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diff --git a/34238-h/34238-h.htm b/34238-h/34238-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d91b067 --- /dev/null +++ b/34238-h/34238-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,25144 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rural Rides, by William Cobbett. + </title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + body {margin-left: 12%; margin-right: 12%;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right; font-style: normal;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .line {border-bottom: solid black 1px;} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .poem {margin-left:15%;} + .note {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + .right {text-align: right;} + .center {text-align: center;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcaplc {text-transform: lowercase; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + p.dropcap:first-letter{float: left; padding-right: 3px; font-size: 250%; line-height: 83%; width:auto;} + .caps {text-transform:uppercase;} + + a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#6633cc; text-decoration:none} + + .spacer {padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} + + ins.correction {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin solid gray;} + + .adverts {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + .hang {margin-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rural Rides, by William Cobbett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Rural Rides + +Author: William Cobbett + +Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34238] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RURAL RIDES *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus001.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus002.jpg" alt="RURAL RIDES by William Cobbett T. Nelson & Sons" /></div> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<table width="60%" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="15" summary="table"> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from London, through Newbury, to Burghclere, Hurstbourn Tarrant, Marlborough, and Cirencester, to Gloucester</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Gloucester, to Bollitree in Herefordshire, Ross, Hereford, Abingdon, Oxford, Cheltenham, Burghclere, Whitchurch, Uphurstbourn, and thence to Kensington</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Kensington to Dartford, Rochester, Chatham, and Faversham</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Norfolk and Suffolk Journal</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Kensington to Battle, through Bromley, Sevenoaks, and Tunbridge</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride through Croydon, Godstone, East Grinstead, and Uckfield, to Lewes, and Brighton; returning by Cuckfield, Worth, and Red-hill</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from London, through Ware and Royston, to Huntingdon</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Kensington to St. Albans, through Edgware, Stanmore, and Watford, returning by Redbourn, Hempstead, and Chesham</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span>Rural Ride from Kensington to Uphusband; including a Rustic Harangue at Winchester, at a Dinner with the Farmers</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride through Hampshire, Berkshire, Surrey, and Sussex</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Kensington to Worth, in Sussex</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from the (London) Wen across Surrey, across the West of Sussex, and into the South-East of Hampshire</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride through the South-East of Hampshire, back through the South-West of Surrey, along the Weald of Surrey, and then over the Surrey Hills down to the Wen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride through the North-East part of Sussex, and all across Kent, from the Weald of Sussex, to Dover</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Dover, through the Isle of Thanet, by Canterbury and Faversham, across to Maidstone, up to Tonbridge, through the Weald of Kent and over the Hills by Westerham and Hays, to the Wen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Kensington, across Surrey, and along that county</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Chilworth, in Surrey, to Winchester</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Winchester to Burghclere</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Burghclere to Petersfield</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Petersfield to Kensington</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride down the Valley of the Avon in Wiltshire</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Salisbury to Warminster, from Warminster to Frome, from Frome to Devizes, and from Devizes to Highworth</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_348">348</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Highworth to Cricklade, and thence to Malmsbury</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span>Rural Ride from Malmsbury, in Wiltshire, through Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, and Worcestershire</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_386">386</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Ryall, in Worcestershire, to Burghclere, in Hampshire</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Burghclere, to Lyndhurst, in the New Forest</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_426">426</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Lyndhurst to Beaulieu Abbey; thence to Southampton, and Weston; thence to Botley, Allington, West End, near Hambledon; and thence to Petersfield, Thursley, and Godalming</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_449">449</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride from Weston, near Southampton, to Kensington</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_462">462</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rural Ride to Tring, in Hertfordshire</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_485">485</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Northern Tour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_494">494</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Eastern Tour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_498">498</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Midland Tour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_535">535</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tour in the West</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_550">550</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Progress in the North</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_551">551</a></td></tr></table> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h2>RURAL RIDES, <span class="smcaplc">ETC.</span></h2> + +<h3>JOURNAL: FROM LONDON, THROUGH NEWBURY, TO BERGHCLERE, HURSTBOURN +TARRANT, MARLBOROUGH, AND CIRENCESTER, TO GLOUCESTER.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Berghclere, near Newbury, Hants,<br />October 30, 1821, Tuesday (Evening).</i></p> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Fog</span> that you might cut with a knife all the way from London to Newbury. +This fog does not <i>wet</i> things. It is rather a <i>smoke</i> than a fog. There +are no two things in <i>this world</i>; and, were it not for fear of +<i>Six-Acts</i> (the “wholesome restraint” of which I continually feel) I +might be tempted to carry my comparison further; but, certainly, there +are no two things in <i>this world</i> so dissimilar as an English and a Long +Island autumn.—These fogs are certainly the <i>white clouds</i> that we +sometimes see aloft. I was once upon the Hampshire Hills, going from +Soberton Down to Petersfield, where the hills are high and steep, not +very wide at their base, very irregular in their form and direction, and +have, of course, deep and narrow valleys winding about between them. In +one place that I had to pass, two of these valleys were cut asunder by a +piece of hill that went across them and formed a sort of bridge from one +long hill to another. A little before I came to this sort of bridge I +saw a smoke flying across it; and, not knowing the way by experience, I +said to the person who was with me, “there is the turnpike road (which +we were expecting to come to); for, don’t you see the dust?” The day was +very fine, the sun clear, and the weather dry. When we came to the pass, +however, we found ourselves, not in dust, but in a fog. After getting +over the pass, we looked down into the valleys, and there we saw the fog +going along the valleys to the North, in detached parcels, that is to +say, in clouds, and, as they came to the pass, they rose, went over it, +then descended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> again, keeping constantly along just above the ground. +And, to-day, the fog came by <i>spells</i>. It was sometimes thinner than at +other times; and these changes were very sudden too. So that I am +convinced that these fogs are <i>dry clouds</i>, such as those that I saw on +the Hampshire Downs. Those did not <i>wet</i> me at all; nor do these fogs +wet any thing; and I do not think that they are by any means injurious +to health.—It is the fogs that rise out of swamps, and other places, +full of putrid vegetable matter, that kill people. These are the fogs +that sweep off the new settlers in the American Woods. I remember a +valley in Pennsylvania, in a part called <i>Wysihicken</i>. In looking from a +hill, over this valley, early in the morning, in November, it presented +one of the most beautiful sights that my eyes ever beheld. It was a sea +bordered with beautifully formed trees of endless variety of colours. As +the hills formed the outsides of the sea, some of the trees showed only +their tops; and, every now-and-then, a lofty tree growing in the sea +itself raised its head above the apparent waters. Except the setting-sun +sending his horizontal beams through all the variety of reds and yellows +of the branches of the trees in Long Island, and giving, at the same +time, a sort of silver cast to the verdure beneath them, I have never +seen anything so beautiful as the foggy valley of the Wysihicken. But I +was told that it was very fatal to the people; and that whole families +were frequently swept off by the “<i>fall-fever</i>.”—Thus the <i>smell</i> has a +great deal to do with health. There can be no doubt that Butchers and +their wives fatten upon the smell of meat. And this accounts for the +precept of my grandmother, who used to tell me to <i>bite my bread and +smell to my cheese</i>; talk, much more wise than that of certain <i>old +grannies</i>, who go about England crying up “the <i>blessings</i>” of +paper-money, taxes, and national debts.</p> + +<p>The fog prevented me from seeing much of the fields as I came along +yesterday; but the fields of Swedish Turnips that I did see were good; +pretty good; though not clean and neat like those in Norfolk. The +farmers here, as every where else, complain most bitterly; but they hang +on, like sailors to the masts or hull of a wreck. They read, you will +observe, nothing but the country newspapers; they, of course, know +nothing of the <i>cause</i> of their “bad times.” They hope “the times will +mend.” If they quit business, they must sell their stock; and, having +thought this worth so much money, they cannot endure the thought of +selling for a third of the sum. Thus they hang on; thus the landlords +will first turn the farmers’ pockets inside out; and then their turn +comes. To finish the present farmers will not take long. There has been +stout fight going on all this morning (it is now 9 o’clock) between the +<i>sun</i> and the <i>fog</i>. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> have backed the former, and he appears to have +gained the day; for he is now shining most delightfully.</p> + +<p>Came through a place called “a park” belonging to a Mr. <span class="smcap">Montague</span>, who is +now <i>abroad</i>; for the purpose, I suppose, of generously assisting to +compensate the French people for what they lost by the entrance of the +Holy Alliance Armies into their country. Of all the ridiculous things I +ever saw in my life this place is the most ridiculous. The house looks +like a sort of church, in somewhat of a gothic style of building, with +<i>crosses</i> on the tops of different parts of the pile. There is a sort of +swamp, at the foot of a wood, at no great distance from the front of the +house. This swamp has been dug out in the middle to show the water to +the eye; so that there is a sort of river, or chain of diminutive lakes, +going down a little valley, about 500 yards long, the water proceeding +from the <i>soak</i> of the higher ground on both sides. By the sides of +these lakes there are little flower gardens, laid out in the Dutch +manner; that is to say, cut out into all manner of superficial +geometrical figures. Here is the <i>grand en petit</i>, or mock magnificence, +more complete than I ever beheld it before. Here is a <i>fountain</i>, the +basin of which is not four feet over, and the water spout not exceeding +the pour from a tea-pot. Here is a <i>bridge</i> over a <i>river</i> of which a +child four years old would clear the banks at a jump. I could not have +trusted myself on the bridge for fear of the consequences to Mr. +<span class="smcap">Montague</span>; but I very conveniently stepped over the river, in imitation +of the <i>Colossus</i>. In another part there was a <i>lion’s mouth</i> spouting +out water into the lake, which was so much like the vomiting of a dog, +that I could almost have pitied the poor Lion. In short, such fooleries +I never before beheld; but what I disliked most was the apparent impiety +of a part of these works of refined taste. I did not like the crosses on +the dwelling house; but, in one of the gravel walks, we had to pass +under a gothic arch, with a cross on the top of it, and in the point of +the arch a niche for a saint or a virgin, the figure being gone through +the lapse of centuries, and the pedestal only remaining as we so +frequently see on the outsides of Cathedrals and of old Churches and +Chapels. But, the good of it was, this gothic arch, disfigured by the +hand of old Father Time, was composed of Scotch fir wood, as rotten as a +pear; nailed together in such a way as to make the thing appear, from a +distance, like the remnant of a ruin! I wonder how long this sickly, +this childish, taste is to remain. I do not know who this gentleman is. +I suppose he is some honest person from the ’Change or its +neighbourhood; and that these <i>gothic arches</i> are to denote the +<i>antiquity of his origin</i>! Not a bad plan; and, indeed, it is one that I +once took the liberty to recommend to those Fundlords<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> who retire to be +country-’squires. But I never recommended the <i>Crucifixes</i>! To be sure, +the Roman Catholic religion may, in England, be considered as a +<i>gentleman’s religion</i>, it being the most <i>ancient</i> in the country; and +therefore it is fortunate for a Fundlord when he happens (if he ever do +happen) to be of that faith.</p> + +<p>This gentleman may, for anything that I know, be a <i>Catholic</i>; in which +case I applaud his piety and pity his taste. At the end of this scene of +mock grandeur and mock antiquity I found something more rational; +namely, some hare hounds, and, in half an hour after, we found, and I +had the first hare-hunt that I had had since I wore a smock-frock! We +killed our hare after good sport, and got to Berghclere in the evening +to a nice farm-house in a dell, sheltered from every wind, and with +plenty of good living; though with no gothic arches made of Scotch fir!</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>October 31. Wednesday.</i></p> + +<p>A fine day. Too many hares here; but our hunting was not bad; or, at +least, it was a great treat to me, who used, when a boy, to have my legs +and thighs so often filled with thorns in running after the hounds, +anticipating, with pretty great certainty, a “<i>waling</i>” of the back at +night. We had greyhounds a part of the day; but the ground on the hills +is so <i>flinty</i>, that I do not like the country for coursing. The dogs’ +legs are presently cut to pieces.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Nov. 1. Thursday.</i></p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Budd</span> has Swedish Turnips, Mangel-Wurzel, and Cabbages of various +kinds, transplanted. All are very fine indeed. It is impossible to make +more satisfactory experiments in <i>transplanting</i> than have been made +here. But this is not a proper place to give a particular account of +them. I went to see the best cultivated parts round Newbury; but I saw +no spot with half the “feed” that I see here, upon a spot of similar +extent.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Hurstbourn Tarrant, Hants,<br />Nov. 2. Friday.</i></p> + +<p>This place is commonly called <i>Uphusband</i>, which is, I think, as decent +a corruption of names as one would wish to meet with. However, Uphusband +the people will have it, and Uphusband it shall be for me. I came from +Berghclere this morning, and through the park of <span class="smcap">Lord Caernarvon</span>, at +Highclere. It is a fine season to look at woods. The oaks are still +covered, the beeches in their best dress, the elms yet pretty green, and +the beautiful ashes only beginning to turn off. This is, according to +my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> fancy, the prettiest park that I have ever seen. A great variety of +hill and dell. A good deal of water, and this, in one part, only wants +the <i>colours</i> of American trees to make it look like a “creek;” for the +water runs along at the foot of a steepish hill, thickly covered with +trees, and the branches of the lowermost trees hang down into the water +and hide the bank completely. I like this place better than <i>Fonthill</i>, +<i>Blenheim</i>, <i>Stowe</i>, or any other gentleman’s grounds that I have seen. +The <i>house</i> I did not care about, though it appears to be large enough +to hold half a village. The trees are very good, and the woods would be +handsomer if the larches and firs were <i>burnt</i>, for which only they are +fit. The great beauty of the place is the <i>lofty downs</i>, as steep, in +some places, as the roof of a house, which form a sort of boundary, in +the form of a part of a crescent, to about a third part of the park, and +then slope off and get more distant, for about half another third part. +A part of these downs is covered with trees, chiefly beech, the colour +of which, at this season, forms a most beautiful contrast with that of +the down itself, which is so green and so smooth! From the vale in the +park, along which we rode, we looked apparently almost perpendicularly +up at the downs, where the trees have extended themselves by seed more +in some places than others, and thereby formed numerous salient parts of +various forms, and, of course, as many and as variously formed glades. +These, which are always so beautiful in forests and parks, are +peculiarly beautiful in this lofty situation and with verdure so smooth +as that of these chalky downs. Our horses beat up a score or two of +hares as we crossed the park; and, though we met with no <i>gothic arches</i> +made of Scotch fir, we saw something a great deal better; namely, about +forty cows, the most beautiful that I ever saw, as to colour at least. +They appear to be of the Galway-breed. They are called, in this country, +<i>Lord Caernarvon’s breed</i>. They have no horns, and their colour is a +ground of white with black or red spots, these spots being from the size +of a plate to that of a crown piece; and some of them have no small +spots. These cattle were lying down together in the space of about an +acre of ground: they were in excellent condition, and so fine a sight of +the kind I never saw. Upon leaving the park, and coming over the hills +to this pretty vale of Uphusband, I could not help calculating how long +it might be before some Jew would begin to fix his eye upon Highclere, +and talk of putting out the present owner, who, though a <i>Whig</i>, is one +of the best of that set of politicians, and who acted a manly part in +the case of our deeply injured and deeply lamented Queen. Perhaps his +Lordship thinks that there is no fear of the Jews as to <i>him</i>. But does +he think that his tenants can sell fat hogs at 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a score, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +pay him more than a third of the rent that they have paid him while the +debt was contracting? I know that such a man does not lose his estate at +once; but, without rents, what is the estate? And that the Jews will +receive the far greater part of his rents is certain, unless the +interest of the Debt be reduced. <span class="smcap">Lord Caernarvon</span> told a man, in 1820, +that <i>he did not like my politics</i>. But what did he mean by my +<i>politics</i>? I have no politics but such as he <i>ought</i> to like. I want to +do away with that infernal <i>system</i>, which, after having beggared and +pauperized the Labouring Classes, has now, according to the Report, made +by the Ministers themselves to the House of Commons, plunged the owners +of the land themselves into a state of distress, for which those +Ministers themselves can hold out no remedy! To be sure, I labour most +assiduously to destroy a system of distress and misery; but is that any +reason why a <i>Lord</i> should dislike my politics? However, dislike or like +them, to them, to those very politics, the Lords themselves <i>must come +at last</i>. And that I should exult in this thought, and take little pains +to disguise my exultation, can surprise nobody who reflects on what has +passed within these last twelve years. If the Landlords be well; if +things be going right with them; if they have fair prospects of happy +days; then what need they care about me and <i>my politics</i>; but, if they +find themselves in “<i>distress</i>,” and do not know how to get out of it; +and, if they have been plunged into this distress by those who “dislike +my politics;” is there not <i>some reason</i> for men of sense to hesitate a +little before they <i>condemn</i> those politics? If no great change be +wanted; if things could remain even; then men may, with some show of +reason, say that I am disturbing that which ought to be let alone. But +if things cannot remain as they are; if there must be a <i>great change</i>; +is it not folly, and, indeed, is it not a species of idiotic +perverseness, for men to set their faces, without rhyme or reason, +against what is said as to this change by <i>me</i>, who have, for nearly +twenty years, been warning the country of its danger, and foretelling +that which has now come to pass and is coming to pass? However, I make +no complaint on this score. People disliking my politics “neither picks +my pocket, nor breaks my leg,” as <span class="smcap">Jefferson</span> said by the writings of the +Atheists. If they be pleased in disliking my politics, I am pleased in +liking them; and so we are both enjoying ourselves. If the country wants +no assistance from me, I am quite sure that I want none from it.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Nov. 3. Saturday.</i></p> + +<p>Fat hogs have lately sold, in this village, at 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a score (but +would hardly bring that now), that is to say, at 4½<i>d.</i> a pound.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> The +hog is weighed whole, when killed and dressed. The head and feet are +included; but so is the lard. Hogs fatted on peas or barley-meal may be +called the very best meat that England contains. At Salisbury (only +about 20 miles off) fat hogs sell for 5<i>s.</i> to 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a score. But, +then, observe, these are <i>dairy hogs</i>, which are not nearly so good in +quality as the corn-fed hogs. But I shall probably hear more about these +prices as I get further towards the West. Some wheat has been sold at +Newbury-market for 6<i>l.</i> a load (40 bushels); that is, at 3<i>s.</i> a +bushel. A considerable part of the crop is wholly unfit for bread flour, +and is not equal in value to good barley. In not a few instances the +wheat has been carried into the gate, or yard, and thrown down to be +made dung of. So that, if we were to take the average, it would not +exceed, I am convinced, 5<i>s.</i> a bushel in this part of the country; and +the average of all England would not, perhaps, exceed 4<i>s.</i> or 3<i>s.</i> +6<i>d.</i> a bushel. However, <span class="smcap">Lord Liverpool</span> has got a <i>bad harvest</i> at last! +That <i>remedy</i> has been applied! Somebody sent me some time ago that +stupid newspaper, called the <i>Morning Herald</i>, in which its readers were +reminded of my “<i>false prophecies</i>,” I having (as this paper said) +foretold that wheat would be at <i>two shillings a bushel before +Christmas</i>. These gentlemen of the “<i>respectable</i> part of the press” do +not mind lying a little upon a pinch. [See Walter’s “Times” of Tuesday +last, for the following: “<i>Mr. Cobbett has thrown open the front of his +house at Kensington, where he proposes to sell meat at a reduced +price</i>.”] What I said was this: that, if the crop were good and the +harvest fine, and gold continued to be paid at the Bank, we should see +wheat at four, not two, shillings a bushel before Christmas. Now, the +crop was, in many parts, very much blighted, and the harvest was very +bad indeed; and yet the average of England, including that which is +destroyed, or not brought to market at all, will not exceed 4<i>s.</i> a +bushel. A farmer told me, the other day, that he got <i>so little</i> offered +for some of his wheat, that he was resolved not to take any more of it +to market; but to give it to hogs. Therefore, in speaking of the price +of wheat, you are to take in the unsold as well as the sold; that which +fetches nothing as well as that which is sold at high price.—I see, in +the Irish papers, which have overtaken me on my way, that the system is +working the Agriculturasses in “the sister-kingdom” too! The following +paragraph will show that the <i>remedy</i> of a <i>bad harvest</i> has not done +our dear sister much good. “A very numerous meeting of the Kildare +Farming Society met at Naas on the 24th inst., the Duke of Leinster in +the Chair; Robert de la Touche, Esq., M.P., Vice-President. Nothing can +more strongly prove the BADNESS OF THE TIMES, and very <i>unfortunate +state<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> of the country</i>, than the necessity in which the Society finds +itself of <i>discontinuing its premiums, from its present want of funds</i>. +The best members of the farming classes have got so much in arrear in +their subscriptions that they have declined to appear or to dine with +their neighbours, and general depression damps the spirit of the most +industrious and <i>hitherto prosperous</i> cultivators.” You are mistaken, +Pat; it is not the <i>times</i> any more than it is the <i>stars</i>. Bobadil, you +know, imputed his beating to the <i>planets</i>: “planet-stricken, by the +foot of Pharaoh!”—“No, Captain,” says Welldon, “indeed it was a +<i>stick</i>.” It is not the <i>times</i>, dear Patrick: it is <i>the government</i>, +who, having first contracted a great debt in depreciated money, are now +compelling you to pay the interest at the rate of three for one. Whether +this be <i>right</i>, or <i>wrong</i>, the Agriculturasses best know: it is much +more their affair than it is mine; but, be you well assured, that they +are only at the beginning of their sorrows. Ah! Patrick, whoever shall +live only a few years will see a <i>grand change</i> in your state! Something +a <i>little more rational</i> than “Catholic Emancipation” will take place, +or I am the most deceived of all mankind. This <i>Debt</i> is your best, and, +indeed, your <i>only friend</i>. It must, at last, give the THING a <i>shake</i>, +such as it never had before.—The accounts which my country newspapers +give of the failure of farmers are perfectly dismal. In many, many +instances they have put an end to their existence, as the poor deluded +creatures did who had been ruined by the South Sea Bubble! I cannot help +feeling for these people, for whom my birth, education, taste, and +habits give me so strong a partiality. Who can help feeling for their +wives and children, hurled down headlong from affluence to misery in the +space of a few months! Become all of a sudden the mockery of those whom +they compelled, perhaps, to cringe before them! If the Labourers exult, +one cannot say that it is unnatural. If <i>Reason</i> have her fair sway, I +am exempted from all pain upon this occasion. I have done my best to +prevent these calamities. Those farmers who have attended to me are safe +while the storm rages. My endeavours to stop the evil in time cost me +the earnings of twenty long years! I did not sink, no, nor <i>bend</i>, +beneath the heavy and reiterated blows of the accursed system, which I +have dealt back blow for blow; and, blessed be God, I now see it <i>reel</i>! +It is staggering about like a sheep with water in the head: turning its +pate up on one side: seeming to listen, but has no hearing: seeming to +look, but has no sight: one day it capers and dances: the next it mopes +and seems ready to die.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Nov. 4. Sunday.</i></p> + +<p>This, to my fancy, is a very nice country. It is continual hill and +dell. Now and then a <i>chain</i> of hills higher than the rest, and these +are downs, or woods. To stand upon any of the hills and look around you, +you almost think you see the ups and downs of sea in a <i>heavy swell</i> (as +the sailors call it) after what they call a gale of wind. The +undulations are endless, and the great variety in the height, breadth, +length, and form of the little hills, has a very delightful effect.—The +soil, which, to look <i>on</i> it, appears to be more than half flint stones, +is very good in quality, and, in general, better on the tops of the +lesser hills than in the valleys. It has great tenacity; does not <i>wash +away</i> like sand, or light loam. It is a stiff, tenacious loam, mixed +with flint stones. Bears Saint-foin well, and all sorts of grass, which +make the fields on the hills as green as meadows, even at this season; +and the grass does not burn up in summer.—In a country so full of hills +one would expect endless runs of water and springs. There are none: +absolutely none. No water-furrow is ever made in the land. No ditches +round the fields. And, even in the <i>deep valleys</i>, such as that in which +this village is situated, though it winds round for ten or fifteen +miles, there is no run of water even now. There is the <i>bed</i> of a brook, +which will run before spring, and it continues running with more or less +water for about half the year, though, some years, it never runs at all. +It rained all Friday night; pretty nearly all day yesterday; and to-day +the ground is as dry as a bone, except just along the street of the +village, which has been kept in a sort of stabble by the flocks of sheep +passing along to and from Appleshaw fair. In the deep and long and +narrow valleys, such as this, there are meadows with very fine herbage +and very productive. The grass very fine and excellent in its quality. +It is very curious that the soil is much <i>shallower</i> in the vales than +on the hills. In the vales it is a sort of hazle-mould on a bed of +something approaching to gravel; but on the hills it is stiff loam, with +apparently half flints, on a bed of something like clay first (reddish, +not yellow), and then comes the chalk, which they often take up by +digging a sort of wells; and then they spread it on the surface, as they +do the clay in some countries, where they sometimes fetch it many miles +and at an immense expense. It was very common, near Botley, to chalk +land at an expense of sixteen pounds an acre.——The land here is +excellent in quality generally, unless you get upon the highest chains +of hills. They have frequently 40 bushels of wheat to the acre. Their +barley is very fine; and their Saint-foin abundant. The turnips are, in +general, very good at this time; and the land<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> appears as capable of +carrying fine crops of them as any land that I have seen. A fine country +for sheep: always dry: they never injure the land when feeding off +turnips in wet weather; and they can lie down on the dry; for the ground +is, in fact, never wet except while the rain is actually falling. +Sometimes, in spring-thaws and thunder-showers, the rain runs down the +hills in torrents; but is gone directly. The flocks of sheep, some in +fold and some at large, feeding on the sides of the hills, give great +additional beauty to the scenery.—The woods, which consist chiefly of +oak thinly intermixed with ash, and well set with underwood of ash and +hazle, but mostly the latter, are very beautiful. They sometimes stretch +along the top and sides of hills for miles together; and as their edges, +or outsides, joining the fields and the downs, go winding and twisting +about, and as the fields and downs are naked of trees, the sight +altogether is very pretty.—The trees in the deep and long valleys, +especially the Elm and the Ash, are very fine and very lofty; and from +distance to distance, the Rooks have made them their habitation. This +sort of country, which, in irregular shape, is of great extent, has many +and great advantages. Dry under foot. Good roads, winter as well as +summer, and little, very little, expense. Saint-foin flourishes. Fences +cost little. Wood, hurdles, and hedging-stuff cheap. No shade in wet +harvests. The water in the wells excellent. Good sporting country, +except for coursing, and too many flints for that.—What becomes of all +the <i>water</i>? There is a spring in one of the cross valleys that runs +into this, having a basin about thirty feet over, and about eight feet +deep, which, they say, sends up water once in about 30 or 40 years; and +boils up so as to make a large current of water.—Not far from <span class="smcap">Uphusband</span> +the <i>Wansdike</i> (I think it is called) crosses the country. <span class="smcap">Sir Richard +Colt Hoare</span> has written a great deal about this ancient boundary, which +is, indeed, something very curious. In the ploughed fields the traces of +it are quite gone; but they remain in the <i>woods</i> as well as on the +downs.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Nov. 5. Monday.</i></p> + +<p>A <i>white frost</i> this morning. The hills round about beautiful at +sun-rise, the rooks making that noise which they always make in winter +mornings. The Starlings are come in large flocks; and, which is deemed a +sign of a hard winter, the Fieldfares are come at an early season. The +haws are very abundant; which, they say, is another sign of a hard +winter. The wheat is high enough here, in some fields, “to hide a hare,” +which is, indeed, not saying much for it, as a hare knows how to hide +herself upon the bare ground. But it is, in some fields, four<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> inches +high, and is green and gay, the colour being finer than that of any +grass.—The fuel here is wood. Little coal is brought from Andover. A +load of fagots does not cost above 10<i>s.</i> So that, in this respect, the +labourers are pretty well off. The wages here and in Berkshire, about +8<i>s.</i> a week; but the farmers talk of lowering them.—The poor-rates +heavy, and heavy they must be, till taxes and rents come down +greatly.—Saturday, and to-day Appleshaw sheep-fair. The sheep, which +had taken a rise at Weyhill fair, have fallen again even below the +Norfolk and Sussex mark. Some Southdown Lambs were sold at Appleshaw so +low as 8<i>s.</i> and some even lower. Some Dorsetshire Ewes brought no more +than a pound; and, perhaps, the average did not exceed 28<i>s.</i> I have +seen a farmer here who can get (or could a few days ago) 28<i>s.</i> round +for a lot of fat Southdown Wethers, which cost him just that money, when +they were lambs, <i>two years ago</i>! It is impossible that they can have +cost him less than 24<i>s.</i> each during the two years, having to be fed on +turnips or hay in winter, and to be fatted on good grass. Here (upon one +hundred sheep) is a loss of 120<i>l.</i> and 14<i>l.</i> in addition at five per +cent. interest on the sum expended in the purchase; even suppose not a +sheep has been lost by death or otherwise.—I mentioned before, I +believe, that fat hogs are sold at Salisbury at from 5<i>s.</i> to 4<i>s.</i> +6<i>d.</i> the <i>score</i> pounds, dead weight.—Cheese has come down in the same +proportion. A correspondent informs me that one hundred and fifty Welsh +Sheep were, on the 18th of October, offered for 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d</i>, a head, and +that they went away unsold! The skin was worth a shilling of the money! +The following I take from the <i>Tyne Mercury</i> of the 30th of October. +“Last week, at Northawton fair, Mr. Thomas Cooper, of Bow, purchased +three milch cows and forty sheep, for 18<i>l.</i> 16<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>!” The skins, +four years ago, would have sold for more than the money. The <i>Hampshire +Journal</i> says that, on 1 November (Thursday) at Newbury Market, wheat +sold from 88<i>s.</i> to 24<i>s.</i> the Quarter. This would make an average of +56<i>s.</i> But very little indeed was sold at 88<i>s.</i>, only the prime of the +old wheat. The best of the new for about 48<i>s.</i>, and then, if we take +into view the great proportion that cannot go to market at all, we shall +not find the average, even in this rather dear part of England, to +exceed 32<i>s.</i>, or 4<i>s.</i> a bushel. And if we take all England through, it +does not come up to that, nor anything like it. A farmer very sensibly +observed to me yesterday that “if we had had such a crop and such a +harvest a few years ago, good wheat would have been 50<i>l.</i> a load;” that +is to say, 25<i>s.</i> a bushel! Nothing can be truer than this. And nothing +can be clearer than that the present race of farmers, generally +speaking, must be swept away by bankruptcy, if they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> do not, in time, +make their bow, and retire. There are two descriptions of farmers, very +distinct as to the effects which this change must naturally have on +them. The word <i>farmer</i> comes from the French, <i>fermier</i>, and signifies +<i>renter</i>. Those only who rent, therefore, are, properly speaking, +<i>farmers</i>. Those who till their own land are <i>yeomen</i>; and when I was a +boy it was the common practice to call the former <i>farmers</i> and the +latter <i>yeoman-farmers</i>. These yeomen have, for the greater part, been +swallowed up by the paper-system which has drawn such masses of money +together. They have, by degrees, been <i>bought out</i>. Still there are some +few left; and these, if not in debt, will stand their ground. But all +the present race of mere renters must give way, in one manner or +another. They must break, or drop their style greatly; even in the +latter case, their rent must, very shortly, be diminished more than +two-thirds. Then comes the <i>Landlord’s turn</i>; and the sooner the +better.—In the <i>Maidstone Gazette</i> I find the following: “Prime beef +was sold in Salisbury market, on Tuesday last, at 4<i>d.</i> per lb., and +good joints of mutton at 3½<i>d.</i>; butter 11<i>d.</i> and 12<i>d.</i> per lb.—In +the West of Cornwall, during the summer, pork has often been sold at +2½<i>d.</i> per lb.”—This is very true; and what can be better? How can +Peel’s Bill work in a more delightful manner? What nice “<i>general +working of events</i>!” The country rag-merchants have now very little to +do. They have <i>no discounts</i>. What they have out they <i>owe</i>: it is so +much <i>debt</i>: and, of course, they become poorer and poorer, because they +must, like a mortgager, have more and more to pay as prices fall. This +is very good; for it will make them disgorge a part, at least, of what +they have swallowed, during the years of high prices and depreciation. +They are worked in this sort of way: the Tax-Collectors, the +Excise-fellows, for instance, hold their sittings every six weeks, in +certain towns about the country. They will receive the country rags, if +the rag man can find, and will give, security for the due payment of his +rags, when they arrive in London. For want of such security, or of some +formality of the kind, there was a great bustle in a town in this county +not many days ago. The Excise-fellow demanded sovereigns, or Bank of +England notes. Precisely how the matter was finally settled I know not; +but the reader will see that the Exciseman was only taking a proper +precaution; for if the rags were not paid in London, the loss was his.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Marlborough,<br />Tuesday noon, Nov. 6.</i></p> + +<p>I left Uphusband this morning at 9, and came across to this place (20 +miles) in a post-chaise. Came up the valley of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>Uphusband, which ends at +about 6 miles from the village, and puts one out upon the Wiltshire +Downs, which stretch away towards the West and South-west, towards +Devizes and towards Salisbury. After about half a mile of down we came +down into a level country; the flints cease, and the chalk comes nearer +the top of the ground. The labourers along here seem very poor indeed. +Farmhouses with twenty ricks round each, besides those standing in the +fields; pieces of wheat 50, 60, or 100 acres in a piece; but a group of +women labourers, who were attending the measurers to measure their +reaping work, presented such an assemblage of rags as I never before saw +even amongst the hoppers at Farnham, many of whom are common beggars. I +never before saw <i>country</i> people, and reapers too, observe, so +miserable in appearance as these. There were some very pretty girls, but +ragged as colts and as pale as ashes. The day was cold too, and frost +hardly off the ground; and their blue arms and lips would have made any +heart ache but that of a seat-seller or a loan-jobber. A little after +passing by these poor things, whom I left, cursing, as I went, those who +had brought them to this state, I came to a group of shabby houses upon +a hill. While the boy was watering his horses, I asked the ostler the +<i>name</i> of the place; and, as the old women say, “you might have knocked +me down with a feather,” when he said, “<i>Great Bedwin</i>.” The whole of +the houses are not intrinsically worth a thousand pounds. There stood a +thing out in the middle of the place, about 25 feet long and 15 wide, +being a room stuck up on unhewed stone pillars about 10 feet high. It +was the Town Hall, where the ceremony of choosing the <i>two Members</i> is +performed. “This place sends Members to Parliament, don’t it?” said I to +the ostler. “Yes, Sir.” “Who are Members <i>now</i>?” “I <i>don’t know</i>, +indeed, Sir.”—I have not read the <i>Henriade</i> of Voltaire for these 30 +years; but in ruminating upon the ostler’s answer, and in thinking how +the world, yes, <i>the whole world</i>, has been deceived as to this matter, +two lines of that poem came across my memory:</p> + +<p class="poem">Représentans du peuple, les Grands et le Roi:<br /> +Spectacle magnifique! Source sacrée des lois!<small><a name="f1.1" id="f1.1" href="#f1">[1]</a></small></p> + +<p>The Frenchman, for want of understanding the THING as well as I do, left +the eulogium incomplete. I therefore here add four lines, which I +request those who publish future editions of the Henriade to insert in +continuation of the above eulogium of Voltaire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<p class="poem">Représentans du peuple, que celui-ci ignore,<br /> +Sont fait à miracle pour garder son Or!<br /> +Peuple trop heureux, que le bonheur inonde!<br /> +L’envie de vos voisins, admiré du monde!<small><a name="f2.1" id="f2.1" href="#f2">[2]</a></small></p> + +<p>The first line was suggested by the ostler; the last by the words which +we so very often hear from the bar, the bench, the <i>seats</i>, the pulpit, +and the throne. Doubtless my poetry is not equal to that of Voltaire; +but my rhyme is as good as his, and my <i>reason</i> is a great deal +better.—In quitting this villanous place we see the extensive and +uncommonly ugly park and domain of <span class="smcap">Lord Aylesbury</span>, who seems to have +tacked park on to park, like so many outworks of a fortified city. I +suppose here are 50 or 100 farms of former days swallowed up. They have +been bought, I dare say, from time to time; and it would be a labour +very well worthy of reward by the public, to trace to its source the +money by which these immense domains, in different parts of the country, +have been formed!—<span class="smcap">Marlborough</span>, which is an ill-looking place enough, is +succeeded, on my road to <span class="smcap">Swindon</span>, by an extensive and very beautiful +down about 4 miles over. Here nature has flung the earth about in a +great variety of shapes. The fine short smooth grass has about 9 inches +of mould under it, and then comes the chalk. The water that runs down +the narrow side-hill valleys is caught, in different parts of the down, +in basins made on purpose, and lined with clay apparently. This is for +watering the sheep in summer; sure sign of a really dry soil; and yet +the grass never <i>parches</i> upon these downs. The chalk holds the +moisture, and the grass is fed by the dews in hot and dry weather.—At +the end of this down the high-country ends. The hill is high and steep, +and from it you look immediately down into a level farming country; a +little further on into the dairy-country, whence the North-Wilts cheese +comes; and, beyond that, into the vale of Berkshire, and even to Oxford, +which lies away to the North-east from this hill.—The land continues +good, flat and rather wet to Swindon, which is a plain country town, +built of the stone which is found at about 6 feet under ground about +here.—I come on now towards Cirencester, thro’ the dairy county of +North Wilts.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Cirencester,<br />Wednesday (Noon), 7 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>I slept at a Dairy-farm house at Hannington, about eight miles from +Swindon, and five on one side of my road. I passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> through that +villanous hole, Cricklade, about two hours ago; and, certainly, a more +rascally looking place I never set my eyes on. I wished to avoid it, but +could get along no other way. All along here the land is a whitish stiff +loam upon a bed of soft stone, which is found at various distances from +the surface, sometimes two feet and sometimes ten. Here and there a +field is fenced with this stone, laid together in walls without mortar +or earth. All the houses and out-houses are made of it, and even covered +with the thinnest of it formed into tiles. The stiles in the fields are +made of large flags of this stone, and the gaps in the hedges are +stopped with them.—There is very little wood all along here. The +labourers seem miserably poor. Their dwellings are little better than +pig-beds, and their looks indicate that their food is not nearly equal +to that of a pig. Their wretched hovels are stuck upon little bits of +ground <i>on the road side</i>, where the space has been wider than the road +demanded. In many places they have not two rods to a hovel. It seems as +if they had been swept off the fields by a hurricane, and had dropped +and found shelter under the banks on the road side! Yesterday morning +was a sharp frost; and this had set the poor creatures to digging up +their little plats of potatoes. In my whole life I never saw human +wretchedness equal to this: no, not even amongst the free negroes in +America, who, on an average, do not work one day out of four. And this +is “<i>prosperity</i>,” is it? These, Oh, Pitt! are the fruits of thy hellish +system! However, this <i>Wiltshire</i> is a horrible county. This is the +county that the <i>Gallon-loaf</i> man belongs to. The land all along here is +good. Fine fields and pastures all around; and yet the cultivators of +those fields so miserable! This is particularly the case on both sides +of Cricklade, and in it too, where everything had the air of the most +deplorable want.—They are sowing wheat all the way from the Wiltshire +downs to Cirencester; though there is some wheat up. Winter-Vetches are +up in some places, and look very well.—The turnips of both kinds are +good all along here.—I met a farmer going with porkers to Highworth +market. They would weigh, he said, four score and a half, and he +expected to get 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a score. I expect he will not. He said they +had been fed on barley-meal; but I did not believe him. I put it to his +honour whether whey and beans had not been their food. He looked surly, +and pushed on.—On this stiff ground they grow a good many beans, and +give them to the pigs with whey; which makes excellent pork for the +<i>Londoners</i>; but which must meet with a pretty hungry stomach to swallow +it in Hampshire. The hogs, all the way that I have come, from +Buckinghamshire, are, without a single exception that I have seen, the +old-fashioned black-spotted hogs. Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> <span class="smcap">Blount</span> at Uphusband has one, +which now weighs about thirty score, and will possibly weigh forty, for +she moves about very easily yet. This is the weight of a good ox; and +yet, what a little thing it is compared to an ox! Between Cricklade and +this place (Cirencester) I met, in separate droves, about two thousand +Welsh Cattle, on their way from Pembrokeshire to the fairs in Sussex. +The greater part of them were heifers in calf. They were purchased in +Wales at from 3<i>l.</i> to 4<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> each! None of them, the drovers told +me, reached 5<i>l.</i> These heifers used to fetch, at home, from 6<i>l.</i> to +8<i>l.</i>, and sometimes more. Many of the things that I saw in these droves +did not fetch, in Wales, 25<i>s.</i> And they go to no <i>rising</i> market! Now, +is there a man in his senses who believes that this THING can go on in +the present way? However, a fine thing, indeed, is this fall of prices! +My “cottager” will easily get his cow, and a young cow too, for less +than the 5<i>l.</i> that I talked of. These Welsh heifers will calve about +May; and they are just the very thing for a cottager.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Gloucester,<br />Thursday (morning), Nov. 8.</i></p> + +<p>In leaving Cirencester, which is a pretty large town, a pretty nice +town, and which the people call <i>Cititer</i>, I came up hill into a +country, apparently formerly a down or common, but now divided into +large fields by stone walls. Anything so ugly I have never seen before. +The stone, which, on the other side of Cirencester, lay a good way under +ground, here lies very near to the surface. The plough is continually +bringing it up, and thus, in general, come the means of making the walls +that serve as fences. Anything quite so cheerless as this I do not +recollect to have seen; for the Bagshot country, and the commons between +Farnham and Haslemere, have <i>heath</i> at any rate; but these stones are +quite abominable. The turnips are not a <i>fiftieth</i> of a crop like those +of Mr. Clarke at Bergh-Apton in Norfolk, or Mr. Pym at Reigate in +Surrey, or of Mr. Brazier at Worth in Sussex. I see thirty acres here +that have less <i>food</i> upon them than I saw the other day upon half an +acre at Mr. Budd’s at Berghclere. <i>Can</i> it be good farming to plough and +sow and hoe thirty acres to get what <i>may</i> be got upon half an acre? Can +that half acre cost more than a tenth part as much as the thirty acres? +But if I were to go to this thirty-acre farmer, and tell him what to do +to the half acre, would he not exclaim with the farmer at Botley: “What! +<i>drow</i> away all that ’ere ground between the <i>lains</i>! Jod’s +blood!”—With the exception of a little dell about eight miles from +Cititer, this miserable country continued to the distance of ten miles, +when, all of a sudden, I looked down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> from the top of a high hill into +<i>the vale of Gloucester</i>! Never was there, surely, such a contrast in +this world! This hill is called <i>Burlip Hill</i>; it is much about a mile +down it, and the descent so steep as to require the wheel of the chaise +to be locked; and even with that precaution, I did not think it over and +above safe to sit in the chaise; so, upon Sir Robert Wilson’s principle +of taking care of <i>Number One</i>, I got out and walked down. From this +hill you see the Morvan Hills in Wales. You look down into a sort of +<i>dish</i> with a flat bottom, the Hills are the sides of the dish, and the +City of Gloucester, which you plainly see, at seven miles distance from +Burlip Hill, appears to be not far from the centre of the dish. All here +is fine; fine farms; fine pastures; all enclosed fields; all divided by +hedges; orchards a plenty; and I had scarcely seen one apple since I +left Berkshire.—<span class="smcap">Gloucester</span> is a fine, clean, beautiful place; and, +which is of a vast deal more importance, the labourers’ dwellings, as I +came along, looked good, and the labourers themselves pretty well as to +dress and healthiness. The girls at work in the fields (always my +standard) are not in rags, with bits of shoes tied on their feet and +rags tied round their ankles, as they had in Wiltshire.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>JOURNAL: FROM GLOUCESTER, TO BOLLITREE IN HEREFORDSHIRE, ROSS, HEREFORD, +ABINGDON, OXFORD, CHELTENHAM, BERGHCLERE, WHITCHURCH, UPHURSTBOURN, AND THENCE TO KENSINGTON.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bollitree Castle, Herefordshire,<br />Friday, 9 Nov. 1821.</i></p> + +<p>I got to this beautiful place (Mr. <span class="smcap">William Palmer’s</span>) yesterday, from +Gloucester. This is in the parish of <i>Weston</i>, two miles on the +Gloucester side of Ross, and, if not the first, nearly the first, parish +in Herefordshire upon leaving Gloucester to go on through Ross to +Hereford.—On quitting Gloucester I crossed the Severne, which had +overflowed its banks and covered the meadows with water.—The soil good +but stiff. The coppices and woods very much like those upon the clays in +the South of Hampshire and in Sussex; but the land better for corn and +grass. The goodness of the land is shown by the apple-trees, and by the +sort of sheep and cattle fed here. The sheep are a cross between the +Ryland and Leicester, and the cattle of the Herefordshire kind. These +would starve in the pastures of any part of Hampshire or Sussex that I +have ever seen.—At about seven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> miles from Gloucester I came to hills, +and the land changed from the whitish soil, which I had hitherto seen, +to a red brown, with layers of flat stone of a reddish cast under it. +Thus it continued to Bollitree. The trees of all kinds are very fine on +the hills as well as in the bottoms.—The spot where I now am is +peculiarly well situated in all respects. The land very rich, the +pastures the finest I ever saw, the trees of all kinds surpassing upon +an average any that I have before seen in England. From the house, you +see, in front and winding round to the left, a lofty hill, called +<i>Penyard Hill</i>, at about a mile and a half distance, covered with oaks +of the finest growth: along at the foot of this wood are fields and +orchards continuing the slope of the hill down for a considerable +distance, and, as the ground lies in a sort of <i>ridges</i> from the wood to +the foot of the slope, the hill-and-dell is very beautiful. One of these +dells with the two adjoining sides of hills is an orchard belonging to +Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span>, and the trees, the ground, and everything belonging to it, +put me in mind of the most beautiful of the spots in the North of Long +Island. Sheltered by a lofty wood; the grass fine beneath the fruit +trees; the soil dry under foot though the rain had scarcely ceased to +fall; no moss on the trees; the leaves of many of them yet green; +everything brought my mind to the beautiful orchards near Bayside, +Little Neck, Mosquito Cove, and Oyster Bay, in Long Island. No wonder +that this is a country of <i>cider</i> and <i>perry</i>; but what a shame it is +that here, at any rate, the owners and cultivators of the soil, not +content with these, should, for mere fashion’s sake, waste their +substance on <i>wine</i> and <i>spirits</i>! They really deserve the contempt of +mankind and the curses of their children.—The woody hill mentioned +before, winds away to the left, and carries the eye on to the <i>Forest of +Dean</i>, from which it is divided by a narrow and very deep valley. Away +to the right of Penyard Hill lies, in the bottom, at two miles distance, +and on the bank of the river Wye, the town of Ross, over which we look +down the vale to Monmouth and see the Welsh hills beyond it. Beneath +Penyard Hill, and on one of the <i>ridges</i> before mentioned, is the parish +church of Weston, with some pretty white cottages near it, peeping +through the orchard and other trees; and coming to the paddock before +the house are some of the largest and loftiest trees in the country, +standing singly here and there, amongst which is the very largest and +loftiest walnut-tree that I believe I ever saw, either in America or in +England. In short, there wants nothing but the autumnal <i>colours</i> of the +American trees to make this the most beautiful spot I ever beheld.—I +was much amused for an hour after daylight this morning in looking at +the <i>clouds</i>, rising at intervals from the dells on the side of Penyard +Hill, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> flying to the top, and then over the Hill. Some of the clouds +went up in a roundish and compact form. Others rose in a sort of string +or stream, the tops of them going over the hill before the bottoms were +clear of the place whence they had arisen. Sometimes the clouds gathered +themselves together along the top of the hill, and seemed to connect the +topmost trees with the sky.——I have been to-day to look at Mr. +<span class="smcap">Palmer’s</span> fine crops of <i>Swedish Turnips</i>, which are, in general, called +“<i>Swedes</i>.” These crops having been raised according to <i>my plan</i>, I +feel, of course, great interest in the matter. The Swedes occupy two +fields: one of thirteen, and one of seventeen acres. The main part of +the seventeen-acre field was <i>drilled</i>, on ridges, four feet apart, a +single row on a ridge, at different times, between 16th April and 29th +May. An acre and a half of this piece was <i>transplanted</i> on four-feet +ridges 30th July. About half an acre across the middle of the field was +sown <i>broad-cast</i> 14th April.—In the thirteen-acre field there is about +half an acre sown <i>broad-cast</i> on the 1st of June; the rest of the field +was <i>transplanted</i>; part in the first week of June, part in the last +week of June, part from the 12th to 18th July, and the rest (about three +acres) from 21st to 23rd July. The drilled Swedes in the seventeen-acre +field, contain full 23 tons to the acre; the transplanted ones in <i>that</i> +field, 15 tons, and the broad-cast not exceeding 10 tons. Those in the +thirteen-acre field which were transplanted before the 21st July, +contain 27 if not 30 tons; and the rest of <i>that</i> field about 17 tons to +the acre. The broad-cast piece here (half an acre) may contain 7 tons. +The shortness of my time will prevent us from ascertaining the weight by +actual weighings; but such is the crop, according to the best of my +judgment, after a very minute survey of it in every part of each +field.—<span class="smcap">Now</span>, here is a little short of 800 tons of food, about a fifth +part of which consists of <i>tops</i>; and, of course, there is about 640 +tons of <i>bulb</i>. As to the <i>value</i> and <i>uses</i> of this prodigious crop I +need say nothing; and as to the time and manner of sowing and raising +the plants for transplanting, the act of transplanting, and the after +cultivation, Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span> has followed the directions contained in my +“<i>Year’s Residence in America</i>;” and, indeed, he is forward to +acknowledge that he had never thought of this mode of culture, which he +has followed now for three years, and which he has found so +advantageous, until he read that work, a work which the <i>Farmer’s +Journal</i> thought proper to treat as a <i>romance</i>.—Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span> has had +some <i>cabbages</i> of the large, drum-head kind. He had about three acres, +in rows at four feet apart, and at little less than three feet apart in +the rows, making <i>ten thousand</i> cabbages on the three acres. He kept +ninety-five wethers and ninety-six ewes (large fatting sheep)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> upon them +for <i>five weeks</i> all but two days, ending in the first week of November. +The sheep, which are now feeding off yellow turnips in an adjoining part +of the same field, come back over the cabbage-ground and <i>scoop out the +stumps</i> almost to the ground in many cases. This ground is going to be +ploughed for wheat immediately. Cabbages are a very fine <i>autumn crop</i>; +but it is the <i>Swedes</i> on which you must rely for the spring, and on +<i>housed</i> or <i>stacked</i> Swedes too; for they will <i>rot</i> in many of our +winters, if left in the ground. I have had them rot myself, and I saw, +in March 1820, hundreds of acres rotten in Warwickshire and +Northamptonshire. Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span> greatly prefers the <i>transplanting</i> to the +drilling. It has numerous advantages over the drilling; greater +regularity of crop, greater certainty, the only <i>sure</i> way of avoiding +the <i>fly</i>, greater crop, admitting of two months later preparation of +land, can come <i>after vetches</i> cut up for horses (as, indeed, a part of +Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer’s</span> transplanted Swedes did), and requiring less labour and +expense. I asserted this in my “<i>Year’s Residence</i>;” and Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span>, who +has been very particular in ascertaining the fact, states positively +that the expense of transplanting is not so great as the hoeing and +setting out of the drilled crops, and not so great as the common hoeings +of broad-cast. This, I think, settles the question. But the advantages +of the wide-row culture by no means confine themselves to the green and +root crop; for Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span> drills his wheat upon the same ridges, without +ploughing, after he has taken off the Swedes. He drills it at <i>eight +inches</i>, and puts in from eight to ten gallons to the acre. His crop of +1820, drilled in this way, averaged 40 bushels to the acre; part drilled +in November, and part so late as February. It was the common Lammas +wheat. His last crop of wheat is not yet ascertained; but it was better +after the Swedes than in any other of his land. His manner of taking off +the crop is excellent. He first cuts off and carries away the <i>tops</i>. +Then he has an implement, drawn by two oxen, walking on each side of the +ridge, with which he cuts off the <i>tap root</i> of the Swedes without +disturbing the land of the ridge. Any child can then pull up the bulb. +Thus the ground, clean as a garden, and in that compact state which the +wheat is well known to like, is ready, at once, for drilling with wheat. +As to the <i>uses</i> to which he applies the crop, tops as well as bulbs, I +must speak of these hereafter, and in a work of a description different +from this. I have been thus particular here, because the <i>Farmer’s +Journal</i> treated my book as a pack of lies. I know that my (for it is +<i>mine</i>) system of cattle-food husbandry will finally be that of <i>all +England</i>, as it already is that of America; but what I am doing here is +merely in self-defence against the slanders, the malignant slanders, of +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> <i>Farmer’s Journal</i>. Where is a <i>Whig lord</i>, who, some years ago, +wrote to a gentleman that “<i>he</i> would have <i>nothing to do</i> with any +<i>reform</i> that <i>Cobbett</i> was engaged in”? But in spite of the brutal +<i>Journal</i>, farmers are not such fools as this lord was: they will not +reject a good crop because they can have it only by acting upon my plan; +and this lord will, I imagine, yet see the day when he will be less +averse from having to do with a reform in which “Cobbett” shall be +engaged.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Old Hall,<br />Saturday night, Nov. 10.</i></p> + +<p>Went to Hereford this morning. It was market-day. My arrival became +known, and, I am sure, I cannot tell how. A sort of <i>buz</i> got about. I +could perceive here, as I always have elsewhere, very ardent friends and +very bitter enemies; but all full of curiosity. One thing could not fail +to please me exceedingly: my friends were <i>gay</i> and my enemies <i>gloomy</i>: +the former smiled, and the latter, in endeavouring to screw their +features into a sneer, could get them no further than the half sour and +half sad: the former seemed in their looks to say, “Here he is,” and the +latter to respond, “Yes, G—— d—— him!”—I went into the +market-place, amongst the farmers, with whom, in general, I was very +much pleased. If I were to live in the county two months, I should be +acquainted with every man of them. The country is very fine all the way +from Ross to Hereford. The soil is always a red loam upon a bed of +stone. The trees are very fine, and certainly winter comes later here +than in Middlesex. Some of the oak trees are still perfectly green, and +many of the ashes as green as in September.—In coming from Hereford to +this place, which is the residence of Mrs. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span> and that of her two +younger sons, Messrs. <span class="smcap">Philip</span> and <span class="smcap">Walter Palmer</span>, who, with their brother, +had accompanied me to Hereford; in coming to this place, which lies at +about two miles distance from the great road, and at about an equal +distance from <span class="smcap">Hereford</span> and from Ross, we met with something, the sight +of which pleased me exceedingly: it was that of a very pretty +pleasant-looking lady (and <i>young</i> too) with two beautiful children, +riding in a little sort of chaise-cart, drawn by <i>an ass</i>, which she was +driving in reins. She appeared to be well known to my friends, who drew +up and spoke to her, calling her Mrs. <i>Lock</i>, or <i>Locky</i> (I hope it was +not <i>Lockart</i>), or some such name. Her husband, who is, I suppose, some +young farmer of the neighbourhood, may well call himself Mr. <i>Lucky</i>; +for to have such a wife, and for such a wife to have the good sense to +put up with an ass-cart, in order to avoid, as much as possible,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +feeding those cormorants who gorge on the taxes, is a blessing that +falls, I am afraid, to the lot of very few rich farmers. Mrs. <i>Lock</i> (if +that be her name) is a real <i>practical radical</i>. Others of us resort to +radical coffee and radical tea; and she has a radical carriage. This is +a very effectual way of assailing the THING, and peculiarly well suited +for the practice of the female sex. But the self-denial ought not to be +imposed on the wife only: the husband ought to set the example: and let +me hope that <i>Mr. Lock</i> does not indulge in the use of wine and spirits +while Mrs. Lock and her children ride in a jackass gig; for if he do, he +wastes, in this way, the means of keeping her a chariot and pair. If +there be to be any expense not absolutely necessary; if there be to be +anything bordering on extravagance, surely it ought to be for the +pleasure of that part of the family who have the least number of objects +of enjoyment; and for a husband to indulge himself in the guzzling of +expensive, unnecessary, and really injurious drink, to the tune, +perhaps, of 50 or 100 pounds a year, while he preaches economy to his +wife, and, with a face as long as my arm, talks of the low price of +corn, and wheedles her out of a curricle into a jack-ass cart, is not +only unjust but <i>unmanly</i>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Old Hall, Sunday night, 11 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>We have ridden to-day, though in the rain for a great part of the time, +over the fine farm of Mr. <span class="smcap">Philip Palmer</span>, at this place, and that of Mr. +<span class="smcap">Walter Palmer</span>, in the adjoining parish of <span class="smcap">Pencoyd</span>. Everything here is +good, arable land, pastures, orchards, coppices, and timber trees, +especially the elms, many scores of which approach nearly to a hundred +feet in height. Mr. <span class="smcap">Philip Palmer</span> has four acres of Swedes on four-feet +ridges, drilled on the 11th and 14th of May. The plants were very much +injured by the <i>fly</i>; so much, that it was a question whether the whole +piece ought not to be ploughed up. However, the gaps in the rows were +filled up by transplanting; and the ground was twice ploughed between +the ridges. The crop here is very fine; and I should think that its +weight could not be less than 17 tons to the acre.—Of Mr. <span class="smcap">Walter +Palmer’s</span> Swedes, five acres were drilled, on ridges nearly four feet +apart, on the 3rd of June; four acres on the 15th of June; and an acre +and a half transplanted (after vetches) on the 15th of August. The +weight of the first is about twenty tons to the acre; that of the second +not much less; and that of the last even, five or six tons. The first +two pieces were mauled to pieces by the <i>fly</i>; but the gaps were filled +up by transplanting, the ground being digged on the tops of the ridges +to receive the plants. So that, perhaps, a third part or more of the +crop is due to the <i>transplanting</i>. As to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> the last piece, that +transplanted on the 15th of August, after vetches, it is clear that +there could have been no crop without transplanting; and, after all, the +crop is by no means a bad one.—It is clear enough to me that this +system will finally prevail all over England. The “loyal,” indeed, may +be afraid to adopt it, lest it should contain something of “radicalism.” +Sap-headed fools! They will find something to do, I believe, soon, +besides railing against <i>radicals</i>. We will din “<i>radical</i>” and +“<i>national faith</i>” in their ears, till they shall dread the din as much +as a dog does the sound of the bell that is tied to the whip.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bollitree, Monday, 12 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>Returned this morning and rode about the farm, and also about that of +Mr. <span class="smcap">Winnal</span>, where I saw, for the first time, a plough going <i>without +being held</i>. The man drove the three horses that drew the plough, and +carried the plough round at the ends; but left it to itself the rest of +the time. There was a skim coulter that turned the sward in under the +furrow; and the work was done very neatly. This gentleman has six acres +of <i>cabbages</i>, on ridges four feet apart, with a distance of thirty +inches between the plants on the ridge. He has weighed one of what he +deemed an average weight, and found it to weigh fifteen pounds without +the stump. Now, as there are 4,320 upon an acre, the weight of the acres +is <i>thirty tons</i> all but 400 pounds! This is a prodigious crop, and it +is peculiarly well suited for food for sheep at this season of the year. +Indeed it is good for any farm-stock, oxen, cows, pigs: all like these +loaved cabbages. For hogs in yard, after the stubbles are gone; and +before the tops of the Swedes come in. What masses of manure may be +created by this means! But, above all things, for <i>sheep</i> to feed off +upon the ground. Common turnips have not half the substance in them +weight for weight. Then they are in the ground; they are <i>dirty</i>, and in +wet weather the sheep must starve, or eat a great deal of dirt. This +very day, for instance, what a sorry sight is a flock of fatting sheep +upon turnips; what a mess of dirt and stubble! The cabbage stands boldly +up above the ground, and the sheep eats it all up without treading a +morsel in the dirt. Mr. <span class="smcap">Winnal</span> has a large flock of sheep feeding on his +cabbages, which they will have finished, perhaps, by January. This +gentleman also has some “<i>radical Swedes</i>,” as they call them in +Norfolk. A part of his crop is on ridges <i>five</i> feet apart with <i>two +rows</i> on the ridge, a part on <i>four</i> feet ridges with <i>one</i> row on the +ridge. I cannot see that anything is gained in weight by the double +rows. I think that there may be nearly twenty tons to the acre. Another +piece Mr. <span class="smcap">Winnal</span> transplanted after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> vetches. They are very fine; and, +altogether, he has a crop that any one but a “<i>loyal</i>” farmer might envy +him.—This is really the <i>radical</i> system of husbandry. <i>Radical</i> means, +<i>belonging to the root; going to the root</i>. And the main principle of +this system (first taught by <i>Tull</i>) is that the <i>root</i> of the plant is +to be fed by <i>deep tillage</i> while it is growing; and to do this we must +have our <i>wide distances</i>. Our system of husbandry is happily +illustrative of our system of politics. Our lines of movement are fair +and straightforward. We destroy all weeds, which, like tax-eaters, do +nothing but devour the sustenance that ought to feed the valuable +plants. Our plants are all <i>well fed</i>; and our nations of Swedes and of +cabbages present a happy uniformity of enjoyments and of bulk, and not, +as in the broad-cast system of Corruption, here and there one of +enormous size, surrounded by thousands of poor little starveling things, +scarcely distinguishable by the keenest eye, or, if seen, seen only to +inspire a contempt of the husbandman. The Norfolk boys are, therefore, +right in calling their Swedes <i>Radical Swedes</i>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bollitree, Tuesday, 13 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>Rode to-day to see a <i>grove</i> belonging to Mrs. <span class="smcap">Westphalin</span>, which +contains the very finest trees, <i>oaks</i>, <i>chestnuts</i>, and <i>ashes</i>, that I +ever saw in England. This grove is worth going from London to Weston to +see. The Lady, who is very much beloved in her neighbourhood, is, +apparently, of the <i>old school</i>; and her house and gardens, situated in +a beautiful dell, form, I think, the most comfortable looking thing of +the kind that I ever saw. If she had known that I was in her grove, I +dare say she would have expected it to blaze up in flames; or, at least, +that I was come to view the premises previous to confiscation! I can +forgive persons like her; but I cannot forgive the Parsons and others +who have misled them! Mrs. <span class="smcap">Westphalin</span>, if she live many years, will find +that the best friends of the owners of the land are those who have +endeavoured to produce such <i>a reform of the Parliament</i> as would have +prevented the ruin of tenants.—This parish of <span class="smcap">Weston</span> is remarkable for +having a Rector <i>who has constantly resided for twenty years</i>! I do not +believe that there is an instance to match this in the whole kingdom. +However, the “<i>reverend</i>” gentleman may be assured that, before many +years have passed over their heads, they will be very glad to reside in +their parsonage houses.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bollitree, Wednesday, 14 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>Rode to the forest of Dean, up a very steep hill. The lanes here are +between high banks, and on the sides of the hills the road<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> is a rock, +the water having long ago washed all the earth away. Pretty works are, I +find, carried on here, as is the case in all the other <i>public forests</i>! +Are these things <i>always</i> to be carried on in this way? Here is a domain +of thirty thousand acres of the finest timber-land in the world, and +with coal-mines endless! Is this <i>worth nothing</i>? Cannot each acre yield +ten trees a year? Are not these trees worth a pound apiece? Is not the +estate worth three or four hundred thousand pounds a year? And does it +yield <i>anything to the public</i>, to whom it belongs? But it is useless to +waste one’s breath in this way. We must have a <i>reform of the +Parliament</i>: without it the whole thing will fall to pieces.—The only +good purpose that these forests answer is that of furnishing a place of +being to labourers’ families on their skirts; and here their cottages +are very neat, and the people look hearty and well, just as they do +round the forests in Hampshire. Every cottage has a pig or two. These +graze in the forest, and, in the fall, eat acorns and beech-nuts and the +seed of the ash; for these last, as well as the others, are very full of +oil, and a pig that is put to his shifts will pick the seed very nicely +out from the husks. Some of these foresters keep cows, and all of them +have bits of ground, cribbed, of course, at different times, from the +forest: and to what better use can the ground be put? I saw several +wheat stubbles from 40 rods to 10 rods. I asked one man how much wheat +he had from about 10 rods. He said more than two bushels. Here is bread +for three weeks, or more perhaps; and a winter’s straw for the pig +besides. Are these things nothing? The dead limbs and old roots of the +forest give <i>fuel</i>; and how happy are these people, compared with the +poor creatures about Great Bedwin and Cricklade, where they have neither +land nor shelter, and where I saw the girls carrying home bean and wheat +stubble for fuel! Those countries, always but badly furnished with fuel, +the desolating and damnable system of paper-money, by sweeping away +small homesteads, and laying ten farms into one, has literally +<i>stripped</i> of all shelter for the labourer. A farmer, in such cases, has +a whole domain in his hands, and this not only to the manifest injury of +the public at large, but in <i>open violation of positive law</i>. The poor +forger is hanged; but where is the prosecutor of the monopolizing +farmer, though the <i>law</i> is as clear in the one case as in the other? +But it required this infernal system to render every wholesome +regulation nugatory; and to reduce to such abject misery a people famed +in all ages for the goodness of their food and their dress. There is one +farmer, in the North of Hampshire, who has nearly eight thousand acres +of land in his hands; who grows fourteen hundred acres of wheat and two +thousand acres of barley! He occupies what was formerly 40<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> farms! Is it +any wonder that <i>paupers increase</i>? And is there not here cause enough +for the increase of <i>poor</i>, without resorting to the doctrine of the +barbarous and impious <span class="smcap">Malthus</span> and his assistants, the <i>feelosofers</i> of +the Edinburgh Review, those eulogists and understrappers of the +Whig-Oligarchy? “This farmer has done nothing <i>unlawful</i>,” some one will +say. I say he has; for there is a law to forbid him thus to monopolize +land. But no matter; the laws, the management of the affairs of a +nation, <i>ought to be such as to prevent the existence of the temptation +to such monopoly</i>. And, even now, the evil ought to be remedied, and +could be remedied, in the space of half a dozen years. The disappearance +of the paper-money would do the thing in time; but this might be +assisted by legislative measures.—In returning from the forest we were +overtaken by my son, whom I had begged to come from London to see this +beautiful country. On the road-side we saw two lazy-looking fellows, in +long great-coats and bundles in their hands, going into a cottage. “What +do you deal in?” said I, to one of them, who had not yet entered the +house. “In the <i>medical way</i>,” said he. And I find that vagabonds of +this description are seen all over the country with <i>tea-licences</i> in +their pockets. They vend <i>tea</i>, <i>drugs</i>, and <i>religious tracts</i>. The +first to bring the body into a debilitated state; the second to finish +the corporeal part of the business; and the third to prepare the spirit +for its separation from the clay! Never was a system so well calculated +as the present to degrade, debase, and enslave a people! Law, and as if +that were not sufficient, enormous subscriptions are made; everything +that can be done is done to favour these perambulatory impostors in +their depredations on the ignorant, while everything that can be done is +done to prevent them from reading, or from hearing of, anything that has +a tendency to give them rational notions, or to better their lot. +However, all is not buried in ignorance. Down the deep and beautiful +valley between Penyard Hill and the Hills on the side of the Forest of +Dean, there runs a stream of water. On that stream of water there is a +<i>paper-mill</i>. In that paper-mill there is a set of workmen. That set of +workmen do, I am told, <i>take the Register</i>, and have taken it for years! +It was to these good and sensible men, it is supposed, that the <i>ringing +of the bells</i> of Weston church, upon my arrival, was to be ascribed; for +nobody that I visited had any knowledge of the cause. What a subject for +lamentation with corrupt hypocrites! That even on this secluded spot +there should be a leaven of common-sense! No: <i>all</i> is not enveloped in +brute ignorance yet, in spite of every artifice that hellish Corruption +has been able to employ; in spite of all her menaces and all her +brutalities and cruelties.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Old Hall, Thursday, 15 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>We came this morning from Bollitree to <i>Ross-Market</i>, and, thence, to +this place. Ross is an old-fashioned town; but it is very beautifully +situated, and if there is little of <i>finery</i> in the appearance of the +inhabitants, there is also little of <i>misery</i>. It is a good, plain +country town, or settlement of tradesmen, whose business is that of +supplying the wants of the cultivators of the soil. It presents to us +nothing of rascality and roguishness of look which you see on almost +every visage in the <i>borough-towns</i>, not excepting the visages of the +women. I can tell a borough-town from another upon my entrance into it +by the nasty, cunning, leering, designing look of the people; a look +between that of a bad (for <i>some</i> are good) Methodist Parson and that of +a pickpocket. I remember, and I never shall forget, the horrid looks of +the villains in Devonshire and Cornwall. Some people say, “O, <i>poor +fellows</i>! It is not <i>their</i> fault.” No? Whose fault is it, then? The +miscreants who bribe them? True, that these deserve the halter (and some +of them may have it yet); but are not the takers of the bribes <i>equally</i> +guilty? If we be so very lenient here, pray let us ascribe to the +<i>Devil</i> all the acts of thieves and robbers: so we do; but we <i>hang</i> the +thieves and robbers, nevertheless. It is no very unprovoking reflection, +that from these sinks of atrocious villany come a very considerable part +of the men to fill places of emolument and trust. What a clog upon a +Minister to have people, bred in such scenes, forced upon him! And why +does this curse continue? However, its natural consequences are before +us; and are coming on pretty fast upon each other’s heels. There are the +landlords and farmers in a state of absolute ruin: there is the Debt, +pulling the nation down like as a stone pulls a dog under water. The +system seems to have fairly wound itself up; to have tied itself hand +and foot with cords of its own spinning!—This is the town to which <span class="smcap">Pope</span> +has given an interest in our minds by his eulogium on the “<i>Man of +Ross</i>,” a portrait of whom is hanging up in a house in which I now +am.—The market at Ross was very <i>dull</i>. No wheat in demand. No buyers. +It must <i>come down</i>. Lord Liverpool’s <i>remedy</i>, a bad harvest, has +assuredly failed. Fowls 2<i>s.</i> a couple; a goose from 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> to +3<i>s.</i>; a turkey from 3<i>s.</i> to 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Let a turkey come down to <i>a +shilling</i>, as in France, and then we shall soon be to rights.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Friday, 16 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>A whole day most delightfully passed a hare-hunting, with a pretty pack +of hounds kept here by Messrs. Palmer. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> put me upon a horse that +seemed to have been made on purpose for me, strong, tall, gentle and +bold; and that carried me either over or through everything. I, who am +just the weight of a four-bushel sack of good wheat, actually sat on his +back from daylight in the morning to dusk (about nine hours) without +once setting my foot on the ground. Our ground was at Orcop, a place +about four miles’ distance from this place. We found a hare in a few +minutes after throwing off; and in the course of the day we had to find +four, and were never more than ten minutes in finding. A steep and naked +ridge, lying between two flat valleys, having a mixture of pretty large +fields and small woods, formed our ground. The hares crossed the ridge +forward and backward, and gave us numerous views and very fine sport.—I +never rode on such steep ground before; and really, in going up and down +some of the craggy places, where the rains had washed the earth from the +rocks, I did think, once or twice, of my neck, and how Sidmouth would +like to see me.—As to the <i>cruelty</i>, as some pretend, of this sport, +that point I have, I think, settled in one of the Chapters of my +“<i>Year’s Residence in America</i>.” As to the expense, a pack, even a full +pack of harriers, like this, costs less than two bottles of wine a day +with their inseparable concomitants. And as to the <i>time</i> thus spent, +hunting is inseparable from <i>early rising</i>: and with habits of early +rising, who ever wanted time for any business?</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Oxford,<br />Saturday, 17 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>We left <span class="smcap">Old Hall</span> (where we always breakfasted by candle-light) this +morning after breakfast; returned to Bollitree; took the Hereford coach +as it passed about noon; and came in it through Gloucester, Cheltenham, +Northleach, Burford, Whitney, and on to this city, where we arrived +about ten o’clock. I could not leave <i>Herefordshire</i> without bringing +with me the most pleasing impressions. It is not for one to descend to +particulars in characterising one’s personal friends; and, therefore, I +will content myself with saying, that the treatment I met with in this +beautiful county, where I saw not one single face that I had, to my +knowledge, ever seen before, was much more than sufficient to compensate +to me, personally, for all the atrocious calumnies, which, for twenty +years, I have had to endure; but where is my country, a great part of +the present hideous sufferings of which will, by every reflecting mind, +be easily traced to these calumnies, which have been made the ground, or +pretext, for rejecting that counsel by listening to which those +sufferings would have been prevented; where is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> my country to find a +compensation?——At <i>Gloucester</i> (as there were no meals on the road) we +furnished ourselves with nuts and apples, which, first a handful of nuts +and then an apple, are, I can assure the reader, excellent and most +wholesome fare. They say that nuts of all sorts are unwholesome; if they +had been, I should never have written Registers, and if they were now, I +should have ceased to write ere this; for, upon an average, I have eaten +a pint a day since I left home. In short, I could be very well content +to live on nuts, milk, and home-baked bread.——From <i>Gloucester</i> to +<i>Cheltenham</i> the country is level, and the land rich and good. The +fields along here are ploughed in ridges about 20 feet wide, and the +angle of this species of <i>roof</i> is pretty nearly as sharp as that of +some slated roofs of houses. There is no wet under; it is the top wet +only that they aim at keeping from doing mischief.—<i>Cheltenham</i> is a +nasty, ill-looking place, half clown and half cockney. The town is one +street about a mile long; but, then, at some distance from this street, +there are rows of white tenements, with green balconies, like those +inhabited by the tax-eaters round London. Indeed, this place appears to +be the residence of an assemblage of tax-eaters. These vermin shift +about between London, Cheltenham, Bath, Bognor, Brighton, Tunbridge, +Ramsgate, Margate, Worthing, and other spots in England, while some of +them get over to France and Italy: just like those body-vermin of +different sorts that are found in different parts of the tormented +carcass at different hours of the day and night, and in different +degrees of heat and cold.</p> + +<p>Cheltenham is at the foot of a part of that chain of hills which form +the sides of that <i>dish</i> which I described as resembling the vale of +Gloucester. Soon after quitting this resort of the lame and the lazy, +the gormandizing and guzzling, the bilious and the nervous, we proceeded +on, between stone walls, over a country little better than that from +Cirencester to Burlip-hill.——A very poor, dull, and uninteresting +country all the way to Oxford.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere (Hants),<br />Sunday, 18 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>We left Oxford early, and went on, through <i>Abingdon</i> (Berks) to +<i>Market-Ilsley</i>. It is a saying, hereabouts, that at Oxford they make +the living pay for the dead, which is precisely according to the +Pitt-System. Having smarted on this account, we were afraid to eat again +at an Inn; so we pushed on through Ilsley towards Newbury, breakfasting +upon the residue of the nuts, aided by a new supply of apples bought +from a poor man, who exhibited them in his window. Inspired, like Don +Quixote, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> the <i>sight of the nuts</i>, and recollecting the last night’s +bill, I exclaimed: “Happy! thrice happy and blessed, that golden age, +when men lived on the simple fruits of the earth and slaked their thirst +at the pure and limpid brook! when the trees shed their leaves to form a +couch for their repose, and cast their bark to furnish them with a +canopy! Happy age; when no Oxford landlord charged two men, who had +dropped into a common coach-passenger room, and who had swallowed three +pennyworths of food, ‘four shillings for <i>teas</i>,’ and ‘eighteen pence +for <i>cold meat</i>,’ ‘two shillings for <i>moulds and fire</i>’ in this common +coach-room, and ‘five shillings for <i>beds</i>!’” This was a sort of grace +before meat to the nuts and apples; and it had much <ins class="correction" title="original: nore">more</ins> merit than the +harangue of Don Quixote; for he, before he began upon the nuts, had +stuffed himself well with goat’s flesh and wine, whereas we had +absolutely <i>fled</i> from the breakfast-table and blazing fire at +Oxford.—Upon beholding the masses of buildings at Oxford devoted to +what they call “<i>learning</i>,” I could not help reflecting on the drones +that they contain and the wasps they send forth! However, malignant as +some are, the great and prevalent characteristic is <i>folly</i>: emptiness +of head; want of talent; and one half of the fellows who are what they +call <i>educated</i> here, are unfit to be clerks in a grocer’s or mercer’s +shop.—As I looked up at what they call <i>University Hall</i>, I could not +help reflecting that what I had written, even since I left Kensington on +the 29th of October, would produce more effect, and do more good in the +world, than all that had for a hundred years been written by all the +members of this University, who devour, perhaps, not less than <i>a +million pounds a year</i>, arising from property, completely at the +disposal of the “Great Council of the Nation;” and I could not help +exclaiming to myself: “Stand forth, ye big-wigged, ye gloriously feeding +Doctors! Stand forth, ye <i>rich</i> of that church whose <i>poor</i> have had +given them <i>a hundred thousand pounds a year</i>, not out of your riches, +but out of the <i>taxes</i>, raised, in part, from the <i>salt</i> of the +labouring man! Stand forth and face me, who have, from the pen of my +leisure hours, sent, amongst your flocks, a hundred thousand sermons in +ten months! More than you have all done for the last half century!”—I +exclaimed in vain. I dare say (for it was at peep of day) that not a man +of them had yet endeavoured to unclose his eyes.—In coming thro’ +Abingdon (Berks) I could not help thinking of that great financier, Mr. +John Maberly, by whom this place has, I believe, the honour to be +represented in the Collective Wisdom of the Nation.—In the way to +Ilsley we came across a part of that fine tract of land, called the +<i>Vale of Berkshire</i>, where they grow <i>wheat</i> and <i>beans</i>, one after +another, for many years <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>together. About three miles before we reached +Ilsley we came to <i>downs</i>, with, as is always the case, chalk under. +Between Ilsley and Newbury the country is enclosed; the land middling, a +stony loam; the woods and coppices frequent, and neither very good, till +we came within a short distance of Newbury. In going along we saw a +piece of wheat with cabbage-leaves laid all over it at the distance, +perhaps, of eight or ten feet from each other. It was to catch the +<i>slugs</i>. The slugs, which commit their depredations in the <i>night</i>, +creep under the leaves in the morning, and by turning up the leaves you +come at the slugs, and crush them, or carry them away. But besides the +immense daily labour attending this, the slug, in a field sowed with +wheat, has a <i>clod</i> to creep under at every foot, and will not go five +feet to get under a cabbage-leaf. Then again, if the day be <i>wet</i>, the +slug works by day as well as by night. It is the sun and drought that he +shuns, and not the light. Therefore the only effectual way to destroy +slugs is to sow lime, in dust, and <i>not slaked</i>. The slug is wet, he has +hardly any skin, his <i>slime</i> is his covering; the smallest dust of hot +lime kills him; and a few bushels to the acre are sufficient. You must +sow the lime at <i>dusk</i>; for then the slugs are sure to be out. Slugs +come after a crop that has long afforded a great deal of shelter from +the sun; such as peas and vetches. In gardens they are nursed up by +strawberry beds and by weeds, by asparagus beds, or by anything that +remains for a long time to keep the summer-sun from the earth. We got +about three o’clock to this nice, snug little farmhouse, and found our +host, Mr. Budd, at home.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere, Monday, 19 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>A thorough wet day, the only day the greater part of which I have not +spent out of doors since I left home.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere, Tuesday, 20 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>With Mr. Budd, we rode to-day to see the <i>Farm of Tull</i>, at <i>Shalborne</i>, +in Berkshire. Mr. Budd did the same thing with Arthur Young twenty-seven +years ago. It was a sort of <i>pilgrimage</i>; but as the distance was ten +miles, we thought it best to perform it on horseback.—We passed through +the parish of <i>Highclere</i>, where they have <i>enclosed commons</i>, worth, as +tillage land, not one single farthing an acre, and never will and never +can be. As a common it afforded a little picking for geese and asses, +and in the moory parts of it, a little fuel for the labourers. But now +it really can afford nothing. It will all fall to common again by +degrees. This madness, this blind eagerness to gain, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> now, I hope, +pretty nearly over.—At <i>East Woody</i> we passed the house of a Mr. +Goddard, which is uninhabited, he residing at Bath.—At <i>West Woody</i> +(Berks) is the estate of Mr. Sloper, a very pretty place. A beautiful +sporting country. Large fields, small woods, dry soil. What has taken +place here is an instance of the workings of the system. Here is a large +gentleman’s house. But the proprietor <i>lets it</i> (it is, just now, +empty), and resides in a <i>farmhouse</i> and farms his own estate. Happy is +the landlord who has the good sense to do this in time. This is a fine +farm, and here appears to be very judicious farming. Large tracts of +turnips; clean land; stubbles ploughed up early; ploughing with oxen; +and a very large and singularly fine flock of sheep. Everything that you +see, land, stock, implements, fences, buildings; all do credit to the +owner; bespeak his sound judgment, his industry and care. All that is +wanted here is the <i>radical husbandry</i>; because that would enable the +owner to keep three times the quantity of stock. However, since I left +home, I have seen but very few farms that I should prefer to that of Mr. +Sloper, whom I have not the pleasure to know, and whom, indeed, I never +heard of till I saw his farm. At a village (certainly named by some +<i>author</i>) called <i>Inkpen</i>, we passed a neat little house and paddock, +the residence of a Mr. Butler, a nephew of Dr. Butler, who died Bishop +of Oxford, and whom I can remember hearing preach at Farnham in Surrey +when I was a very very little boy. I have his features and his wig as +clearly in my recollection as if I had seen them but yesterday; and I +dare say I have not thought of Doctor Butler for forty years before +to-day. The “loyal” (oh, the pious gang!) will say that my memory is +good as to the face and wig, but bad as to the Doctor’s <i>Sermons</i>. Why, +I must confess that I have no recollection of them; but, then, do I not +<i>make Sermons myself</i>?——At about two miles from Inkpen we came to the +end of our pilgrimage. The farm, which was Mr. <i>Tull’s</i>; where he used +the first drill that ever was used; where he practised his husbandry; +where he wrote that book, which does so much honour to his memory, and +to which the cultivators of England owe so much; this farm is on an open +and somewhat bleak spot in Berkshire, on the borders of Wiltshire, and +within a very short distance of a part of Hampshire. The ground is a +loam, mixed with flints, and has the chalk at no great distance beneath +it. It is, therefore, free from <i>wet</i>; needs no water furrows; and is +pretty good in its nature. The house, which has been improved by Mr. +Blandy, the present proprietor, is still but a plain farmhouse. Mr. +Blandy has lived here thirty years, and has brought up ten children to +man’s and woman’s estate. Mr. Blandy was from home, but Mrs. Blandy +received and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> entertained us in a very hospitable manner.—We returned, +not along the low land, but along the top of the downs, and through Lord +Caernarvon’s park, and got home after a very pleasant day.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere, Wednesday, 21 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>We intended to have a hunt; but the foxhounds came across and rendered +it impracticable. As an instance of the change which rural customs have +undergone since the hellish paper-system has been so furiously at work, +I need only mention the fact, that, forty years ago, there were <i>five</i> +packs of <i>foxhounds</i> and <i>ten</i> packs of <i>harriers</i> kept within <i>ten +miles</i> of Newbury; and that now there is <i>one</i> of the former (kept, too, +by <i>subscription</i>) and <i>none</i> of the latter, except the few couple of +dogs kept by Mr. Budd! “So much the better,” says the shallow fool, who +cannot duly estimate the difference between a resident <i>native</i> gentry, +attached to the soil, known to every farmer and labourer from their +childhood, frequently mixing with them in those pursuits where all +artificial distinctions are lost, <ins class="correction" title="original: practi ing">practicing</ins> hospitality without +ceremony, from habit and not on calculation; and a gentry, only +now-and-then residing at all, having no relish for country-delights, +foreign in their manners, distant and haughty in their behaviour, +looking to the soil only for its rents, viewing it as a mere object of +speculation, unacquainted with its cultivators, despising them and their +pursuits, and relying for influence, not upon the good will of the +vicinage, but upon the dread of their power. The war and paper-system +has brought in nabobs, negro-drivers, generals, admirals, governors, +commissaries, contractors, pensioners, sinecurists, commissioners, +loan-jobbers, lottery-dealers, bankers, stock-jobbers; not to mention +the long and <i>black list</i> in gowns and three-tailed wigs. You can see +but few good houses not in possession of one or the other of these. +These, with the Parsons, are now the magistrates. Some of the +<i>consequences</i> are before us; but they have not all yet arrived. A +taxation that sucks up fifty millions a year <i>must</i> produce a new set of +proprietors every twenty years or less; and the proprietors, while they +last, can be little better than tax-collectors to the government, and +scourgers of the people.—I must not quit <i>Burghclere</i> without noticing +Mr. Budd’s <i>radical</i> Swedes and other things. His is but miniature +farming; but it is very good, and very interesting. Some time in May, he +drilled a piece of Swedes on four feet ridges. The fly took them off. He +had cabbage and mangel-wurzel plants to put in their stead. Unwilling to +turn back the ridges, and thereby bring the dung to the top, he planted +the cabbages and mangel-wurzel on the ridges where the Swedes had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +drilled. This was done in June. Late in July, his neighbour, a farmer +Hulbert, had a field of Swedes that he was hoeing. Mr. Budd now put some +manure in the furrows between the ridges, and ploughed a furrow over it +from each ridge. On this he planted Swedes, taken from farmer Hulbert’s +field. Thus his plantation consisted of rows of plants <i>two feet apart</i>. +The result is a prodigious crop. Of the mangel-wurzel (greens and all) +he has not less than twenty tons to the acre. He can scarcely have less +of the cabbages, some of which are <i>green savoys</i> as fine as I ever saw. +And of the Swedes, many of which weigh from five to nine pounds, he +certainly has more than twenty tons to the acre. So that here is a crop +of, at the very least, <i>forty tons to the acre</i>. This piece is not much +more than half an acre; but he will, perhaps, not find so much cattle +food upon any four acres in the county. He is, and long has been, +feeding four milch cows, large, fine, and in fine condition, upon +cabbages sometimes, and sometimes on mangel-wurzel leaves. The butter is +excellent. Not the smallest degree of bitterness or bad taste of any +sort. Fine colour and fine taste. And here, upon not three quarters of +an acre of ground, he has, if he manage the thing well, enough food for +these four cows to the month of May! Can any system of husbandry equal +this? What would he do with these cows, if he had not this crop? He +could not keep one of them, except on hay. And he owes all this crop to +transplanting. He thinks that the transplanting, fetching the Swede +plants and all, might cost him ten or twelve shillings. It was done by +women, who had never done such a thing before.——However, he must get +in his crop before the hard weather comes; or my Lord Caernarvon’s hares +will help him. They have begun already; and it is curious that they have +begun on the mangel-wurzel roots. So that hares, at any rate, have set +the seal of merit upon this root.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Whitchurch,<br />Thursday (night), 22 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>We have come round here, instead of going by Newbury in consequence of a +promise to Mr. <span class="smcap">Blount</span> at Uphusband, that I would call on him on my +return. We left Uphusband by lamp-light, and, of course, we could see +little on our way.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington,<br />Friday, 23 Nov.</i></p> + +<p>Got home by the coach. At leaving Whitchurch we soon passed the mill +where the Mother-Bank paper is made! Thank God, this mill is likely soon +to want employment! Hard by is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> a pretty park and house, belonging to +“<i>’Squire</i>” Portal, the <i>paper-maker</i>. The country people, who seldom +want for sarcastic shrewdness, call it “<i>Rag Hall</i>”!—I perceive that +they are planting oaks on the “<i>wastes</i>,” as the <i>Agriculturasses</i> call +them, about <i>Hartley Row</i>; which is very good; because the herbage, +after the first year, is rather increased than diminished by the +operation; while, in time, the oaks arrive at a timber state, and add to +the beauty and to the <i>real wealth</i> of the country, and to the real and +solid wealth of the descendants of the planter, who, in every such case, +merits unequivocal praise, because he plants for his children’s +children.—The planter here is <span class="smcap">Lady Mildmay</span>, who is, it seems, Lady of +the Manors about here. It is impossible to praise this act of hers too +much, especially when one considers her <i>age</i>. I beg a thousand pardons! +I do not mean to say that her Ladyship is <i>old</i>; but she has long had +grand-children. If her Ladyship had been a reader of old dread-death and +dread-devil Johnson, that teacher of moping and melancholy, she never +would have planted an oak tree. If the writings of this time-serving, +mean, dastardly old pensioner had got a firm hold of the minds of the +people at large, the people would have been bereft of their very souls. +These writings, aided by the charm of pompous sound, were fast making +their way, till light, reason, and the French revolution came to drive +them into oblivion; or, at least, to confine them to the shelves of +repentant, married old rakes, and those of old stock-jobbers with young +wives standing in need of something to keep down the unruly ebullitions +which are apt to take place while the “dearies” are gone hobbling to +’Change.——“After <i>pleasure</i> comes <i>pain</i>,” says Solomon; and after the +sight of Lady Mildmay’s truly noble plantations, came that of the clouts +of the “gentlemen cadets” of the “<i>Royal Military College of +Sandhurst</i>!” Here, close by the road side, is the <i>drying-ground</i>. +Sheets, shirts, and all sorts of things were here spread upon lines, +covering, perhaps, an acre of ground! We soon afterwards came to “<i>York</i> +Place” on “<i>Osnaburg</i> Hill.” And is there never to be an <i>end</i> of these +things? Away to the left, we see that immense building, which contains +children <i>breeding up to be military commanders</i>! Has this plan cost so +little as two millions of pounds? I never see this place (and I have +seen it forty times during the last twenty years) without asking myself +this question: Will this thing be suffered to go on; will this thing, +created by money <i>raised by loan</i>; will this thing be upheld by means of +taxes, <i>while the interest of the Debt is reduced</i>, on the ground that +the nation is <i>unable to pay the interest in full</i>?—Answer that +question, Castlereagh, Sidmouth, Brougham, or Scarlett.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> +<h3>KENTISH JOURNAL: FROM KENSINGTON TO DARTFORD, ROCHESTER, CHATHAM, AND FAVERSHAM.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Tuesday, December 4, 1821,<br />Elverton Farm, near Faversham, Kent.</i></p> + +<p>This is the first time, since I went to France, in 1792, that I have +been on this side of <i>Shooters’ Hill</i>. The land, generally speaking, +from Deptford to Dartford is poor, and the surface ugly by nature, to +which ugliness there has been made, just before we came to the latter +place, a considerable addition by the enclosure of a common, and by the +sticking up of some shabby-genteel houses, surrounded with dead fences +and things called gardens, in all manner of ridiculous forms, making, +all together, the bricks, hurdle-rods and earth say, as plainly as they +can speak, “Here dwell <i>vanity</i> and <i>poverty</i>.” This is a little +excrescence that has grown out of the immense sums which have been drawn +from other parts of the kingdom to be expended on Barracks, Magazines, +Martello-Towers, Catamarans, and all the excuses for lavish expenditure +which the war for the Bourbons gave rise to. All things will return; +these rubbishy flimsy things, on this common, will first be deserted, +then crumble down, then be swept away, and the cattle, sheep, pigs and +geese will once more graze upon the common, which will again furnish +heath, furze and turf for the labourers on the neighbouring +lands.—After you leave Dartford the land becomes excellent. You come to +a bottom of chalk, many feet from the surface, and when that is the case +the land is sure to be good; no <i>wet</i> at bottom, no deep ditches, no +water furrows necessary; sufficiently moist in dry weather, and no water +lying about upon it in wet weather for any length of time. The chalk +acts as a filtering-stone, not as a sieve, like gravel, and not as a +dish, like clay. The chalk acts as the soft stone in Herefordshire does; +but it is not so congenial to trees that have tap-roots.—Along through +Gravesend towards Rochester the country presents a sort of gardening +scene. Rochester (the Bishop of which is, or lately was, <i>tax Collector +for London and Middlesex</i>) is a small but crowded place, lying on the +south bank of the beautiful Medway, with a rising ground on the other +side of the city. <i>Stroud</i>, which you pass through before you come to +the bridge, over which you go to enter Rochester; <i>Rochester</i> itself, +and <i>Chatham</i>, form, in fact, one main street of about two miles and a +half in length.—Here I was got into the scenes of my cap-and-feather +days! Here, at between sixteen and seventeen, I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>enlisted for a soldier. +Upon looking up towards the fortifications and the barracks, how many +recollections crowded into my mind! The girls in these towns do not seem +to be <i>so pretty</i> as they were thirty-eight years ago; or, am I not so +quick in discovering beauties as I was then? Have thirty-eight years +corrected my taste, or made me a hypercritic in these matters? Is it +that I now look at them with the solemnness of a “professional man,” and +not with the enthusiasm and eagerness of an “amateur?” I leave these +questions for philosophers to solve. One thing I will say for the young +women of these towns, and that is, that I always found those of them +that I had the great happiness to be acquainted with, evince a sincere +desire to do their best to smooth the inequalities of life, and to give +us, “brave fellows,” as often as they could, strong beer, when their +churlish masters of fathers or husbands would have drenched us to death +with small. This, at the out-set of life, gave me a high opinion of the +judgment and justice of the female sex; an opinion which has been +confirmed by the observations of my whole life.—This Chatham has had +some monstrous <i>wens</i> stuck on to it by the lavish expenditure of the +war. These will moulder away. It is curious enough that I should meet +with a gentleman in an inn at Chatham to give me a picture of the +house-distress in that enormous wen, which, during the war, was stuck on +to Portsmouth. Not less than fifty thousand people had been drawn +together there! These are now dispersing. The coagulated blood is +diluting and flowing back through the veins. Whole streets are deserted, +and the eyes of the houses knocked out by the boys that remain. The +jackdaws, as much as to say, “Our turn to be inspired and to teach is +come,” are beginning to take possession of the Methodist chapels. The +gentleman told me that he had been down to Portsea to sell half a street +of houses, left him by a relation; and that nobody would give him +anything for them further than as very cheap fuel and rubbish! Good God! +And is this “prosperity?” Is this the “prosperity of the war?” Have I +not, for twenty long years, been regretting the existence of these +unnatural embossments; these white-swellings, these odious wens, +produced by <i>Corruption</i> and engendering crime and misery and slavery? +We shall see the whole of these wens abandoned by the inhabitants, and, +at last, the cannons on the fortifications may be of some use in +battering down the buildings.—But what is to be the fate of the great +wen of all? The monster called, by the silly coxcombs of the press, “the +metropolis of the empire”? What is to become of that multitude of towns +that has been stuck up around it? The village of Kingston was smothered +in the town of Portsea; and why?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> Because taxes, drained from other +parts of the kingdom, were brought thither.</p> + +<p>The dispersion of the wen is the only real difficulty that I see in +settling the affairs of the nation and restoring it to a happy state. +But dispersed it <i>must</i> be; and if there be half a million, or more, of +people to suffer, the consolation is, that the suffering will be divided +into half a million of parts. As if the swelling out of London, +naturally produced by the Funding System, were not sufficient; as if the +evil were not sufficiently great from the inevitable tendency of the +system of loans and funds, our pretty gentlemen must resort to positive +institutions to augment the population of the Wen. They found that the +increase of the Wen produced an increase of thieves and prostitutes, an +increase of all sorts of diseases, an increase of miseries of all sorts; +they saw that taxes drawn up to one point produced these effects; they +must have a “<i>penitentiary</i>,” for instance, to check the evil, and that +they must needs have in the Wen! So that here were a million of pounds, +drawn up in taxes, employed not only to keep the thieves and prostitutes +still in the <i>Wen</i>, but to bring up to the Wen workmen to build the +penitentiary, who and whose families, amounting, perhaps, to thousands, +make an addition to the cause of that crime and misery, to check which +is the object of the Penitentiary! People would follow, they must +follow, the million of money. However, this is of a piece with all the +rest of their goings on. They and their predecessors, Ministers and +<i>House</i>, have been collecting together all the materials for a dreadful +explosion; and if the explosion be not dreadful, other heads must point +out the means of prevention.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Wednesday, 5 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>The land on quitting Chatham is chalk at bottom; but before you reach +Sittingbourne there is a vein of gravel and sand under, but a great +depth of loam above. About Sittingbourne the chalk bottom comes again, +and continues on to this place, where the land appears to me to be as +good as it can possibly be. Mr. <span class="smcap">William Waller</span>, at whose house I am, has +grown, this year, Mangel-Wurzel, the roots of which weigh, I think, on +an average, twelve pounds, and in rows, too, at only about thirty inches +distant from each other. In short, as far as <i>soil</i> goes, it is +impossible to see a finer country than this. You frequently see a field +of fifty acres, level as a die, clean as a garden and as rich. Mr. +<i>Birkbeck</i> need not have crossed the Atlantic, and Alleghany into the +bargain, to look for land <i>too rich to bear wheat</i>; for here is a plenty +of it. In short, this is a country of hop-gardens, cherry, apple, pear +and filbert orchards, and quick-set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> hedges. But, alas! what, in point +of <i>beauty</i>, is a country without woods and lofty trees! And here there +are very few indeed. I am now sitting in a room, from the window of +which I look, <i>first</i>, over a large and level field of rich land, in +which the drilled wheat is finely come up, and which is surrounded by +clipped quickset hedges with a row of apple trees running by the sides +of them; <i>next</i>, over a long succession of rich meadows, which are here +called marshes, the shortest grass upon which will fatten sheep or oxen; +<i>next</i>, over a little branch of the salt water which runs up to +Faversham; <i>beyond that</i>, on the Isle of Shepry (or Shepway), which +rises a little into a sort of ridge that runs along it; rich fields, +pastures and orchards lie all around me; and yet, I declare, that I a +million times to one prefer, as a spot to <i>live on</i>, the heaths, the +miry coppices, the wild woods and the forests of Sussex and Hampshire.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursday, 6 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>“Agricultural distress” is the great topic of general conversation. The +<i>Webb Hallites</i> seem to prevail here. The fact is, farmers in general +read nothing but the newspapers; these, in the Wen, are under the +control of the Corruption of one or the other of the factions; and in +the country, nine times out of ten, under the control of the parsons and +landlords, who are the magistrates, as they are pompously called, that +is to say, Justices of the Peace. From such vehicles what are farmers to +learn? They are, in general, thoughtful and sensible men; but their +natural good sense is perverted by these publications, had it not been +for which we never should have seen “<i>a sudden transition from war to +peace</i>” lasting seven years, and more <i>sudden</i> in its destructive +effects at last than at first. <i>Sir Edward Knatchbull</i> and <i>Mr. +Honeywood</i> are the members of the “Collective Wisdom” for this county. +The former was, till of late, a <i>Tax-Collector</i>. I hear that he is a +great advocate for <i>corn-bills</i>! I suppose he does not wish to let +people who have <i>leases</i> see the bottom of the evil. He may get his +rents for this year; but it will be his last year, if the interest of +the Debt be not very greatly reduced. Some people here think that corn +is <i>smuggled in</i> even now! Perhaps it is, <i>upon the whole</i>, best that +the delusion should continue for a year longer; as that would tend to +make the destruction of the system more sure, or, at least, make the +cure more radical.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Friday, 7 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>I went through <i>Faversham</i>. A very pretty little town, and just ten +minutes’ walk from the market-place up to the Dover turnpike-road. Here +are the <i>powder-affairs</i> that Mr. <span class="smcap">Hume<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></span> so well exposed. An immensity of +buildings and expensive things. Why are not these premises let or sold? +However, this will never be done until there be a <i>reformed Parliament</i>. +Pretty little <span class="smcap">Van</span>, that beauty of all beauties; that orator of all +orators; that saint of all saints; that financier of all financiers, +said that if Mr. <span class="smcap">Hume</span> were to pare down the expenses of government to +<i>his</i> wish, there would be others “the Hunts, Cobbetts, and Carliles, +who would still want the expense to be less.” I do not know <i>how low</i> +Mr. Hume would wish to go; but for myself I say that if I ever have the +power to do it, I will reduce the expenditure, and that in quick time +too, down to what it was in the reign of Queen Anne; that is to say, to +less than is now paid to tax-gatherers for their labour in collecting +the taxes; and, monstrous as <span class="smcap">Van</span> may think the idea, I do not regard it +as impossible that I may have such power; which I would certainly not +employ to do an act of <i>injustice</i> to any human being, and would, at the +same time, maintain the throne in more real splendour than that in which +it is now maintained. But I would have nothing to do with any <span class="smcap">Vans</span>, +except as door-keepers or porters.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Saturday, 8 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>Came home very much pleased with my visit to Mr. <span class="smcap">Walker</span>, in whose house +I saw no drinking of wine, spirits, or even beer; where all, even to the +little children, were up by candle-light in the morning, and where the +most perfect sobriety was accompanied by constant cheerfulness. <i>Kent</i> +is in a deplorable way. The farmers are skilful and intelligent, +generally speaking. But there is infinite <i>corruption</i> in Kent, owing +partly to the swarms of West Indians, Nabobs, Commissioners, and others +of nearly the same description, that have selected it for the place of +their residence; but owing still more to the immense sums of public +money that have, during the last thirty years, been expended in it. And +when one thinks of these, the conduct of the people of Dover, +Canterbury, and other places, in the case of the ever-lamented Queen, +does them everlasting honour. The <i>fruit</i> in Kent is more <i>select</i> than +in Herefordshire, where it is raised for <i>cyder</i>, while, in Kent, it is +raised for sale in its fruit state, a great deal being sent to the +<i>Wen</i>, and a great deal sent to the North of England and to Scotland. +The orchards are beautiful indeed. Kept in the neatest order, and, +indeed, all belonging to them excels anything of the kind to be seen in +Normandy; and as to apples, I never saw any so good in France as those +of Kent. This county, so blessed by Providence, has been cursed by the +System in a peculiar degree. It has been the <i>receiver</i> of immense sums, +raised on the other counties. This<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> has puffed its <i>rents</i> to an +unnatural height; and now that the drain of other counties is stopped, +it feels like a pampered pony turned out in winter to live upon a +common. It is in an extremely “unsatisfactory state,” and has certainly +a greater mass of suffering to endure than any other part of the +kingdom, the <i>Wens</i> only excepted. Sir <span class="smcap">Edward Knatchbull</span>, who is a child +of the System, does appear to see no more of the cause of these +sufferings than if he were a baby. How should he? Not very bright by +nature; never listening but to one side of the question; being a man who +wants high rents to be paid him; not gifted with much light, and that +little having to strive against prejudice, false shame, and self +interest, what wonder is there that he should not see things in their +true light?</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>NORFOLK AND SUFFOLK JOURNAL.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bergh-Apton, near Norwich,<br />Monday, 10 Dec. 1821.</i></p> + +<p>From the <i>Wen</i> to Norwich, from which I am now distant seven miles, +there is nothing in Essex, Suffolk, or this county, that can be called a +<i>hill</i>. Essex, when you get beyond the immediate influence of the +gorgings and disgorgings of the Wen; that is to say, beyond the demand +for crude vegetables and repayment in manure, is by no means a fertile +county. There appears generally to be a bottom of <i>clay</i>; not <i>soft +chalk</i>, which they persist in calling clay in Norfolk. I wish I had one +of these Norfolk men in a coppice in Hampshire or Sussex, and I would +show him what <i>clay</i> is. Clay is what pots and pans and jugs and tiles +are made of; and not soft, whitish stuff that crumbles to pieces in the +sun, instead of baking as hard as a stone, and which, in dry weather, is +to be broken to pieces by nothing short of a sledge-hammer. The narrow +ridges on which the wheat is sown; the water furrows; the water standing +in the dips of the pastures; the rusty iron-like colour of the water +coming out of some of the banks; the deep ditches; the rusty look of the +pastures—all show, that here is a bottom of clay. Yet there is gravel +too; for the oaks do not grow well. It was not till I got nearly to +<span class="smcap">Sudbury</span> that I saw much change for the better. Here the bottom of chalk, +the soft dirty-looking chalk that the Norfolk people call clay, begins +to be the bottom, and this, with very little exception (as far as I have +been) is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> bottom of all the lands of these two fine counties of +Suffolk and Norfolk.—<span class="smcap">Sudbury</span> has some fine meadows near it on the sides +of the river Stour. The land all along to Bury Saint Edmund’s is very +fine; but no trees worth looking at. <i>Bury</i>, formerly the seat of an +Abbot, the last of whom was, I think, hanged, or somehow put to death, +by that matchless tyrant, Henry VIII., is a very pretty place; extremely +clean and neat; no ragged or dirty people to be seen, and women (<i>young</i> +ones I mean) very pretty and very neatly dressed.—On this side of Bury, +a considerable distance lower, I saw a field of <i>Rape</i>, transplanted +very thick, for, I suppose, sheep feed in the spring. The farming all +along to Norwich is very good. The land clean, and everything done in a +masterly manner.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Tuesday, 11 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Samuel Clarke</span>, my host, has about 30 acres of <i>Swedes</i> in rows. Some +at 4 feet distances, some at 30 inches; and about 4 acres of the 4-feet +Swedes were transplanted. I have seen thousands of acres of Swedes in +these counties, and here are the largest crops that I have seen. The +widest rows are decidedly the largest crops here; and, the +<i>transplanted</i>, though under disadvantageous circumstances, amongst the +best of the best. The wide rows amount to at least 20 tons to the acre, +exclusive of the greens taken off two months ago, which weighed 5 tons +to the acre. Then, there is the inter tillage, so beneficial to the +land, and the small quantity of manure required in the broad rows, +compared to what is required when the seed is drilled or sown upon the +level. Mr. <span class="smcap">Nicholls</span>, a neighbour of Mr. <span class="smcap">Clarke</span>, has a part of a field +transplanted on <i>seven turn ridges</i>, put in when in the other part of +the field, drilled, the plants were a fortnight old. He has a much +larger crop in the transplanted than in the drilled part. But, if it had +been a <i>fly-year</i>, he might have had <i>none</i> in the drilled part, while, +in all probability, the crop in the transplanted part would have been +better than it now is, seeing that a <i>wet</i> summer, though favourable to +the hitting of the Swedes, is by no means favourable to their attaining +a great size of bulb. This is the case this year with all turnips. A +great deal of leaf and neck, but not bulbs in proportion. The advantages +of transplanting are, <i>first</i>, you make sure of a crop in spite of fly; +and, <i>second</i>, you have six weeks or two months longer to prepare your +ground. And the advantages of wide rows are, <i>first</i>, that you want only +about half the quantity of manure; and, <i>second</i>, that you <i>plough</i> the +ground two or three times during the summer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Grove, near Holt, Thursday, 13th Dec.</i></p> + +<p>Came to the Grove (Mr. Withers’s), near Holt, along with Mr. Clarke. +Through <i>Norwich</i> to <i>Aylsham</i> and then to <i>Holt</i>. On our road we passed +the house of the late <i>Lord Suffield</i>, who married Castlereagh’s wife’s +sister, who is a daughter of the late Earl of Buckinghamshire, who had +for so many years that thumping sinecure of eleven thousand a year in +Ireland, and who was the son of a man that, under the name of Mr. +Hobart, cut such a figure in supporting Lord North and afterwards Pitt, +and was made a peer under the auspices of the latter of these two +heaven-born Ministers. This house, which is a very ancient one, was, +they say, the birth-place of Ann de Boleyne, the mother of Queen +Elizabeth. Not much matter; for she married the king while his real wife +was alive. I could have excused her, if there had been no marrying in +the case; but hypocrisy, always bad, becomes detestable when it resorts +to religious ceremony as its mask. She, no more than Cranmer, seems, to +her last moments, to have remembered her sins against her lawful queen. +Fox’s “<i>Book of Martyrs</i>,” that ought to be called “the <i>Book of +Liars</i>,” says that Cranmer, the recanter and re-recanter, held out his +offending hand in the flames, and cried out “that hand, that hand!” If +he had cried out <i>Catherine! Catherine!</i> I should have thought better of +him; but it is clear that the whole story is a lie, invented by the +protestants, and particularly by the sectarians, to white-wash the +character of this perfidious hypocrite and double apostate, who, if +bigotry had something to do in bringing him to the stake, certainly +deserved his fate, if any offences committed by man can deserve so +horrible a punishment.—The present <span class="smcap">Lord Suffield</span> is that Mr. <span class="smcap">Edward +Harbord</span>, whose father-in-law left him 500<i>l.</i> to buy a seat in +Parliament, and who refused to carry an address to the late beloved and +lamented Queen, because Major Cartwright and myself were chosen to +accompany him! Never mind, my Lord; you will grow less fastidious! They +say, however, that he is really good to his tenants, and has told them, +that he will take anything that they can give. There is some sense in +this! He is a great Bible Man; and it is strange that he cannot see, +that things are out of order, when <i>his</i> interference in this way can be +at all <i>necessary</i>, while there is a Church that receives a tenth part +of the produce of the earth.—There are some oak woods here, but very +poor. Not like those, not near like the worst of those, in Hampshire and +Herefordshire. All this eastern coast seems very unpropitious to trees +of all sorts.—We passed through the estate of a Mr. Marsin, whose house +is near the road, a very poor spot, and the first really poor ground<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> I +have seen in Norfolk. A nasty spewy black gravel on the top of a sour +clay. It is worse than the heaths between Godalming and Liphook; for, +while it is too poor to grow anything but heath, it is too cold to give +you the chirping of the grasshopper in summer. However, Mr. Marsin has +been too wise to enclose this wretched land, which is just like that +which Lord Caernarvon has enclosed in the parishes of Highclere, and +Burghclere, and which, for tillage, really is not worth a single +farthing an acre.—Holt is a little, old-fashioned, substantially-built +market-town. The land just about it, or, at least, towards the east, is +poor, and has been lately enclosed.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Friday, 14th Dec.</i></p> + +<p>Went to see the estate of Mr. Hardy at Leveringsett, a hamlet about two +miles from Holt. This is the first time that I have seen a <i>valley</i> in +this part of England. From Holt you look, to the distance of seven or +eight miles, over a very fine valley, leaving a great deal of inferior +hill and dell within its boundaries. At the bottom of this general +valley, Mr. Hardy has a very beautiful estate of about four hundred +acres. His house is at one end of it near the high road, where he has a +malt-house and a brewery, the neat and ingenious manner of managing +which I would detail if my total unacquaintance with machinery did not +disqualify me for the task. His estate forms a valley of itself, +somewhat longer than broad. The tops, and the sides of the tops of the +hills round it, and also several little hillocks in the valley itself, +are judiciously planted with trees of various sorts, leaving good wide +roads, so that it is easy to ride round them in a carriage. The fields, +the fences, the yards and stacks, the buildings, the cattle, all showed +the greatest judgment and industry. There was really nothing that the +most critical observer could say was <i>out of order</i>. However, the forest +trees do not grow well here. The oaks are mere scrubs, as they are about +Brentwood in Essex, and in some parts of Cornwall; and, for some +unaccountable reason, people seldom plant the <i>ash</i>, which no wind will +<i>shave</i>, as it does the oak.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Saturday, 15 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>Spent the evening amongst the Farmers, at their Market Room at Holt; and +very much pleased at them I was. We talked over the <i>cause of the low +prices</i>, and I, as I have done everywhere, endeavoured to convince them, +that prices must fall a great deal lower yet; and that no man, who +wishes not to be ruined, ought to keep or take a farm, unless on a +calculation of best wheat at 4<i>s.</i> a bushel and a best Southdown ewe at +15<i>s.</i> or even 12<i>s.</i> They heard me patiently, and, I believe, were well +convinced of the truth of what I said. I told them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> of the correctness +of the predictions of their great countryman, Mr. <span class="smcap">Paine</span>, and observed, +how much better it would have been, to take his advice, than to burn him +in effigy. I endeavoured (but in such a case all human powers must +fail!) to describe to them the sort and size of the talents of the +Stern-path-of-duty man, of the great hole-digger, of the jester, of the +Oxford scholar, of the loan-jobber (who had just made an enormous +grasp), of the Oracle, and so on. Here, as everywhere else, I hear every +creature speak loudly in praise of <i>Mr. Coke</i>. It is well known to my +readers, that I think nothing of him as a <i>public</i> man; that I think +even his good qualities an injury to his country, because they serve the +knaves whom he is duped by to dupe the people more effectually; but, it +would be base in me not to say, that I hear, from men of all parties, +and sensible men too, expressions made use of towards him that +affectionate children use towards the best of parents. I have not met +with a single exception.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bergh Apton,<br />Sunday, 16 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>Came from Holt through Saxthorpe and Cawston. At the former village were +on one end of a decent white house, these words, “<i>Queen Caroline; for +her Britons mourn</i>,” and a crown over all in black. I need not have +looked to see: I might have been sure that the owner of the house was a +<i>shoe-maker</i>, a trade which numbers more men of sense and of public +spirit than any other in the kingdom.—At Cawston we stopped at a public +house, the keeper of which had taken and read the Register for years. I +shall not attempt to describe the pleasure I felt at the hearty welcome +given us by Mr. Pern and his wife and by a young miller of the village, +who, having learnt at Holt that we were to return that way, had come to +meet us, the house being on the side of the great road, from which the +village is at some distance. This is the birth-place of the famous +<i>Botley Parson</i>, all the history of whom we now learned, and, if we +could have gone to the village, they were prepared to <i>ring the bells</i>, +and show us the old woman who nursed the <i>Botley Parson</i>! These Norfolk +<i>baws</i> never do things by halves. We came away, very much pleased with +our reception at Cawston, and with a promise, on my part, that, if I +visited the county again, I would write a Register there; a promise +which I shall certainly keep.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Great Yarmouth,<br />Friday (morning), 21st Dec.</i></p> + +<p>The day before yesterday I set out for Bergh Apton with Mr. <span class="smcap">Clarke</span>, to +come hither by the way of <i>Beccles</i> in Suffolk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> We stopped at Mr. +Charles Clarke’s at Beccles, where we saw some good and sensible men, +who see clearly into all the parts of the works of the “Thunderers,” and +whose anticipations, as to the “general working of events,” are such as +they ought to be. They gave us a humorous account of the “rabble” having +recently crowned a Jackass, and of a struggle between them and the +“Yeomanry Cavaltry.” This <i>was</i> a place of most ardent and blazing +<i>loyalty</i>, as the pretenders to it call it; but, it seems it now blazes +less furiously; it is milder, more measured in its effusions; and, with +the help of low prices, will become bearable in time. This Beccles is a +very pretty place, has watered meadows near it, and is situated amidst +fine lands. What a <i>system</i> it must be to make people wretched in a +country like this! Could he be <i>heaven-born</i> that invented such a +system? <span class="smcap">Gaffer Gooch’s</span> father, a very old man, lives not far from here. +We had a good deal of fun about the Gaffer, who will certainly never +lose the name, unless he should be made a Lord.—We slept at the house +of a friend of Mr. Clarke on our way, and got to this very fine town of +Great Yarmouth yesterday about noon. A party of friends met us and +conducted us about the town, which is a very beautiful one indeed. What +I liked best, however, was the hearty welcome that I met with, because +it showed, that the reign of calumny and delusion was passed. A company +of gentlemen gave me a dinner in the evening, and, in all my life I +never saw a set of men more worthy of my respect and gratitude. +Sensible, modest, understanding the whole of our case, and clearly +foreseeing what is about to happen. One gentleman proposed, that, as it +would be impossible for all to go to London, there should be a +<i>Provincial Feast of the Gridiron</i>, a plan, which, I hope, will be +adopted—I leave Great Yarmouth with sentiments of the sincerest regard +for all those whom I there saw and conversed with, and with my best +wishes for the happiness of all its inhabitants; nay, even the <i>parsons</i> +not excepted; for, if they did not come to welcome me, they collected in +a group to <i>see</i> me, and that was one step towards doing justice to him +whom their order have so much, so foully, and, if they knew their own +interest, so foolishly slandered.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bergh Apton,<br />22nd Dec. (night).</i></p> + +<p>After returning from Yarmouth yesterday, went to dine at +Stoke-Holy-Cross, about six miles off; got home at mid-night, and came +to Norwich this morning, this being market-day, and also the day fixed +on for a Radical Reform Dinner at the Swan Inn, to which I was invited. +Norwich is a very fine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> city, and the Castle, which stands in the middle +of it, on a hill, is truly majestic. The meat and poultry and vegetable +market is beautiful. It is kept in a large open square in the middle, or +nearly so, of the City. The ground is a pretty sharp slope, so that you +see all at once. It resembles one of the French markets, only <i>there</i> +the vendors are all standing and gabbling like parrots, and the meat is +lean and bloody and nasty, and the people snuffy and grimy in hands and +face, the contrary, precisely the contrary of all which is the case in +this beautiful market at Norwich, where the women have a sort of uniform +brown great coats, with white aprons and <i>bibs</i> (I think they call them) +going from the apron up to the bosom. They equal in neatness (for +nothing can surpass) the market women in Philadelphia.—The +cattle-market is held on the hill by the castle, and many <i>fairs</i> are +smaller in bulk of stock. The corn-market is held in a very magnificent +place, called Saint Andrew’s Hall, which will contain two or three +thousand persons. They tell me, that this used to be a most delightful +scene; a most joyous one; and, I think, it was this scene that Mr. +<span class="smcap">Curwen</span> described in such glowing colours when he was talking of the +Norfolk farmers, each worth so many thousands of pounds. Bear me +witness, reader, that <i>I never was dazzled</i> by such sights; that the +false glare never put my eyes out; and that, even then, twelve years +ago, I warned Mr. <span class="smcap">Curwen</span> of the <i>result</i>! Bear witness to this, my +Disciples, and justify the doctrines of him for whose sakes you have +endured persecution. How different would Mr. <span class="smcap">Curwen</span> find the scene +<i>now</i>! What took place at the dinner has been already recorded in the +Register; and I have only to add with regard to it, that my reception at +Norfolk was such, that I have only to regret the total want of power to +make those hearty Norfolk and Norwich friends any suitable return, +whether by act or word.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington,<br />Monday, 24 Dec.</i></p> + +<p>Went from Bergh Apton to Norwich in the morning, and from Norwich to +London during the day, carrying with me great admiration of and respect +for this county of <i>excellent farmers</i>, and hearty, open and spirited +men. The Norfolk people are quick and smart in their motions and in +their speaking. Very neat and <i>trim</i> in all their farming concerns, and +very skilful. Their land is good, their roads are level, and the bottom +of their soil is dry, to be sure; and these are great advantages; but +they are diligent, and make the most of everything. Their management of +all sorts of stock is most judicious; they are careful about manure; +their teams move quickly; and, in short,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> it is a county of most +excellent cultivators.—The churches in Norfolk are generally large and +the towers lofty. They have all been well built at first. Many of them +are of the Saxon architecture. They are, almost all (I do not remember +an exception), placed on the <i>highest</i> spots to be found near where they +stand; and, it is curious enough, that the contrary practice should have +prevailed in <i>hilly</i> countries, where they are generally found in +valleys and in low, sheltered dells, even in those valleys! These +churches prove that the people of Norfolk and Suffolk were always a +superior people in point of wealth, while the size of them proves that +the country parts were, at one time, a great deal more populous than +they now are. The great drawbacks on the beauty of these counties are, +their flatness and their want of fine woods; but, to those who can +dispense with these, Norfolk, under a wise and just government, can have +nothing to ask more than Providence and the industry of man have given.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Landlord Distress Meetings.</span></p> + +<p>For, in fact, it is not the <i>farmer</i>, but the <i>Landlord</i> and <i>Parson</i>, +who wants relief from the “<i>Collective</i>.” The tenant’s remedy is, +quitting his farm or bringing down his rent to what he can afford to +give, wheat being 3 or 4 shillings a bushel. This is his remedy. What +should <i>he</i> want high prices for? They can do <i>him</i> no good; and this I +proved to the farmers last year. The fact is, the Landlords and Parsons +are urging the farmers on to get <i>something done</i> to give them high +rents and high tithes.</p> + +<p>At <i>Hertford</i> there has been a meeting at which <i>some</i> sense was +discovered, at any rate. The parties talked about the <i>fund-holder</i>, the +<i>Debt</i>, the <i>taxes</i>, and so on, and seemed to be in a very warm temper. +Pray, keep yourselves <i>cool</i>, gentlemen; for you have a great deal to +endure yet. I deeply regret that I have not room to insert the +resolutions of this meeting.</p> + +<p>There is to be a meeting at <i>Battle</i> (East Sussex) on the 3rd instant, +at which <i>I mean to be</i>. I want to <i>see</i> my friends on the <i>South +Downs</i>. To see how they <i>look</i> now.</p> + +<p>[At a public dinner given to Mr. Cobbett at Norwich, on the market-day +above mentioned, the company drank the toast of <i>Mr. Cobbett and his +“Trash,”</i> the name “two-penny trash,” having being at one time applied +by Lord Castlereagh to the <i>Register</i>. In acknowledging this toast Mr. +Cobbett addressed the company in a speech, of which the following is a +passage:]</p> + +<p>“My thanks to you for having drunk my health, are great and sincere; but +much greater pleasure do I feel at the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>approbation bestowed on that +<i>Trash</i>, which has, for so many years been a mark for the finger of +scorn to be pointed at by ignorant selfishness and arrogant and insolent +power. To enumerate, barely to name, all, or a hundredth part of, the +endeavours that have been made to stifle this <i>Trash</i> would require a +much longer space of time than that which we have now before us. But, +gentlemen, those endeavours must have <i>cost money</i>; money must have been +expended in the circulation of Anti-Cobbett, and the endless bale of +papers and pamphlets put forth to check the progress of the <i>Trash</i>: +and, when we take into view the immense sums expended in keeping down +the spirit excited by the <i>Trash</i>, who of us is to tell, whether these +endeavours, taken altogether, may not have added <i>many millions</i> to that +debt, of which (without any hint at a <i>concomitant measure</i>) some men +have now the audacity, the unprincipled, the profligate assurance to +talk of reducing the interest. The Trash, Gentlemen, is now triumphant; +its triumph we are now met to celebrate; proofs of its triumph I myself +witnessed not many hours ago, in that scene where the best possible +evidence was to be found. In walking through St. Andrew’s Hall, my mind +was not so much engaged on the grandeur of the place, or on the +gratifying reception I met with; those hearty shakes by the hand which I +so much like, those smiles of approbation, which not to see with pride +would argue an insensibility to honest fame: even these, I do sincerely +assure you, engaged my mind much less than the melancholy reflection, +that, of the two thousand or fifteen hundred farmers then in my view, +there were probably <i>three-fourths</i> who came to the Hall with aching +hearts, and who would leave it in a state of mental agony. What a thing +to contemplate, Gentlemen! What a scene is here! A set of men, occupiers +of the land; producers of all that we eat, drink, wear, and of all that +forms the buildings that shelter us; a set of men industrious and +careful by habit; cool, thoughtful, and sensible from the instructions +of nature; a set of men provident above all others, and engaged in +pursuits in their nature stable as the very earth they till: to see a +set of men like this plunged into anxiety, embarrassment, jeopardy, not +to be described; and when the particular individuals before me were +famed for their superior skill in this great and solid pursuit, and were +blessed with soil and other circumstances to make them prosperous and +happy: to behold this sight would have been more than sufficient to sink +my heart within me, had I not been upheld by the reflection, that I had +done all in my power to prevent these calamities, and that I still had +in reserve that which, with the assistance of the sufferers themselves, +would restore them and the nation to happiness.”</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<h3>SUSSEX JOURNAL: TO BATTLE, THROUGH BROMLEY, SEVEN-OAKS, AND TUNBRIDGE.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Battle,<br />Wednesday, 2 Jan. 1822.</i></p> + +<p>Came here to-day from Kensington, in order to see what goes on at the +Meeting to be held here to-morrow, of the “Gentry, Clergy, Freeholders, +and Occupiers of Land in the Rape of Hastings, to take into +consideration the distressed state of the Agricultural interest.” I +shall, of course, give an account of this meeting after it has taken +place.—You come through part of <i>Kent</i> to get to <i>Battle</i> from the +Great <i>Wen</i> on the Surrey side of the Thames. The first town is Bromley, +the next Seven-Oaks, the next Tunbridge, and between Tunbridge and this +place you cross the boundaries of the two counties.—From the Surrey Wen +to Bromley the land is generally a deep loam on a gravel, and you see +few trees except elm. A very ugly country. On quitting Bromley the land +gets poorer; clay at bottom; the wheat sown on five, or seven, turn +lands; the furrows shining with wet; rushes on the wastes on the sides +of the road. Here there is a common, part of which has been enclosed and +thrown out again, or, rather, the fences carried away.—There is a frost +this morning, some ice, and the women look rosy-cheeked.—There is a +very great variety of soil along this road; bottom of yellow clay; then +of sand; then of sand-stone; then of solider stone; then (for about five +miles) of chalk; then of red clay; then chalk again; here (before you +come to Seven-Oaks) is a most beautiful and rich valley, extending from +east to west, with rich corn-fields and fine trees; then comes +sand-stone again; and the hop-gardens near Seven-Oaks, which is a pretty +little town with beautiful environs, part of which consists of the park +of <i>Knowle</i>, the seat of the Duchess of Dorset. It is a very fine place. +And there is another park, on the other side of the town. So that this +is a delightful place, and the land appears to be very good. The gardens +and houses all look neat and nice. On quitting Seven-Oaks you come to a +bottom of gravel for a short distance, and to a clay for many miles. +When I say that I saw teams <i>carting</i> gravel from this spot to a +distance of nearly <i>ten miles</i> along the road, the reader will be at no +loss to know what sort of bottom the land has all along here. The bottom +then becomes sand-stone again. This vein of land runs all along through +the county of Sussex, and the clay runs into Hampshire, across the +forests of Bere and Waltham, then across the parishes of Ouslebury, +Stoke, and passing between the sand hills of Southampton and chalk hills +of Winchester, goes westward till stopped by the chalky downs between +Romsey and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> Salisbury.—Tunbridge is a small but very nice town, and has +some fine meadows and a navigable river.—The rest of the way to Battle +presents, alternately, clay and sand-stone. Of course the coppices and +oak woods are very frequent. There is now and then a hop-garden spot, +and now and then an orchard of apples or cherries; but these are poor +indeed compared with what you see about Canterbury and Maidstone. The +agricultural state of the country or, rather, the quality of the land, +from Bromley to Battle, may be judged of from the fact, that I did not +see, as I came along, more than thirty acres of Swedes during the +fifty-six miles! In Norfolk I should, in the same distance, have seen +five hundred acres! However, man was not the maker of the land; and, as +to human happiness, I am of opinion, that as much, and even more, falls +to the lot of the leather-legged chaps that live in and rove about +amongst those clays and woods as to the more regularly disciplined +labourers of the rich and prime parts of England. As “God has made the +back to the burthen,” so the clay and coppice people make the dress to +the stubs and bushes. Under the sole of the shoe is <i>iron</i>; from the +sole six inches upwards is a high-low; then comes a leather bam to the +knee; then comes a pair of leather breeches; then comes a stout doublet; +over this comes a smock-frock; and the wearer sets brush and stubs and +thorns and mire at defiance. I have always observed, that woodland and +forest labourers are best off in the main. The coppices give them +pleasant and profitable work in winter. If they have not so great a +corn-harvest, they have a three weeks’ harvest in April or May; that is +to say, in the season of barking, which in Hampshire is called +<i>stripping</i>, and in Sussex <i>flaying</i>, which employs women and children +as well as men. And then in the great article of <i>fuel</i>! They <i>buy</i> +none. It is miserable work, where this is to be bought, and where, as at +Salisbury, the poor take by turns the making of fires at their houses to +boil four or five tea-kettles. What a winter-life must those lead, whose +turn it is not to make the fire! At Launceston in Cornwall a man, a +tradesman too, told me, that the people in general could not afford to +have fire in ordinary, and that he himself paid 3<i>d.</i> for boiling a leg +of mutton at another man’s fire! The leather-legged-race know none of +these miseries, at any rate. They literally get their fuel “by <i>hook</i> or +by <i>crook</i>,” whence, doubtless, comes that old and very expressive +saying, which is applied to those cases where people <i>will have a thing</i> +by one means or another.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Battle,<br />Thursday (night), 3 Jan. 1822.</i></p> + +<p>To-day there has been a <i>Meeting</i> here of the landlords and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> farmers in +this part of Sussex, which is called the <i>Rape of Hastings</i>. The object +was to agree on a petition to Parliament praying for <i>relief</i>! Good God! +Where is this to <i>end</i>? We now see the effects of those <i>rags</i> which I +have been railing against for the last twenty years. Here were collected +together not less than 300 persons, principally landlords and farmers, +brought from their homes by their distresses and by their alarms for the +future! Never were such things heard in any country before; and, it is +useless to hope, for terrific must be the consequences, if an effectual +remedy be not speedily applied. The town, which is small, was in a great +bustle before noon; and the Meeting (in a large room in the principal +inn) took place about one o’clock. Lord Ashburnham was called to the +chair, and there were present Mr. Curteis, one of the county members, +Mr. Fuller, who formerly used to cut <i>such a figure</i> in the House of +Commons, Mr. Lambe, and many other gentlemen of landed property within +the Rape, or district, for which the Meeting was held. Mr. Curteis, +after Lord Ashburnham had opened the business, addressed the Meeting.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fuller then tendered some Resolutions, describing the fallen state +of the landed interest, and proposing to pray, <i>generally</i>, for relief. +Mr. Britton complained, that it was not proposed to pray for some +<i>specific measure</i>, and insisted, that the cause of the evil was the +rise in the value of money without a corresponding reduction in the +taxes.—A Committee was appointed to draw up a petition, which was next +produced. It merely described the distress, and prayed generally for +relief. Mr. Holloway proposed an addition, containing an imputation of +the distress to restricted currency and unabated taxation, and praying +for a reduction of taxes. A discussion now arose upon two points: first, +whether the addition were admissible at all! and, second, whether Mr. +Holloway was qualified to offer it to the Meeting. Both the points +having been, at last, decided in the affirmative, the addition, or +amendment, was put, and <i>lost</i>; and then the original petition was +adopted.</p> + +<p>After the business of the day was ended, there was a dinner in the inn, +in the same room where the Meeting had been held. I was at this dinner; +and Mr. Britton having proposed my health, and Mr. Curteis, who was in +the Chair, having given it, I thought it would have looked like +mock-modesty, which is, in fact, only another term for hypocrisy, to +refrain from expressing my opinions upon a point or two connected with +the business of the day. I shall now insert a substantially correct +sketch of what the company was indulgent enough to hear from me at the +dinner; which I take from the report contained in the <i>Morning +Chronicle</i> of Saturday last. The report in the Chronicle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> has all the +<i>pith</i> of what I advanced relative to <i>the inutility of Corn Bills</i>, and +relative to <i>the cause of further declining prices</i>; two points of the +greatest importance in themselves, and which I was, and am, uncommonly +anxious to press upon the attention of the public.</p> + +<p>The following is a part of the speech so reported:—</p> + +<p>“I am decidedly of opinion, Gentlemen, that a Corn Bill of no +description, no matter what its principles or provisions, can do either +tenant or landlord any good; and I am not less decidedly of opinion, +that though prices are now low, they must, all the present train of +public measures continuing, be yet lower, and continue lower upon an +average of years and of seasons.—As to a Corn Bill; a law to prohibit +or check the importation of human food is a perfect novelty in our +history, and ought, therefore, independent of the reason, and the recent +experience of the case, to be received and entertained with great +suspicion. Heretofore, <i>premiums</i> have been given for the exportation, +and at other times, for the importation, of corn; but of laws to prevent +the importation of human food our ancestors knew nothing. And what says +recent experience? When the present Corn Bill was passed, I, then a +farmer, unable to get my brother farmers to join me, <i>petitioned singly</i> +against this Bill; and I stated to my brother farmers, that such a Bill +could do us no good, while it would not fail to excite against us the +ill-will of the other classes of the community; a thought by no means +pleasant. Thus has it been. The distress of agriculture was considerable +in magnitude then; but what is it now? And yet the Bill was passed; that +Bill which was to remunerate and protect is still in force; the farmers +got what they prayed to have granted them; and their distress, with a +short interval of tardy pace, has proceeded rapidly increasing from that +day to this. What, in the way of Corn Bill, can you have, Gentlemen, +beyond absolute prohibition? And, have you not, since about April, 1819, +had absolute prohibition? Since that time no corn has been imported, and +then only thirty millions of bushels, which, supposing it all to have +been wheat, was a quantity much too insignificant to produce any +sensible depression in the price of the immense quantity of corn raised +in this kingdom since the last bushel was imported. If your produce had +fallen in this manner, if your prices had come down very low, +immediately after the importation had taken place, there might have been +some colour of reason to impute the fall to the importation; but it so +happens, and as if for the express purpose of contradicting the crude +notions of Mr. Webb Hall, that your produce has fallen in price at a +greater rate, in proportion as time has removed you from the point of +importation; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> as to the circumstance, so ostentatiously put forward +by Mr. Hall and others, that there is still some of the imported corn +<i>unsold</i>, what does it prove but the converse of what those Gentlemen +aim at, that is to say, that the holders <i>cannot afford</i> to sell it at +present prices; for, if they could gain but ever so little by the sale, +would they keep it wasting and costing money in warehouse? There appears +with some persons to be a notion, that the importation of corn is a <i>new +thing</i>. They seem to forget, that, during the last war, when agriculture +was so <i>prosperous</i>, the <i>ports were always open</i>; that prodigious +quantities of corn were imported during the war; that, so far from +importation being prohibited, high <i>premiums</i> were given, paid out of +the taxes, partly raised upon English farmers, to induce men to import +corn. All this seems to be forgotten as much as if it had never taken +place; and now the distress of the English farmer is imputed to a cause +which was never before an object of his attention, and a desire is +expressed to put an end to a branch of commerce which the nation has +always freely carried on. I think, Gentlemen, that here are reasons +quite sufficient to make any man but Mr. Webb Hall slow to impute the +present distress to the importation of corn; but, at any rate, what can +you have beyond absolute efficient prohibition? No law, no duty, however +high; nothing that the Parliament can do can go beyond this; and this +you now have, in effect, as completely as if this were the only country +beneath the sky. For these reasons, Gentlemen, (and to state more would +be a waste of your time and an affront to your understandings,) I am +convinced, that, in the way of Corn Bill, it is impossible for the +Parliament to afford you any, even the smallest, portion of relief. As +to the other point, Gentlemen, the tendency which the present measures +and course of things have to carry prices <i>lower</i>, and considerably +lower than they now are, and to keep them for a permanency at that low +rate, this is a matter worthy of the serious attention of all connected +with the land, and particularly of that of the renting farmer. During +the <i>war</i> no importations distressed the farmer. It was not till peace +came that the cry of distress was heard. But, during the war, there was +a boundless issue of paper money. Those issues were instantly narrowed +by the peace, the law being, that the Bank should pay in cash six months +after the peace should take place. This was the cause of that distress +which led to the present Corn Bill. The disease occasioned by the +preparations for cash-payments, has been brought to a crisis by Mr. +Peel’s Bill, which has, in effect, doubled, if not tripled, the real +amount of the taxes, and violated all contracts for time; given triple +gains to every lender, and placed every borrower in jeopardy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington, Friday, 4 Jan. 1822.</i></p> + +<p>Got home from <i>Battle</i>. I had no time to see the town, having entered +the Inn on Wednesday in the dusk of the evening, having been engaged all +day yesterday in the Inn, and having come out of it only to get into the +coach this morning. I had not time to go even to see <i>Battle Abbey</i>, the +seat of the Webster family, now occupied by a man of the name of +<i>Alexander</i>! Thus they <i>replace them</i>! It will take a much shorter time +than most people imagine to put out all the ancient families. I should +think, that six years will turn out all those who receive nothing out of +taxes. The greatness of the estate is no protection to the owner; for, +great or little, it will soon yield him <i>no</i> rents; and, when the +produce is nothing in either case, the small estate is as good as the +large one. Mr. Curteis said, that the <i>land</i> was <i>immovable</i>; yes; but +the <i>rents are not</i>. And, if freeholds cannot be seized for common +contract debts, the carcass of the owner may. But, in fact, there will +be no rents; and, without these, the ownership is an empty sound. Thus, +at last, the burthen will, as I always said it would, fall upon the +<i>land-owner</i>; and, as the fault of supporting the system has been wholly +his, the burthen will fall upon the <i>right back</i>. Whether he will now +call in the people to help him to shake it off is more than I can say; +but, if he do not, I am sure that he must sink under it. And then, will +<i>revolution No. I.</i> have been accomplished; but far, and very far +indeed, will that be from being the <i>close</i> of the drama!—I cannot quit +Battle without observing, that the country is very pretty all about it. +All hill, or valley. A great deal of wood-land, in which the underwood +is generally very fine, though the oaks are not very fine, and a good +deal covered with <i>moss</i>. This shows, that the clay ends before the +<i>tap</i>-root of the oak gets as deep as it would go; for, when the clay +goes the full depth, the oaks are always fine.—The woods are too large +and too near each other for hare-hunting; and, as to coursing it is out +of the question here. But it is a fine country for shooting and for +harbouring game of all sorts.—It was rainy as I came home; but the +woodmen were at work. A great many <i>hop-poles</i> are cut here, which makes +the coppices more valuable than in many other parts. The women work in +the coppices, shaving the bark of the hop-poles, and, indeed, at various +other parts of the business. These poles are shaved to prevent <i>maggots</i> +from breeding in the bark and accelerating the destruction of the pole. +It is curious that the bark of trees should generate maggots; but it +has, as well as the wood, a <i>sugary</i> matter in it. The hickory wood in +America sends out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> from the ends of the logs when these are burning, +great quantities of the finest syrup that can be imagined. Accordingly, +that wood breeds maggots, or worms as they are usually called, +surprisingly. Our <i>ash</i> breeds worms very much. When the tree or pole is +cut, the moist matter between the outer bark and the wood putrifies. +Thence come the maggots, which soon begin to eat their way into the +wood. For this reason the bark is shaved off the hop-poles, as it ought +to be off all our timber trees, as soon as cut, especially the +ash.—Little boys and girls shave hop-poles and assist in other coppice +work very nicely. And it is pleasant work when the weather is dry +overhead. The woods, bedded with leaves as they are, are clean and dry +underfoot. They are warm too, even in the coldest weather. When the +ground is frozen several inches deep in the open fields, it is scarcely +frozen at all in a coppice where the underwood is a good plant, and +where it is nearly high enough to cut. So that the woodman’s is really a +pleasant life. We are apt to think that the birds have a hard time of it +in winter. But we forget the warmth of the woods, which far exceeds +anything to be found in farm yards. When Sidmouth started me from my +farm, in 1817, I had just planted my farm yard round with a pretty +coppice. But, never mind, Sidmouth and I shall, I dare say, have plenty +of time and occasion to talk about that coppice, and many other things, +before we die. And, can I, when I think of these things, now, <i>pity</i> +those to whom Sidmouth <i>owed his power</i> of starting me!—But let me +forget the subject for this time at any rate.—Woodland countries are +interesting on many accounts. Not so much on account of their masses of +green leaves, as on account of the variety of sights and sounds and +incidents that they afford. Even in winter the coppices are beautiful to +the eye, while they comfort the mind with the idea of shelter and +warmth. In spring they change their hue from day to day during two whole +months, which is about the time from the first appearance of the +delicate leaves of the birch to the full expansion of those of the ash; +and, even before the leaves come at all to intercept the view, what in +the vegetable creation is so delightful to behold as the bed of a +coppice bespangled with primroses and blue-bells? The opening of the +birch leaves is the signal for the pheasant to begin to crow, for the +blackbird to whistle, and the thrush to sing; and, just when the +oak-buds begin to look reddish, and not a day before, the whole tribe of +finches burst forth in songs from every bough, while the lark, imitating +them all, carries the joyous sounds to the sky. These are amongst the +means which Providence has benignantly appointed to sweeten the toils by +which food and raiment are produced; these the English<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> Ploughman could +once hear without the sorrowful reflection that he himself was a +<i>pauper</i>, and that the bounties of nature had, for him, been scattered +in vain! And shall he never see an end to this state of things? Shall he +never have the due reward of his labour? Shall unsparing taxation never +cease to make him a miserable dejected being, a creature famishing in +the midst of abundance, fainting, expiring with hunger’s feeble moans, +surrounded by a carolling creation? O! accursed paper-money! Has hell a +torment surpassing the wickedness of thy inventor?</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>SUSSEX JOURNAL: THROUGH CROYDON, GODSTONE, EAST-GRINSTEAD, AND UCKFIELD, +TO LEWES, AND BRIGHTON; RETURNING BY CUCKFIELD, WORTH, AND RED-HILL.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Lewes,<br />Tuesday, 8 Jan., 1822.</i></p> + +<p>Came here to-day, from home, to see what passes to-morrow at a Meeting +to be held here of the Owners and Occupiers of Land in the Rapes of +Lewes and Pevensey.—In quitting the great Wen we go through Surrey more +than half the way to Lewes. From Saint <i>George’s Fields</i>, which now are +covered with houses, we go, towards Croydon, between rows of houses, +nearly half the way, and the whole way is nine miles. There are, erected +within these four years, two entire miles of stock-jobbers’ houses on +this one road, and the work goes on with accelerated force! To be sure; +for, the taxes being, in fact, tripled by Peel’s Bill, the fundlords +increase in riches; and their accommodations increase of course. What an +at once horrible and ridiculous thing this country would become, if this +thing could go on only for a few years! And these rows of new houses, +added to the Wen, are proofs of growing prosperity, are they? These make +part of the increased capital of the country, do they? But how is this +Wen to be <i>dispersed</i>? I know not whether it be to be done by knife or +by caustic; but, dispersed it must be! And this is the only difficulty, +which I do not see the <i>easy</i> means of getting over.—Aye! these are +dreadful thoughts! I know they are: but, they ought not to be banished +from the mind; for they will <i>return</i>, and, at every return, they will +be more frightful. The man who cannot coolly look at this matter is +unfit for the times that are approaching. Let the interest of the Debt +be once well reduced (and that must be sooner or later) and then what is +to become of <i>half a million</i> at least of the people congregated in this +Wen? Oh! precious “Great Man now no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> more!” Oh! “Pilot that weathered +the Storm!” Oh! “Heaven-born” pupil of Prettyman! Who, but him who can +number the sands of the sea, shall number the execrations with which thy +memory will be loaded!—From London to Croydon is as ugly a bit of +country as any in England. A poor spewy gravel with some clay. Few trees +but elms, and those generally stripped up and villanously ugly.—Croydon +is a good market-town; but is, by the funds, swelled out into a +<i>Wen</i>.—Upon quitting Croydon for Godstone, you come to the chalk hills, +the juniper shrubs and the yew trees. This is an extension westward of +the vein of chalk which I have before noticed (see page 54) between +Bromley and Seven-Oaks. To the westward here lie Epsom Downs, which lead +on to Merrow Downs and St. Margaret’s Hill, then, skipping over +Guildford, you come to the Hog’s Back, which is still of chalk, and at +the west end of which lies Farnham. With the Hog’s Back this vein of +chalk seems to end; for then the valleys become rich loam, and the hills +sand and gravel till you approach the Winchester Downs by the way of +Alresford.—Godstone, which is in Surrey also, is a beautiful village, +chiefly of one street with a fine large green before it and with a pond +in the green. A little way to the right (going from London) lies the +vile rotten Borough of <i>Blechingley</i>; but, happily for Godstone, out of +sight. At and near Godstone the gardens are all very neat, and at the +Inn there is a nice garden well stocked with beautiful flowers in the +season. I here saw, last summer, some double violets as large as small +pinks, and the lady of the house was kind enough to give me some of the +roots.—From Godstone you go up a long hill of clay and sand, and then +descend into a level country of stiff loam at top, clay at bottom, +corn-fields, pastures, broad hedgerows, coppices, and oak woods, which +country continues till you quit Surrey about two miles before you reach +East-Grinstead. The woods and coppices are very fine here. It is the +genuine <i>oak-soil</i>; a bottom of yellow clay to any depth, I dare say, +that man can go. No moss on the oaks. No dead tops. Straight as larches. +The bark of the young trees with dark spots in it; sure sign of free +growth and great depth of clay beneath. The wheat is here sown on +five-turn ridges, and the ploughing is amongst the best that I ever +saw.—At East-Grinstead, which is a rotten Borough and a very shabby +place, you come to stiff loam at top with sand stone beneath. To the +south of the place the land is fine, and the vale on both sides a very +beautiful intermixture of woodland and corn-fields and pastures.—At +about three miles from Grinstead you come to a pretty village, called +Forest-Row, and then, on the road to Uckfield, you cross Ashurst Forest, +which is a heath, with here and there a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> birch scrubs upon it, +verily the most villanously ugly spot I ever saw in England. This lasts +you for five miles, getting, if possible, uglier and uglier all the way, +till, at last, as if barren soil, nasty spewy gravel, heath and even +that stunted, were not enough, you see some rising spots, which instead +of trees, presents you with black, ragged, hideous rocks. There may be +Englishmen who wish to see the coast of <i>Nova Scotia</i>. They need not go +to sea; for here it is to the life. If I had been in a long trance (as +our nobility seem to have been), and had been waked up here, I should +have begun to look about for the Indians and the Squaws, and to have +heaved a sigh at the thought of being so far from England.—From the end +of this forest without trees you come into a country of but poorish +wettish land. Passing through the village of Uckfield, you find an +enclosed country, with a soil of a clay cast all the way to within about +three miles of Lewes, when you get to a chalk bottom, and rich land. I +was at Lewes at the beginning of last harvest, and saw the fine farms of +the Ellmans, very justly renowned for their improvement of the breed of +<i>South-Down sheep</i>, and the younger Mr. John Ellman not less justly +blamed for the part he had taken in propagating the errors of Webb Hall, +and thereby, however unintentionally, assisting to lead thousands to +cherish those false hopes that have been the cause of their ruin. Mr. +Ellman may say that he <i>thought</i> he was right; but if he had read my +<i>New Year’s Gift</i> to the Farmers, published in the preceding January, he +could not think that he was right. If he had not read it, he ought to +have read it, before he appeared in print. At any rate, if no other +person had a right to censure his publications, I <i>had</i> that right. I +will here notice a calumny, to which the above visit to Lewes gave rise; +namely, that I went into the neighbourhood of the Ellmans, to find out +whether they ill-treated their labourers! No man that knows me will +believe this. The facts are these: the Ellmans, celebrated farmers, had +made a great figure in the evidence taken before the Committee. I was at +<span class="smcap">Worth</span>, about twenty miles from Lewes. The harvest was begun. Worth is a +woodland country. I wished to know the state of the crops; for I was, at +that very time, as will be seen by referring to the date, beginning to +write my First Letter to the Landlords. Without knowing anything of the +matter myself, I asked my host, Mr. Brazier, what good corn country was +nearest to us. He said Lewes. Off I went, and he with me, in a +post-chaise. We had 20 miles to go and 20 back in the same chaise. A bad +road, and rain all the day. We put up at the White Hart, took another +chaise, went round, and saw the farms, through the window of the chaise, +having stopped at a little public-house to ask which were they, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +having stopped now and then to get a sample out of the sheaves of wheat, +came back to the White Hart, after being absent only about an hour and a +half, got our dinner, and got back to Worth before it was dark; and +never asked, and never intended to ask, one single question of any human +being as to the conduct or character of the Ellmans. Indeed the evidence +of the elder Mr. Ellman was so fair, so honest, and so useful, +particularly as relating <i>to the labourers</i>, that I could not possibly +suspect him of being a cruel or hard master. He told the Committee, that +when he began business, forty-five years ago, every man in the parish +brewed his own beer, and that now, not one man did it, unless he gave +him the malt! Why, here was by far the most valuable part of the whole +volume of evidence. Then, Mr. Ellman did not present a parcel of +<i>estimates</i> and God knows what; but a plain and honest statement of +facts, the rate of day wages, of job wages, for a long series of years, +by which it clearly appeared how the labourer had been robbed and +reduced to misery, and how the poor-rates had been increased. He did +not, like Mr. George and other Bull-frogs, sink these interesting facts; +but honestly told the truth. Therefore, whatever I might think of his +endeavours to uphold the mischievous errors of Webb Hall, I could have +no suspicion that he was a hard master.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Lewes,<br />Wednesday, 9 Jan. 1822.</i></p> + +<p>The Meeting and the Dinner are now over. Mr. Davies Giddy was in the +Chair: the place the County Hall. A Mr. Partington, a pretty little +oldish smart truss nice cockney-looking gentleman, with a yellow and red +handkerchief round his neck, moved the petition, which was seconded by +Lord Chichester, who lives in the neighbourhood. Much as I had read of +that great Doctor of <i>virtual representation</i> and <i>Royal Commissioner of +Inimitable Bank Notes</i>, Mr. Davies Giddy, I had never seen him before. +He called to my mind one of those venerable persons, who administer +spiritual comfort to the sinners of the “sister-kingdom;” and, whether I +looked at the dress or the person, I could almost have sworn that it was +the identical <i>Father Luke</i>, that I saw about twenty-three years ago, at +Philadelphia, in the farce of the Poor Soldier. Mr. Blackman (of Lewes I +believe) disapproved of the petition, and, in a speech of considerable +length, and also of considerable ability, stated to the meeting that the +evils complained of arose from the <i>currency</i>, and not from the +<i>importation of foreign corn</i>. A Mr. <span class="smcap">Donavon</span>, an Irish gentleman, who, +it seems, is a magistrate in this “disturbed county,” disapproved of +discussing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>anything at such a meeting, and thought that the meeting +should merely state its distresses, and leave it to the wisdom of +Parliament to discover the remedy. Upon which Mr. Chatfield observed: +“So, Sir, we are in a trap. We cannot get ourselves out though we know +the way. There are others, who have got us in, and are able to get us +out, but they do not know how. And we are to tell them, it seems, that +we are in the trap; but are not to tell them the way to get us out. I +don’t like long speeches, Sir; but I like common sense.” This was neat +and pithy. Fifty professed orators could not, in a whole day, have +thrown so much ridicule on the speech of Mr. Donavon.—A Mr. Mabbott +proposed an amendment to include all classes of the community, and took +a hit at Mr. Curteis for his speech at Battle. Mr. Curteis defended +himself, and I thought very fairly. A Mr. Woodward, who said he was a +farmer, carried us back to the necessity of the war against France; and +told us of the horrors of plunder and murder and rape that the war had +prevented. This gentleman put an end to my patience, which Mr. Donavon +had put to an extremely severe test; and so I withdrew.—After I went +away Mr. Blackman proposed some resolutions, which were carried by a +great majority by show of hands. But, pieces of paper were then handed +about, for the voters to write their names on for and against the +petition. The greater part of the people were gone away by this time; +but, at any rate, there were more <i>signatures</i> for the petition than for +the resolutions. A farmer in Pennsylvania having a visitor, to whom he +was willing to show how well he treated his negroes as to food, bid the +fellows (who were at dinner) <i>to ask for a second or third cut of pork +if they had not enough</i>. Quite surprised at the novelty, but emboldened +by a repetition of the injunction, one of them did say, “Massa, I wants +another cut.” He had it; but as soon as the visitor was gone away, “D—n +you,” says the master, while he belaboured him with the “cowskin,” “I’ll +make you know <i>how to understand me</i> another time!” The signers of this +petition were in the dark while the show of hands was going on; but when +it came to <i>signing</i> they knew well <i>what Massa meant</i>! This is a +petition to be sure; but it is no more the petition of the farmers in +the Rapes of Lewes and Pevensey than it is the petition of the Mermaids +of Lapland.—There was a <i>dinner</i> after the meeting at the <i>Star-Inn</i>, +at which there occurred something rather curious regarding myself. When +at Battle, I had no intention of going to Lewes, till on the evening of +my arrival at Battle, a gentleman, who had heard of the before-mentioned +calumny, observed to me that I would do well not to go to Lewes. That +very observation, made me resolve to go. I went, as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> spectator, to the +meeting; and I left no one ignorant of the place where I was to be +found. I did not covet the noise of a dinner of from 200 to 300 persons, +and I did not intend to go to it; but, being pressed to go, I finally +went. After some previous common-place occurrences, Mr. Kemp, formerly a +member for Lewes, was called to the chair; and he having given as a +toast, “<i>the speedy discovery of a remedy for our distresses</i>,” Mr. +Ebenezer Johnstone, a gentleman of Lewes, whom I had never seen or heard +of until that day, but who, I understand, is a very opulent and most +respectable man, proposed <i>my health</i>, as that of a person likely to be +able to point out the wished-for remedy.—This was the signal for the +onset. Immediately upon the toast being given, a Mr. Hitchins, a farmer +of Seaford, duly prepared for the purpose, got upon the table, and, with +candle in one hand and <i>Register</i> in the other, read the following +garbled passage from my <i>Letter to Lord Egremont</i>.—“But, let us hear +what the younger Ellman said: ‘He had seen them employed in drawing +beach gravel, as had been already described. One of them, the leader, +worked with a bell about his neck.’ Oh! the envy of surrounding nations +and admiration of the world! Oh! what a ‘glorious Constitution!’ ‘Oh! +what a happy country! Impudent Radicals, to want to reform a Parliament, +under which men enjoy such blessings! On such a subject it is impossible +(under Six-Acts) to trust one’s pen! However, this I will say; that here +is much more than enough to make me rejoice in the ruin of the farmers; +and I do, with all my heart, thank God for it; <i>seeing, that it appears +absolutely necessary, that</i> the present race of them should be totally +broken up, in Sussex at any rate, <i>in order to put an end to this +cruelty and insolence towards the labourers, who are by far the greater +number and who are men, and a little better men too, than such employers +as these, who are, in fact, monsters in human shape</i>!’”</p> + +<p>I had not the Register by me, and could not detect the garbling. All the +words that I have put in Italics, this <span class="smcap">Hitchins</span> left out in the reading. +What sort of man he must be the public will easily judge.—No sooner had +Hitchins done, than up started Mr. Ingram, a farmer of Rottendean, who +was the second person in the drama (for all had been duly prepared), and +moved that I should be <i>put out of the room</i>! Some few of the Webb +Hallites, joined by about six or eight of the dark, dirty-faced, +half-whiskered, tax-eaters from Brighton (which is only eight miles off) +joined in this cry. I rose, that they might see the man that they had to +put out. Fortunately <i>for themselves</i>, not one of them attempted to +approach me. They were like the mice that resolved that a bell should be +put round the cat’s neck!—However,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> a considerable hubbub took place. +At last, however, the Chairman, Mr. Kemp, whose conduct was fair and +manly, having given my health, I proceeded to address the company in +substance as stated here below; and, it is curious enough, that even +those who, upon my health being given, had taken their hats and gone out +of the room (and amongst whom Mr. Ellman the younger was one) came back, +formed a crowd, and were just as silent and attentive as the rest of the +company!</p> + +<p>[NOTE, written at <i>Kensington, 13 Jan.</i>—I must here, before I insert +the speech, which has appeared in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, the Brighton +papers, and in most of the London papers, except the base sinking <i>Old +Times</i> and the brimstone-smelling <i>Tramper</i>, or <i>Traveller</i>, which is, I +well know, a mere tool in the hands of two snap-dragon Whig-Lawyers, +whose greediness and folly I have so often had to expose, and which +paper is maintained by a contrivance which I will amply expose in my +next; I must, before I insert this speech, remark, that Mr. Ellman the +younger has, to a gentleman whom I know to be incapable of falsehood, +disavowed the proceeding of Hitchins; on which I have to observe, that +the disavowal, to have any weight, must be public, or be made to me.</p> + +<p>As to the provocation that I have given the Ellmans, I am, upon +reflection, ready to confess that I may have laid on the lash without a +due regard to mercy. The fact is, that I have so long had the misfortune +to be compelled to keep a parcel of badger-hided fellows, like <span class="smcap">Scarlett</span>, +in order, that I am, like a drummer that has been used to flog old +offenders, become <i>heavy handed</i>. I ought to have considered the Ellmans +as <i>recruits</i> and to have suited my tickler to the tenderness of their +backs.—I hear that Mr. Ingram of Rottendean, who moved for my being +turned out of the room, and who looked so foolish when he had to turn +himself out, is an Officer of Yeomanry “<i>Gavaltry</i>.” A ploughman +spoiled! This man would, I dare say, have been a very good husbandman; +but the unnatural working of the paper-system has sublimated him out of +his senses. That greater Doctor, Mr. Peel, will bring him down +again.—Mr. Hitchins, I am told, after going away, came back, stood on +the landing-place (the door being open), and, while I was speaking, +exclaimed, “Oh! the fools! How they open their mouths! How they suck it +all in.”—Suck <i>what</i> in, Mr. Hitchins? Was it honey that dropped from +my lips? Was it flattery? Amongst other things, I said that I liked the +plain names of <i>farmer</i> and <i>husbandman</i> better than that of +<i>agriculturist</i>; and, the prospect I held out to them, was that of a +description to catch their applause?—But this Hitchins seems to be a +very silly person indeed.]</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>The following is a portion of the speech:—</p> + +<p>“The toast having been <i>opposed</i>, and that, too, in the extraordinary +manner we have witnessed, I will, at any rate, with your permission, +make a remark or two on that manner. If the person who has made the +opposition had been actuated by a spirit of fairness and justice, he +would not have confined himself to a detached sentence of the paper from +which he has read; but, would have taken the whole together; for, by +taking a particular sentence, and leaving out all the rest, what writing +is there that will not admit of a wicked interpretation? As to the +particular part which has been read, I should not, perhaps, if I had +seen it <i>in print</i>, and had had time to cool a little [it was in a +Register sent from Norfolk], have sent it forth in terms so very general +as to embrace all the farmers of this county; but, as to those of them +who put <i>the bell round the labourer’s neck</i>, I beg leave to be now +repeating, in its severest sense, every word of the passage that has +been read.—Born in a farm-house, bred up at the plough-tail, with a +smock-frock on my back, taking great delight in all the pursuits of +farmers, liking their society, and having amongst them my most esteemed +friends, it is natural, that I should feel, and I do feel, uncommonly +anxious to prevent, as far as I am able, that total ruin which now +menaces them. But the labourer, was I to have no feeling for him? Was +not he my <i>countryman</i> too? And was I not to feel indignation against +those farmers, who had had the hard-heartedness to put the bell round +his neck, and thus wantonly insult and degrade the class to whose toils +they owed their own ease? The statement of the fact was not mine; I read +it in the newspaper as having come from Mr. Ellman the younger; he, in a +very laudable manner, expressed his <i>horror</i> at it; and was not I to +express <i>indignation</i> at what Mr. Ellman felt horror? That Gentleman and +Mr. Webb Hall may monopolize all the wisdom in matters of political +economy; but are they, or rather is Mr. Ellman alone, to engross all the +feeling too? [It was here denied that Mr. Ellman had said the bell had +been put on by <i>farmers</i>.] Very well, then, the complained of passage +has been productive of benefit to the farmers of this county; for, as +the thing stood in the newspapers, the natural and unavoidable inference +was, that that atrocious, that inhuman act, was an act of Sussex +farmers.”</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Brighton,<br />Thursday, 10 Jan., <ins class="correction" title="original: 1852">1822</ins>.</i></p> + +<p>Lewes is in a valley of the <i>South Downs</i>, this town is at eight miles’ +distance, to the south south-west or thereabouts. There is a great +extent of rich meadows above and below Lewes. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> town itself is a +model of solidity and neatness. The buildings all substantial to the +very out-skirts; the pavements good and complete; the shops nice and +clean; the people well-dressed; and, though last not least, the girls +remarkably pretty, as, indeed, they are in most parts of Sussex; round +faces, features small, little hands and wrists, plump arms, and bright +eyes. The Sussex men, too, are remarkable for their good looks. A Mr. +Baxter, a stationer at Lewes, showed me a <i>farmer’s account book</i> which +is a very complete thing of the kind. The Inns are good at Lewes, the +people civil and not servile, and the charges really (considering the +taxes) far below what one could reasonably expect.—From Lewes to +Brighton the road winds along between the hills of the South Downs, +which, in this mild weather, are mostly beautifully green even at this +season, with flocks of sheep feeding on them.—Brighton itself lies in a +valley cut across at one end by the sea, and its extension, or <i>Wen</i>, +has swelled up the sides of the hills and has run some distance up the +valley.—The first thing you see in approaching Brighton from Lewes is a +splendid <i>horse-barrack</i> on one side of the road, and a heap of low, +shabby, nasty houses, irregularly built, on the other side. This is +always the case where there is a barrack. How soon a Reformed Parliament +would make both disappear! Brighton is a very pleasant place. For a +<i>wen</i> remarkably so. The <i>Kremlin</i>, the very name of which has so long +been a subject of laughter all over the country, lies in the gorge of +the valley, and amongst the old houses of the town. The grounds, which +cannot, I think, exceed a couple or three acres, are surrounded by a +wall neither lofty nor good-looking. Above this rise some trees, bad in +sorts, stunted in growth, and dirty with smoke. As to the “palace” as +the Brighton newspapers call it, the apartments appear to be all upon +the ground floor; and, when you see the thing from a distance, you think +you see a parcel of <i>cradle-spits</i>, of various dimensions, sticking up +out of the mouths of so many enormous squat decanters. Take a square +box, the sides of which are three feet and a half, and the height a foot +and a half. Take a large Norfolk-turnip, cut off the green of the +leaves, leave the stalks 9 inches long, tie these round with a string +three inches from the top, and put the turnip on the middle of the top +of the box. Then take four turnips of half the size, treat them in the +same way, and put them on the corners of the box. Then take a +considerable number of bulbs of the crown-imperial, the narcissus, the +hyacinth, the tulip, the crocus, and others; let the leaves of each have +sprouted to about an inch, more or less according to the size of the +bulb; put all these, pretty promiscuously, but pretty thickly, on the +top of the box. Then stand off and look at your architecture.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> There! +That’s “<i>a Kremlin</i>”! Only you must cut some church-looking windows in +the sides of the box. As to what you ought to put <i>into</i> the box, that +is a subject far above my cut.—Brighton is naturally a place of resort +for <i>expectants</i>, and a shifty ugly-looking swarm is, of course, +assembled here. Some of the fellows, who had endeavoured to disturb our +harmony at the dinner at Lewes, were parading, amongst this swarm, on +the cliff. You may always know them by their lank jaws, the stiffeners +round their necks, their hidden or <i>no</i> shirts, their stays, their false +shoulders, hips, and haunches, their half-whiskers, and by their skins, +colour of veal kidney-suet, warmed a little, and then powdered with +dirty dust.—These vermin excepted, the people at Brighton make a very +fine figure. The trades-people are very nice in all their concerns. The +houses are excellent, built chiefly with a blue or purple brick; and +bow-windows appear to be the general taste. I can easily believe this to +be a very healthy place: the open downs on the one side and the open sea +on the other. No inlet, cove, or river; and, of course, no swamps.—I +have spent this evening very pleasantly in a company of reformers, who, +though plain tradesmen and mechanics, know I am quite satisfied, more +about the questions that agitate the country, than any equal number of +Lords.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington,<br />Friday, 11 January, 1822.</i></p> + +<p>Came home by the way of Cuckfield, Worth, and Red-Hill, instead of by +Uckfield, Grinstead and Godstone, and got into the same road again at +Croydon. The roads being nearly parallel lines and at no great distance +from each other, the soil is nearly the same, with the exception of the +fine oak country between Godstone and Grinstead, which does not go so +far westward as my homeward bound road, where the land, opposite the +spot just spoken of, becomes more of a moor than a clay, and though +there are oaks, they are not nearly so fine as those on the other road. +The tops are flatter; the side <i>shoots</i> are sometimes higher than the +middle shoot; a certain proof that the <i>tap-root</i> has met with something +that it does not like.—I see (Jan. 15) that Mr. Curteis has thought it +necessary to state in the public papers, that <i>he</i> had <i>nothing to do</i> +with my being at the dinner at Battle! Who the Devil thought he had? +Why, was it not an ordinary; and had I not as much right there as he? He +has said, too, that <i>he did not know</i> that I was to be at the dinner. +How should he? Why was it necessary to apprise him of it any more than +the porter of the inn? He has said, that he did not hear of any +deputation to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> invite me to the dinner, and, “<i>upon inquiry</i>,” cannot +find that there was any. Have I said that there was any invitation at +all? There was; but I have not said so. I went to the dinner for my +half-crown like another man, without knowing, or caring, who would be at +it. But, if Mr. Curteis thought it necessary to say so much, he might +have said a little more. He might have said, that he twice addressed +himself to me in a very peculiar manner, and that I never addressed +myself to him except in answer; and, if he had thought “<i>inquiry</i>” +necessary upon this subject also, he might have found that, though +always the first to speak or hold out the hand to a hard-fisted artisan +or labourer, I never did the same to a man of rank or riches in the +whole course of my life. Mr. Curteis might have said, too, that unless I +had gone to the dinner, the party would, according to appearances, have +been very <i>select</i>; that I found him at the head of one of the tables, +with less than thirty persons in the room; that the number swelled up to +about one hundred and thirty; that no person was at the other table; +that I took my seat at it; and that that table became almost immediately +crowded from one end to the other. To these Mr. Curteis, when his hand +was in, might have added, that he turned himself in his chair and +listened to my speech with the greatest attention; that he bade me, by +name, good night, when he retired; that he took not a man away with him; +and that the gentleman who was called on to replace him in the chair +(whose name I have forgotten) had got from his seat during the evening +to come and shake me by the hand. All these things Mr. Curteis might +have said; but the fact is, he has been bullied by the base newspapers, +and he has not been able to muster up courage to act the manly part, and +which, too, he would have found to be the <i>wise</i> part in the end. When +he gave the toast “<i>more money and less taxes</i>,” he turned himself +towards me, and said, “That is a toast that I am sure <i>you approve of</i>, +Mr. Cobbett.” To which I answered, “It would be made good, Sir, if +<i>members of Parliament would do their duty</i>.”—I appeal to all the +gentlemen present for the truth of what I say. Perhaps Mr. Curteis, in +his heart, did not like to give my health. If that was the case, he +ought to have left the chair, and retired. <i>Straight forward</i> is the +best course; and, see what difficulties Mr. Curteis has involved himself +in by not pursuing it! I have no doubt that he was agreeably surprised +when he saw and heard me. Why not <i>say</i> then: “After all that has been +said about Cobbett, he is a devilish pleasant, frank, and clever fellow, +at any rate.”—How much better this would have been, than to act the +part that Mr. Curteis has acted.——The Editors of the <i>Brighton +Chronicle and Lewes Express</i> have, out of mere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> modesty, I dare say, +fallen a little into Mr. Curteis’s strain. In closing their account (in +their paper of the 15th) of the Lewes Meeting, they say that I addressed +the company at some length, as reported in their Supplement published on +Thursday the 10th. And then they think it necessary to add: “For +<span class="smcaplc">OURSELVES</span>, we can say, that we never saw Mr. Cobbett until the meeting +at Battle.” Now, had it not been for pure maiden-like bashfulness, they +would, doubtless, have added, that when they did see me, they were +profuse in expressions of their gratitude to me for having merely <i>named +their paper</i> in my Register a thing, which, as I told them, I myself had +forgotten. When, too, they were speaking, in reference to a speech made +in the Hall, of “one of the finest specimens of oratory that has ever +been given in any assembly,” it was, without doubt, out of pure +compassion for the perverted taste of their Lewes readers, that they +suppressed the fact, that the agent of the paper at Lewes sent them +word, that it was useless for them to send any account of the meeting, +unless that account contained Mr. Cobbett’s speech; that he, the agent, +could have sold a hundred papers that morning, if they had contained Mr. +Cobbett’s speech; but could not sell one without it. I myself, by mere +accident, heard this message delivered to a third person by their agent +at Lewes. And, as I said before, it must have been pure tenderness +towards their readers that made the editors suppress a fact so injurious +to the reputation of those readers in point of <i>taste</i>! However, at +last, these editors seem to have triumphed over all feelings of this +sort; for, having printed off a placard, advertising their Supplement, +in which placard no mention was made of <i>me</i>, they, grown bold all of a +sudden, took a <i>painting brush</i>, and in large letters put into their +placard, “<i>Mr. Cobbett’s Speech at Lewes</i>;” so that, at a little +distance, the placard seemed to relate to nothing else; and there was +“the finest specimen of oratory” left to find its way into the world +under the auspices of my rustic harangue. Good God! What will this world +come to! We shall, by-and-bye, have to laugh at the workings of envy in +the very worms that we breed in our bodies!—The fast-sinking Old Times +news-paper, its cat-and-dog opponent the New Times, the Courier, and the +Whig-Lawyer Tramper, called the “Traveller;” the fellows who conduct +these vehicles; these wretched fellows, their very livers burning with +envy, have hasted to inform their readers, that “they have authority to +state that Lord Ashburnham and Mr. Fuller were not present at the dinner +at Battle where Cobbett’s health was drunk.” These fellows have now +“authority” to state, that there were no two men who dined at Battle, +that I should not prefer as companions to Lord Ashburnham and Mr. +Fuller, commonly called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> “Jack Fuller,” seeing that I am no admirer of +<i>lofty reserve</i>, and that, of all things on earth, I abhor a head like a +drum, all noise and emptiness. These scribes have also “authority” to +state, that they amuse me and the public too by declining rapidly in +their sale from their exclusion of my country lectures, which have only +begun. In addition to this The Tramper editor has “authority” to state, +that one of his papers of 5th Jan. has been sent to the Register-office +by post, with these words written on it: “This scoundrel paper has taken +no notice of Mr. Cobbett’s speech.” All these papers have “authority” to +state beforehand, that they will insert no account of what shall take +place, within these three or four weeks, at <i>Huntingdon</i>, at <i>Lynn</i>, at +<i>Chichester</i>, and other places where I intend to be. And, lastly, the +editors have full “authority” to state, that they may employ, without +let or molestation of any sort, either private or public, the price of +the last number that they shall sell in the purchase of hemp or +ratsbane, as the sure means of a happy deliverance from their present +state of torment.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>HUNTINGDON JOURNAL: THROUGH WARE AND ROYSTON, TO HUNTINGDON.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Royston,<br />Monday morning, 21st Jan., 1822.</i></p> + +<p>Came from London, yesterday noon, to this town on my way to Huntingdon. +My road was through Ware. Royston is just within the line (on the +Cambridgeshire side), which divides Hertfordshire from Cambridgeshire. +On this road, as on almost all the others going from it, the enormous +<i>Wen</i> has swelled out to the distance of about six or seven miles.—The +land till you come nearly to Ware which is in Hertfordshire, and which +is twenty-three miles from the <i>Wen</i>, is chiefly a strong and deep loam, +with the gravel a good distance from the surface. The land is good +wheat-land; but I observed only three fields of Swedish turnips in the +23 miles, and no wheat drilled. The wheat is sown on ridges of great +width here-and-there; sometimes on ridges of ten, at others on ridges of +seven, on those of five, four, three, and even two, feet wide. Yet the +bottom is manifestly not very wet generally; and that there is not a +bottom of clay is clear from the poor growth of the oak trees. All the +trees are shabby in this country; and the eye is incessantly offended by +the sight of <i>pollards</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> which are seldom suffered to disgrace even the +meanest lands in Hampshire or Sussex. As you approach Ware the bottom +becomes chalk of a dirtyish colour, and, in some parts, far below the +surface. After you quit Ware, which is a mere market town, the land +grows by degrees poorer; the chalk lies nearer and nearer to the +surface, till you come to the open common-fields within a few miles of +Royston. Along here the land is poor enough. It is not the stiff red +loam mixed with large blue-grey flints, lying upon the chalk, such as +you see in the north of Hampshire; but a whitish sort of clay, with +little yellow flattish stones amongst it; sure signs of a hungry soil. +Yet this land bears wheat sometimes.—Royston is at the foot of this +high poor land; or, rather in a dell, the open side of which looks +towards the North. It is a common market town. Not mean, but having +nothing of beauty about it; and having on it, on three of the sides out +of the four, those very ugly things, common-fields, which have all the +nakedness, without any of the smoothness, of Downs.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Huntingdon,<br />Tuesday morning, 22nd Jan., 1822.</i></p> + +<p>Immediately upon quitting Royston, you come along, for a considerable +distance, with enclosed fields on the left and open common-fields on the +right. Here the land is excellent. A dark, rich loam, free from stones, +on chalk beneath at a great distance. The land appears, for a mile or +two, to resemble that at and near Faversham in Kent, which I have before +noticed. The fields on the left seem to have been enclosed by Act of +Parliament; and they certainly are the most beautiful tract of <i>fields</i> +that I ever saw. Their extent may be from ten to thirty acres each. +Divided by quick-set hedges, exceedingly well planted and raised. The +whole tract is nearly a perfect level. The cultivation neat, and the +stubble heaps, such as remain out, giving a proof of great crops of +straw, while, on land with a chalk bottom, there is seldom any want of a +proportionate quantity of grain. Even here, however, I saw but few +Swedish turnips, and those not good. Nor did I see any wheat drilled; +and observed that, in many parts, the broad-cast sowing had been +performed in a most careless manner, especially at about three miles +from Royston, where some parts of the broad lands seemed to have had the +seed flung along them with a shovel, while other parts contained only +here and there a blade; or, at least, were so thinly supplied as to make +it almost doubtful whether they had not been wholly missed. In some +parts the middles only of the ridges were sown thickly. This is shocking +husbandry. A Norfolk or a Kentish farmer would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> have sowed a bushel and +a half of seed to the acre here, and would have had a far better plant +of wheat.—About four miles, I think it is, from Royston you come to the +estate of Lord Hardwicke. You see the house at the end of an avenue +about two miles long, which, however, wants the main thing, namely, fine +and lofty trees. The soil here begins to be a very stiff loam at top; +clay beneath for a considerable distance; and, in some places, beds of +yellow gravel with very large stones mixed in it. The land is generally +cold; a great deal of draining is wanted; and yet the bottom is such as +not to be favourable to the growth of the <i>oak</i>, of which sort I have +not seen one <i>handsome</i> tree since I left London. A grove, such as I saw +at Weston in Herefordshire, would, here, be a thing to attract the +attention of all ranks and all ages. What, then, would they say, on +beholding a wood of Oaks, Hickories, Chestnuts, Walnuts, Locusts, +Gum-trees, and Maples in America!—Lord Hardwicke’s avenue appears to be +lined with Elms chiefly. They are shabby. He might have had <i>ash</i>; for +the ash will grow <i>anywhere</i>; on sand, on gravel, on clay, on chalk, or +in swamps. It is surprising that those who planted these rows of trees +did not observe how well the ash grows here! In the hedge-rows, in the +plantations, everywhere the ash is fine. The ash is the <i>hardiest</i> of +all our large trees. Look at trees on any part of the sea coast. You +will see them all, even the firs, lean from the sea breeze, except the +ash. You will see the oak <i>shaved up</i> on the side of the breeze. But the +ash stands upright, as if in a warm woody dell. We have no tree that +attains a greater height than the ash; and certainly none that equals it +in beauty of leaf. It bears pruning better than any other tree. Its +timber is one of the most useful; and as underwood and fire-wood it far +exceeds all others of English growth. From the trees of an avenue like +that of Lord Hardwicke a hundred pounds worth of fuel might, if the +trees were ash, be cut every year in prunings necessary to preserve the +health and beauty of the trees. Yet, on this same land, has his lordship +planted many acres of larches and firs. These appear to have been +planted about twelve years. If instead of these he had planted ash, four +years from the seed bed and once removed; had cut them down within an +inch of the ground the second year after planting; and had planted them +at four feet apart, he would now have had about six thousand ash-poles, +on an average twelve feet long, on each acre of land in his plantation; +which, at three-halfpence each, would have been worth somewhere nearly +forty pounds an acre. He might now have cut the poles, leaving about 600 +to stand upon an acre to come to trees; and while these were growing to +timber, the underwood would, for poles, hoops, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>broom-sticks, spars, +rods, and faggots, have been worth twenty-five or thirty pounds an acre +every ten years. Can beggarly stuff, like larches and firs, ever be +profitable to this extent? Ash is timber, fit for the wheelwright, at +the age of twenty years, or less. What can you do with a rotten fir +thing at that age?——This estate of Lord Hardwicke appears to be very +large. There is a part which is, apparently, in his own hands, as, +indeed, the whole must soon be, unless he give up all idea of rent, or, +unless he can <i>choack off</i> the fundholder or get again afloat on the sea +of paper-money. In this part of his land there is a fine piece of +<i>Lucerne</i> in rows at about eighteen inches distant from each other. They +are now manuring it with <i>burnt-earth</i> mixed with some dung; and I see +several heaps of burnt-earth hereabouts. The directions for doing this +are contained in my <i>Year’s Residence</i>, as taught me by Mr. William +Gauntlet, of Winchester.—The land is, all along here, laid up in those +wide and high ridges, which I saw in Gloucestershire, going from +Gloucester to Oxford, as I have already mentioned. These ridges are +ploughed <i>back</i> or <i>down</i>; but they are ploughed up again for every +sowing.—At an Inn near Lord Hardwicke’s I saw the finest parcel of +dove-house pigeons I ever saw in my life.—Between this place and +Huntingdon is the village of Caxton, which very much resembles almost a +village of the same size in <i>Picardy</i>, where I saw the women dragging +harrows to harrow in the corn. Certainly this village resembles nothing +English, except some of the rascally rotten boroughs in Cornwall and +Devonshire, on which a just Providence seems to have entailed its curse. +The land just about here does seem to be really bad. The face of the +country is naked. The few scrubbed trees that now-and-then meet the eye, +and even the quick-sets, are covered with a yellow moss. All is bleak +and comfortless; and, just on the most dreary part of this most dreary +scene, stands almost opportunely, “<i>Caxton Gibbet</i>,” tendering its +friendly one arm to the passers-by. It has recently been fresh-painted, +and written on in conspicuous characters, for the benefit, I suppose, of +those who cannot exist under the thought of wheat at four shillings a +bushel.—Not far from this is a new house, which, the coachman says, +belongs to a Mr. Cheer, who, if report speaks truly, is not, however, +notwithstanding his name, guilty of the sin of making people either +drunkards or gluttons. Certainly the spot, on which he has built his +house, is one of the most ugly that I ever saw. Few spots have +everything that you could wish to find; but this, according to my +judgment, has everything that every man of ordinary taste would wish to +avoid.—The country changes but little till you get quite to Huntingdon. +The land is generally quite open, or in large fields. Strong, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>wheat-land, that wants a good deal of draining. Very few turnips of any +sort are raised; and, of course, few sheep and cattle kept. Few trees, +and those scrubbed. Few woods, and those small. Few hills, and those +hardly worthy of the name. All which, when we see them, make us cease to +wonder, that this country is so famous for <i>fox-hunting</i>. Such it has +doubtless been in all times, and to this circumstance Huntingdon, that +is to say, Huntingdun, or Huntingdown, unquestionably owes its name; +because <i>down</i> does not mean <i>unploughed</i> land, but open and +<i>unsheltered</i> land, and the Saxon word is <i>dun</i>.—When you come down +near to the town itself, the scene suddenly, totally, and most +agreeably, changes. The <i>River Ouse</i> separates Godmanchester from +Huntingdon, and there is, I think, no very great difference in the +population of the two. Both together do not make up a population of more +than about five thousand souls. Huntingdon is a slightly built town, +compared with Lewes, for instance. The houses are not in general so +high, nor made of such solid and costly materials. The shops are not so +large and their contents not so costly. There is not a show of so much +business and so much opulence. But Huntingdon is a very clean and nice +place, contains many elegant houses, and the environs are beautiful. +Above and below the bridge, under which the Ouse passes, are the most +beautiful, and by far the most beautiful, meadows that I ever saw in my +life. The meadows at Lewes, at Guildford, at Farnham, at Winchester, at +Salisbury, at Exeter, at Gloucester, at Hereford, and even at +Canterbury, are nothing, compared with those of Huntingdon in point of +beauty. Here are no reeds, here is no sedge, no unevennesses of any +sort. Here are <i>bowling-greens</i> of hundreds of acres in extent, with a +river winding through them, full to the brink. <i>One</i> of these meadows is +the <i>race-course</i>; and so pretty a spot, so level, so smooth, so green, +and of such an extent I never saw, and never expected to see. From the +bridge you look across the valleys, first to the West and then to the +East; the valleys terminate at the foot of rising ground, well set with +trees, from amongst which church spires raise their heads +here-and-there. I think it would be very difficult to find a more +delightful spot than this in the world. To my fancy (and every one to +his taste) the prospect from this bridge far surpasses that from +Richmond Hill.—All that I have yet seen of Huntingdon I like +exceedingly. It is one of those pretty, clean, unstenched, unconfined +places that tend to lengthen life and make it happy.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> +<h3>JOURNAL: HERTFORDSHIRE, AND BUCKINGHAMSHIRE: TO ST. ALBANS, THROUGH +EDGWARE, STANMORE, AND WATFORD, RETURNING BY REDBOURN, HEMPSTEAD, AND CHESHAM.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Saint Albans, June 19, 1822.</i></p> + +<p>From Kensington to this place, through Edgware, Stanmore, and Watford, +the crop is almost entirely hay, from fields of permanent grass, manured +by dung and other matter brought from the <i>Wen</i>. Near the Wen, where +they have had the <i>first haul</i> of the Irish and other perambulating +labourers, the hay is all in rick. Some miles further down it is nearly +all in. Towards Stanmore and Watford, a third, perhaps, of the grass +remains to be cut. It is curious to see how the thing regulates itself. +We saw, all the way down, squads of labourers, of different departments, +migrating from tract to tract; leaving the cleared fields behind them +and proceeding on towards the work to be yet performed; and then, as to +the classes of labourers, the <i>mowers</i>, with their scythes on their +shoulders, were in front, going on towards the standing crops, while the +<i>haymakers</i> were coming on behind towards the grass already cut or +cutting. The weather is fair and warm; so that the public-houses on the +road are pouring out their beer pretty fast, and are getting a good +share of the wages of these thirsty souls. It is an exchange of beer for +sweat; but the tax-eaters get, after all, the far greater part of the +sweat; for, if it were not for the tax, the beer would sell for +three-halfpence a pot instead of fivepence. Of this threepence-halfpenny +the Jews and Jobbers get about twopence-halfpenny. It is curious to +observe how the different labours are divided as to the <i>nations</i>. The +mowers are all <i>English</i>; the haymakers all <i>Irish</i>. Scotchmen toil hard +enough in Scotland; but when they go from home it is not to <i>work</i>, if +you please. They are found in gardens, and especially in gentlemen’s +gardens. Tying up flowers, picking dead leaves off exotics, peeping into +melon-frames, publishing the banns of marriage between the “<i>male</i>” and +“<i>female</i>” blossoms, tap-tap-tapping against a wall with a hammer that +weighs half an ounce. They have backs as straight and shoulders as +square as heroes of Waterloo; and who can blame them? The digging, the +mowing, the carrying of loads, all the break-back and sweat-extracting +work, they leave to be performed by those who have less <i>prudence</i> than +they have. The great purpose of human art, the great end of human study, +is to obtain <i>ease</i>, to throw the burden of labour from our own +shoulders, and fix it on those of others. The crop of hay is very large, +and that part which is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> in, is in very good order. We shall have hardly +any hay that is not fine and sweet; and we shall have it, carried to +London, at less, I dare say, than 3<i>l.</i> a load, that is 18 cwt. So that +here the <i>evil</i> of “<i>over-production</i>” will be great indeed! Whether we +shall have any projects for taking hay into <i>pawn</i> is more than any of +us can say; for, after what we have seen, need we be surprised if we +were to hear it proposed to take butter and even milk into pawn. In +after times, the mad projects of these days will become proverbial. The +Oracle and the over-production men will totally supplant the +<i>March-hare</i>.—This is, all along here, and especially as far as +Stanmore, a very dull and ugly country: flat, and all grass-fields and +elms. Few <i>birds</i> of any kind, and few <i>constant</i> labourers being +wanted; scarcely any cottages and gardens, which form one of the great +beauties of a country. Stanmore is on a hill; but it looks over a +country of little variety, though rich. What a difference between the +view here and those which carry the eye over the coppices, the +corn-fields, the hop-gardens and the orchards of Kent! It is miserable +land from Stanmore to Watford, where we get into Hertfordshire. Hence to +Saint Albans there is generally chalk at bottom with a red tenacious +loam at top, with flints, grey on the outside and dark blue within. +Wherever this is the soil, the wheat <ins class="correction" title="original: grews">grows</ins> well. The crops, and +especially that of the barley, are very fine and very forward. The +wheat, in general, does not appear to be a heavy crop; but the ears seem +as if they would be full from bottom to top; and we have had so much +heat, that the grain is pretty sure to be plump, let the weather, for +the rest of the summer, be what it may. The produce depends more on the +weather, previous to the coming out of the ear, than on the subsequent +weather. In the Northern parts of America, where they have, some years, +not heat enough to bring the Indian Corn to perfection, I have observed +that, if they have about fifteen days with the thermometer at <i>ninety</i>, +before the ear makes its appearance, the crop never fails, though the +weather may be ever so unfavourable afterwards. This allies with the old +remark of the country people in England, that “<i>May</i> makes or mars the +wheat;” for it is in May that the ear and the grains are <i>formed</i>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington,<br />June 24, 1822.</i></p> + +<p>Set out at four this morning for Redbourn, and then turned off to the +Westward to go to High Wycombe, through Hempstead and Chesham. The +<i>wheat</i> is good all the way. The barley and oats good enough till I came +to Hempstead. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> the land along here is very fine: a red tenacious +flinty loam upon a bed of chalk at a yard or two beneath, which, in my +opinion, is the very best <i>corn land</i> that we have in England. The +fields here, like those in the rich parts of Devonshire, will bear +perpetual grass. Any of them will become upland meadows. The land is, in +short, excellent, and it is a real corn-country. The <i>trees</i>, from +Redbourn to Hempstead are very fine; oaks, ashes, and beeches. Some of +the finest of each sort, and the very finest ashes I ever saw in my +life. They are in great numbers, and make the fields look most +beautiful. No villanous things of the <i>fir-tribe</i> offend the eye here. +The custom is in this part of Hertfordshire (and I am told it continues +into Bedfordshire) to leave a <i>border</i> round the ploughed part of the +fields to bear grass and to make hay from, so that, the grass being now +made into hay, every corn field has a closely mowed grass walk about ten +feet wide all round it, between the corn and the hedge. This is most +beautiful! The hedges are now full of the shepherd’s rose, honeysuckles, +and all sorts of wild flowers; so that you are upon a grass walk, with +this most beautiful of all flower gardens and shrubberies on your one +hand, and with the corn on the other. And thus you go from field to +field (on foot or on horseback), the sort of corn, the sort of underwood +and timber, the shape and size of the fields, the height of the +hedge-rows, the height of the trees, all continually varying. Talk of +<i>pleasure-grounds</i> indeed! What, that man ever invented, under the name +of pleasure-grounds, can equal these fields in Hertfordshire?—This is a +profitable system too; for the ground under hedges bears little corn, +and it bears very good grass. Something, however, depends on the nature +of the soil: for it is not all land that will bear grass, fit for hay, +perpetually; and, when the land will not do that, these headlands would +only be a harbour for weeds and couch-grass, the seeds of which would +fill the fields with their mischievous race.—Mr. <span class="smcap">Tull</span> has observed upon +the great use of headlands.—It is curious enough, that these headlands +cease soon after you get into Buckinghamshire. At first you see +now-and-then a field <i>without</i> a grass headland; then it comes to +now-and-then a field <i>with</i> one; and, at the end of five or six miles, +they wholly cease. Hempstead is a very pretty town, with beautiful +environs, and there is a canal that comes near it, and that goes on to +London. It lies at the foot of a hill. It is clean, substantially built, +and a very pretty place altogether. Between Hempstead and Chesham the +land is not so good. I came into Buckinghamshire before I got into the +latter place. Passed over two commons. But, still, the land is not bad. +It is drier; nearer the chalk, and not so red. The wheat continues good, +though not heavy; but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> barley, on the land that is not very good, is +light, begins to look <i>blue</i>, and the backward oats are very short. On +the still thinner lands the barley and oats must be a very short +crop.—People do not sow <i>turnips</i>, the ground is so dry, and, I should +think, that the <i>Swede-crop</i> will be very short; for <i>Swedes</i> ought to +be <i>up</i> at least by this time. If I had Swedes to sow, I would sow them +now, and upon ground very deeply and finely broken. I would sow directly +after the plough, not being half an hour behind it, and would roll the +ground as hard as possible. I am sure the plants would come up, even +without rain. And, the moment the rain came, they would grow +famously.—Chesham is a nice little town, lying in a deep and narrow +valley, with a stream of water running through it. All along the country +that I have come the labourers’ dwellings are good. They are made of +what they call <i>brick-nog</i>; that is to say, a frame of wood, and a +single brick thick, filling up the vacancies between the timber. They +are generally covered with tile. Not <i>pretty</i> by any means; but they are +good; and you see here, as in Kent, Susses, Surrey, and Hampshire, and, +indeed, in almost every part of England, that most interesting of all +objects, that which is such an honour to England, and that which +distinguishes it from all the rest of the world, namely, those <i>neatly +kept and productive little gardens round the labourers’ houses</i>, which +are seldom unornamented with more or less of flowers. We have only to +look at these to know what sort of people English labourers are: these +gardens are the answer to the <i>Malthuses</i> and the <i>Scarletts</i>. Shut your +mouths, you Scotch Economists; cease bawling, Mr. Brougham, and you +Edinburgh Reviewers, till <i>you</i> can show us something, not <i>like</i>, but +approaching towards a likeness of <i>this</i>!</p> + +<p>The orchards all along this country are by no means bad. Not like those +of Herefordshire and the north of Kent; but a great deal better than in +many other parts of the kingdom. The cherry-trees are pretty abundant +and particularly good. There are not many of the <i>merries</i>, as they call +them in Kent and Hampshire; that is to say, the little black cherry, the +name of which is a corruption from the French, <i>merise</i>, in the +singular, and <i>merises</i> in the plural. I saw the little boys, in many +places, set to keep the birds off the cherries, which reminded me of the +time when I followed the same occupation, and also of the toll that I +used to take in payment. The children are all along here, I mean the +little children, locked out of the doors, while the fathers and mothers +are at work in the fields. I saw many little groups of this sort; and +this is one advantage of having plenty of room on the outside of a +house. I never saw the country children better clad, or look cleaner and +fatter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> than they look here, and I have the very great pleasure to add, +that I do not think I saw three acres of <i>potatoes</i> in this whole tract +of fine country, from St. Albans to Redbourn, from Redbourn to +Hempstead, and from Hempstead to Chesham. In all the houses where I have +been, they use the roasted rye instead of coffee or tea, and I saw one +gentleman who had sown a piece of rye (a grain not common in this part +of the country) for the express purpose. It costs about three farthings +a pound, roasted and ground into powder.—The pay of the labourers +varies from eight to twelve shillings a-week. Grass mowers get two +<ins class="correction" title="original: shillings-day">shillings a-day</ins>, two quarts of what they call strong beer, and as much +small beer as they can drink. After quitting Chesham, I passed through a +wood, resembling, as nearly as possible, the woods in the more +cultivated parts of Long Island, with these exceptions, that there the +woods consist of a great variety of trees, and of more beautiful +foliage. Here there are only two sorts of trees, beech and oak: but the +wood at bottom was precisely like an American wood: none of that stuff +which we generally call underwood: the trees standing very thick in some +places: the shade so complete as never to permit herbage below: no +bushes of any sort; and nothing to impede your steps but little +spindling trees here and there grown up from the seed. The trees here +are as lofty, too, as they generally are in the Long Island woods, and +as straight, except in cases where you find clumps of the tulip-tree, +which sometimes go much above a hundred feet high as straight as a line. +The oaks seem here to vie with the beeches, in size as well as in +loftiness and straightness. I saw several oaks which I think were more +than eighty feet high, and several with a clear stem of more than forty +feet, being pretty nearly as far through at that distance from the +ground as at bottom; and I think I saw more than one, with a clear stem +of fifty feet, a foot and a half through at that distance from the +ground. This is by far the finest <i>plank oak</i> that I ever saw in +England. The road through the wood is winding and brings you out at the +corner of a field, lying sloping to the south, three sides of it +bordered by wood and the field planted as an orchard. This is precisely +what you see in so many thousands of places in America. I had passed +through Hempstead a little while before, which certainly gave its name +to the Township in which I lived in Long Island, and which I used to +write <i>Hampstead</i>, contrary to the orthography of the place, never +having heard of such a place as <i>Hempstead</i> in England. Passing through +Hempstead I gave my mind a toss back to Long Island, and this beautiful +wood and orchard really made me almost conceit that I was there, and +gave rise to a thousand interesting and pleasant reflections. On +quitting the wood I crossed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> great road from London to Wendover, +went across the park of Mr. Drake, and up a steep hill towards the great +road leading to Wycombe. Mr. Drake’s is a very beautiful place, and has +a great deal of very fine timber upon it. I think I counted pretty +nearly 200 oak trees, worth, on an average, five pounds a-piece, growing +within twenty yards of the road that I was going along. Mr. Drake has +some thousands of these, I dare say, besides his beech; and, therefore, +<i>he</i> will be able to stand a tug with the fundholders for some time. +When I got to High Wycombe, I found everything a week earlier than in +the rich part of Hertfordshire. High Wycombe, as if the name was +ironical, lies along the bottom of a narrow and deep valley, the hills +on each side being very steep indeed. The valley runs somewhere about +from east to west, and the wheat on the hills facing the south will, if +this weather continue, be fit to reap in ten days. I saw one field of +oats that a bold farmer would cut next Monday. Wycombe is a very fine +and very clean market town; the people all looking extremely well; the +girls somewhat larger featured and larger boned than those in Sussex, +and not so fresh-coloured and bright-eyed. More like the girls of +America, and that is saying quite as much as any reasonable woman can +expect or wish for. The Hills on the south side of Wycombe form a park +and estate now the property of Smith, who was a banker or stocking-maker +at Nottingham, who was made a Lord in the time of Pitt, and who +purchased this estate of the late Marquis of Landsdowne, one of whose +titles is Baron Wycombe. Wycombe is one of those famous things called +Boroughs, and 34 votes in this Borough send Sir John Dashwood and Sir +Thomas Baring to the “collective wisdom.” The landlord where I put up +“<i>remembered</i>” the name of Dashwood, but had “<i>forgotten</i>” who the +“<i>other</i>” was! There would be no forgettings of this sort, if these +thirty-four, together with <i>their</i> representatives, were called upon to +pay the share of the National Debt due from High Wycombe. Between High +Wycombe and Beaconsfield, where the soil is much about that last +described, the wheat continued to be equally early with that about +Wycombe. As I approached Uxbridge I got off the chalk upon a gravelly +bottom, and then from Uxbridge to Shepherd’s Bush on a bottom of clay. +Grass-fields and elm-trees, with here and there a wheat or a bean-field, +form the features of this most ugly country, which would have been +perfectly unbearable after quitting the neighbourhoods of Hempstead, +Chesham and High Wycombe, had it not been for the diversion I derived +from meeting, in all the various modes of conveyance, the cockneys going +to <i>Ealing Fair</i>, which is one of those things which nature herself +would almost seem to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> provided for drawing off the matter and +giving occasional relief to the overcharged <i>Wen</i>. I have traversed +to-day what I think may be called an average of England as to +corn-crops. Some of the best, certainly; and pretty nearly some of the +worst. My observation as to the wheat is, that it will be a fair and +average crop, and extremely early; because, though it is not a heavy +crop, though the ears are not long they will be full; and the earliness +seems to preclude the possibility of blight, and to ensure plump grain. +The barley and oats must, upon an average, be a light crop. The peas a +light crop; and as to beans, unless there have been rains where beans +are mostly grown, they cannot be half a crop; for they will not endure +heat. I tried masagan beans in Long Island, and could not get them to +bear more than a pod or two upon a stem. Beans love cold land and shade. +The earliness of the harvest (for early it must be) is always a clear +advantage. This fine summer, though it may not lead to a good crop of +turnips, has already put safe into store such a crop of hay as I believe +England never saw before. Looking out of the window, I see the harness +of the Wiltshire wagon-horses (at this moment going by) covered with the +chalk-dust of that county; so that the fine weather continues in the +West. The saint-foin hay has all been got in, in the chalk countries, +without a drop of wet; and when that is the case, the farmers stand in +no need of oats. The grass crops have been large everywhere, as well as +got in in good order. The fallows must be in excellent order. It must be +a sloven indeed that will sow his wheat in foul ground next autumn; and +the sun, where the fallows have been well stirred, will have done more +to enrich the land than all the dung-carts and all the other means +employed by the hand of man. Such a summer is a great blessing; and the +only draw-back is, the dismal apprehension of not seeing such another +for many years to come. It is favourable for poultry, for colts, for +calves, for lambs, for young animals of all descriptions, not excepting +the game. The partridges will be very early. They are now getting into +the roads with their young ones, to roll in the dust. The first broods +of partridges in England are very frequently killed by the wet and cold; +and this is one reason why the game is not so plenty here as it is in +countries more blest with sun. This will not be the case this year; and, +in short, this is one of the finest years that I ever knew.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Wm. COBBETT.</span></p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h3>RURAL RIDE, OF 104 MILES, FROM KENSINGTON TO UPHUSBAND; INCLUDING A +RUSTIC HARANGUE AT WINCHESTER, AT A DINNER WITH THE FARMERS, ON THE 28TH SEPTEMBER.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Chilworth, near Guildford, Surrey,<br />Wednesday, 25th Sept., 1822.</i></p> + +<p>This morning I set off, in rather a drizzling rain, from Kensington, on +horseback, accompanied by my son, with an intention of going to +Uphusband, near Andover, which is situated in the North West corner of +Hampshire. It is very true that I could have gone to Uphusband by +travelling only about 66 miles, and in the space of about eight hours. +But my object was not to see inns and turnpike-roads, but to see the +<i>country</i>; to see the farmers at home, and to see the labourers in the +fields; and to do this you must go either on foot or on horse-back. With +a gig you cannot get about amongst bye-lanes and across fields, through +bridle-ways and hunting-gates; and to <i>tramp it</i> is too slow, leaving +the labour out of the question, and that is not a trifle.</p> + +<p>We went through the turnpike-gate at Kensington, and immediately turned +down the lane to our left, proceeded on to Fulham, crossed Putney bridge +into Surrey, went over Barnes Common, and then, going on the upper side +of Richmond, got again into Middlesex by crossing Richmond bridge. All +Middlesex is <i>ugly</i>, notwithstanding the millions upon millions which it +is continually sucking up from the rest of the kingdom; and, though the +Thames and its meadows now-and-then are seen from the road, the country +is not less ugly from Richmond to Chertsey bridge, through Twickenham, +Hampton, Sunbury, and Sheperton, than it is elsewhere. The soil is a +gravel at bottom with a black loam at top near the Thames; further back +it is a sort of spewy gravel; and the buildings consist generally of +tax-eaters’ showy, tea-garden-like boxes, and of shabby dwellings of +labouring people who, in this part of the country, look to be about half +<i>Saint Giles’s</i>: dirty, and have every appearance of drinking gin.</p> + +<p>At Chertsey, where we came into Surrey again, there was a Fair for +horses, cattle, and pigs. I did not see any sheep. Everything was +exceedingly <i>dull</i>. Cart colts, two and three years old, were selling +for <i>less than a third</i> of what they sold for in 1813. The cattle were +of an inferior description to be sure; but the price was low almost +beyond belief. Cows, which would have sold for 15<i>l.</i> in 1813, did not +get buyers at 3<i>l.</i> I had no time to inquire much about the pigs, but a +man told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> me that they were dirt-cheap. Near Chertsey is <i>Saint Anne’s +Hill</i> and some other pretty spots. Upon being shown this hill I was put +in mind of Mr. Fox; and that brought into my head a grant that he +obtained of <i>Crown lands</i> in this neighbourhood, in, I think, 1806. The +Duke of York obtained, by Act of Parliament, a much larger grant of +these lands, at Oatlands, in 1804, I think it was. But this was natural +enough; this is what would surprise nobody. Mr. Fox’s was another +affair; and especially when taken into view with what I am now going to +relate. In 1804 or 1805, Fordyce, the late Duchess of Gordon’s brother, +was Collector General (or had been) of taxes in Scotland, and owed a +large arrear to the public. He was also Surveyor of Crown lands. The +then Opposition were for hauling him up. Pitt was again in power. Mr. +Creevey was to bring forward the motion in the House of Commons, and Mr. +Fox was to support it, and had actually spoken once or twice, in a +preliminary way on the subject. Notice of the motion was regularly +given; it was put off from time to time, and, at last, <i>dropped</i>, Mr. +Fox <i>declining</i> to support it. I have no books at hand; but the affair +will be found recorded in the Register. It was not owing to Mr. Creevey +that the thing did not come on. I remember well that it was owing to Mr. +Fox. Other motives were stated; and those others might be the real +motives; but, at any rate, the next year, or the year after, Mr. Fox got +transferred to him a part of that estate, which belongs to the <i>public</i>, +and which was once so great, called the <i>Crown lands</i>; and of these +lands Fordyce long had been, and then was, the Surveyor. Such are the +facts: let the reader reason upon them and draw the conclusion.</p> + +<p>This county of Surrey presents to the eye of the traveller a greater +contrast than any other county in England. It has some of the very best +and some of the worst lands, not only in England, but in the world. We +were here upon those of the latter description. For five miles on the +road towards Guildford the land is a rascally common covered with poor +heath, except where the gravel is so near the top as not to suffer even +the heath to grow. Here we entered the enclosed lands, which have the +gravel at bottom, but a nice light, black mould at top; in which the +trees grow very well. Through bye-lanes and bridle-ways we came out into +the London road, between Ripley and Guildford, and immediately crossing +that road, came on towards a village called Merrow. We came out into the +road just mentioned, at the lodge-gates of a Mr. Weston, whose mansion +and estate have just passed (as to occupancy) into the hands of some new +man. At Merrow, where we came into the Epsom road, we found that Mr. +Webb Weston, whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> mansion and park are a little further on towards +London, had just walked out, and left it in possession of another new +man. This gentleman told us, last year, at the <i>Epsom Meeting</i>, that he +was <i>losing his income</i>; and I told him <i>how it was</i> that he was losing +it! He is said to be a very worthy man; very much respected; a very good +landlord; but, I dare say, he is one of those who approved of yeomanry +cavalry to keep down the “Jacobins and Levellers;” but who, in fact, as +I always told men of this description, have <i>put down</i> themselves and +their landlords; for without them this thing never could have been done. +To ascribe the whole to <i>contrivance</i> would be to give to Pitt and his +followers too much credit for profundity; but if the knaves who +assembled at the Crown and Anchor in the Strand, in 1793, to put down, +by the means of prosecutions and spies, those whom they called +“Republicans and Levellers;” if these knaves had said, “Let us go to +work to induce the owners and occupiers of the land to convey their +estates and their capital into our hands,” and if the Government had +corresponded with them in views, the effect could not have been more +complete than it has, thus far, been. The yeomanry actually, as to the +effect, drew their swords to keep the reformers at bay, while the +tax-eaters were taking away the estates and the capital. It was the +sheep surrendering up the dogs into the hands of the wolves.</p> + +<p>Lord Onslow lives near Merrow. This is the man that was, for many years, +so famous as a driver of four-in-hand. He used to be called <i>Tommy +Onslow</i>. He has the character of being a very good landlord. I know he +called me “a d——d <i>Jacobin</i>” several years ago, only, I presume, +because I was labouring to preserve to him the means of still driving +four-in-hand, while he, and others like him, and their yeomanry cavalry, +were working as hard to defeat my wishes and endeavours. They say here, +that, some little time back, his Lordship, who has, at any rate, had the +courage to retrench in all sorts of ways, was at Guildford in a gig with +one horse, at the very moment, when Spicer, the Stock-broker, who was a +Chairman of the Committee for prosecuting Lord Cochrane, and who lives +at Esher, came rattling in with four horses and a couple of out-riders! +They relate an observation made by his Lordship, which may, or may not, +be true, and which therefore, I shall not repeat. But, my Lord, there is +another sort of courage; courage other than that of retrenching, that +would become you in the present emergency: I mean <i>political</i> courage, +and especially the courage of <i>acknowledging your errors</i>; confessing +that you were wrong when you called the reformers Jacobins and +levellers; the courage of now joining them in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> efforts to save +their country, to regain their freedom, and to preserve to you your +estate, which is to be preserved, you will observe, by no other means +than that of a Reform of the Parliament. It is now manifest, even to +fools, that it has been by the instrumentality of a base and fraudulent +paper-money that loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers and Jews have got the +estates into their hands. With what eagerness, in 1797, did the +nobility, gentry, and clergy rush forward to give their sanction and +their support to the system which then began, and which has finally +produced, what we now behold! They assembled in all the counties, and +put forth declarations that they would take the paper of the Bank, and +that they would support the system. Upon this occasion the county of +Surrey was the very first county; and on the list of signatures the very +<i>first</i> name was <i>Onslow</i>! There may be sales and conveyances; there may +be recoveries, deeds, and other parchments; but this was the real +transfer; this was the real signing away of the estates.</p> + +<p>To come to Chilworth, which lies on the south side of St. Martha’s Hill, +most people would have gone along the level road to Guildford and come +round through Shawford under the hills; but we, having seen enough of +streets and turnpikes, took across over Merrow Down, where the Guildford +race-course is, and then mounted the “Surrey Hills,” so famous for the +prospects they afford. Here we looked back over Middlesex, and into +Buckinghamshire and Berkshire, away towards the North-West, into Essex +and Kent towards the East, over part of Sussex to the South, and over +part of Hampshire to the West and South-West. We are here upon a bed of +chalk, where the downs always afford good sheep food. We steered for St. +Martha’s Chapel, and went round at the foot of the lofty hill on which +it stands. This brought us down the side of a steep hill, and along a +bridle-way, into the narrow and exquisitely beautiful vale of Chilworth, +where we were to stop for the night. This vale is skirted partly by +woodlands and partly by sides of hills tilled as corn fields. The land +is excellent, particularly towards the bottom. Even the arable fields +are in some places, towards their tops, nearly as steep as the roof of a +tiled house; and where the ground is covered with woods the ground is +still more steep. Down the middle of the vale there is a series of +ponds, or small <i>lakes</i>, which meet your eye, here and there, through +the trees. Here are some very fine farms, a little strip of meadows, +some hop-gardens, and the lakes have given rise to the establishment of +powder-mills and paper-mills. The trees of all sorts grow well here; and +coppices yield poles for the hop-gardens and wood to make charcoal for +the powder-mills.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>They are sowing wheat here, and the land, owing to the fine summer that +we have had, is in a very fine state. The rain, too, which, yesterday, +fell here in great abundance, has been just in time to make a really +good wheat-sowing season. The turnips, all the way that we have come, +are good. Rather backward in some places; but in sufficient quantity +upon the ground, and there is yet a good while for them to grow. All the +fall fruit is excellent, and in great abundance. The grapes are as good +as those raised under glass. The apples are much richer than in ordinary +years. The crop of hops has been very fine here, as well as everywhere +else. The crop not only large, but good in quality. They expect to get +<i>six</i> pounds a hundred for them at Weyhill fair. That is <i>one</i> more than +I think they will get. The best Sussex hops were selling in the Borough +of Southwark at three pounds a hundred a few days before I left London. +The Farnham hops <i>may</i> bring double that price; but that, I think, is as +much as they will; and this is ruin to the hop-planter. The <i>tax</i>, with +its attendant inconveniences, amounts to a pound a hundred; the picking, +drying, and bagging, to 50<i>s.</i> The carrying to market not less than +5<i>s.</i> Here is the sum of 3<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> of the money. Supposing the crop +to be half a ton to the acre, the bare tillage will be 10<i>s.</i> The poles +for an acre cannot cost less than 2<i>l.</i> a-year; that is another 4<i>s.</i> to +each hundred of hops. This brings the outgoings to 82<i>s.</i> Then comes the +manure, then come the poor-rates, and road-rates, and county rates; and +if these leave one single farthing for <i>rent</i> I think it is strange.</p> + +<p>I hear that Mr. Birkbeck is expected home from America! It is said that +he is coming to receive a large legacy; a thing not to be overlooked by +a person who lives in a country where he can have <i>land for nothing</i>! +The truth is, I believe, that there has lately died a gentleman, who has +bequeathed a part of his property to pay the creditors of a relation of +his who some years ago became a bankrupt, and one of whose creditors Mr. +Birkbeck was. What the amount may be I know not; but I have heard, that +the bankrupt had a <i>partner</i> at the time of the bankruptcy; so that +there must be a good deal of difficulty in settling the matter in an +equitable manner. The <i>Chancery</i> would drawl it out (supposing the +present system to continue) till, in all human probability, there would +not be as much left for Mr. Birkbeck as would be required to pay his way +back again to the Land of Promise. I hope he is coming here to remain +here. He is a very clever man, though he has been very abusive and very +unjust with regard to me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Lea, near Godalming, Surrey, Thursday, 26 Sept.</i></p> + +<p>We started from Chilworth this morning, came down the vale, left the +village of Shawford to our right, and that of Wonersh to our left, and +crossing the river Wey, got into the turnpike-road between Guildford and +Godalming, went on through Godalming, and got to Lea, which lies to the +north-east snugly under Hindhead, about 11 o’clock. This was coming only +about eight miles, a sort of rest after the 32 miles of the day before. +Coming along the road, a farmer overtook us, and as he had known me from +seeing me at the Meeting at Epsom last year, I had a part of my main +business to perform, namely, to talk politics. He was going to +<i>Haslemere</i> fair. Upon the mention of that sink-hole of a Borough, which +sends, “<i>as clearly as the sun at noonday</i>,” the celebrated Charles +Long, and the scarcely less celebrated Robert Ward, to the celebrated +House of Commons, we began to talk, as it were, spontaneously, about +Lord Lonsdale and the Lowthers. The farmer wondered why the Lowthers, +that were the owners of so many farms, should be for a system which was +so manifestly taking away the estates of the landlords and the capital +of the farmers, and giving them to Jews, loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers, +placemen, pensioners, sinecure people, and people of the “dead weight.” +But his wonder ceased; his eyes were opened; and “his heart seemed to +burn within him as I talked to him on the way,” when I explained to him +the nature of <i>Crown lands</i> and “<i>Crown tenants</i>,” and when I described +to him certain districts of property in Westmoreland and other parts. I +had not the book in my pocket, but my memory furnished me with quite a +sufficiency of matter to make him perceive that, in supporting the +present system, the Lowthers were by no means so foolish as he appeared +to think them. From the Lowthers I turned to Mr. Poyntz, who lives at +Midhurst in Sussex, and whose name as a “<i>Crown tenant</i>” I find in a +Report lately laid before the House of Commons, and the particulars of +which I will state another time for the information of the people of +Sussex. I used to wonder myself what made Mr. Poyntz call me a Jacobin. +I used to think that Mr. Poyntz must be a fool to support the present +system. What I have seen in that Report convinces me that Mr. Poyntz is +no fool, as far as relates to his own interest, at any rate. There is a +mine of wealth in these “<i>Crown lands</i>.” Here are farms, and manors, and +mines, and woods, and forests, and houses, and streets, incalculable in +value. What can be so proper as to apply this public property towards +the discharge of a part, at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> least, of that public debt, which is +hanging round the neck of this nation like a mill-stone? Mr. Ricardo +proposes to seize upon a part of the private property of every man, to +be given to the stock-jobbing race. At an act of injustice like this the +mind revolts. The foolishness of it, besides, is calculated to shock +one. But in the <i>public property</i> we see the suitable thing. And who can +possibly object to this, except those, who, amongst them, now divide the +possession or benefit of this property? I have once before mentioned, +but I will repeat it, that <i>Marlborough House</i> in Pall Mall, for which +the Prince of Saxe Coburg pays a rent to the Duke of Marlborough of +three thousand pounds a-year, is rented of this generous public by that +most Noble Duke at the rate of less than <i>forty pounds</i> a-year. There +are three houses in Pall Mall, the whole of which pay a rent <i>to the +public</i> of about fifteen pounds a-year, I think it is. I myself, +twenty-two years ago, paid three hundred pounds a-year for one of them, +to a man that I thought was the owner of them; but I now find that these +houses belong to the public. The Duke of Buckingham’s house in Pall +Mall, which is one of the grandest in all London, and which is not worth +less than seven or eight hundred pounds a-year, belongs to the public. +The Duke is the tenant; and I think he pays for it much less than twenty +pounds a-year. I speak from memory here all the way along; and therefore +not positively; I will, another time, state the particulars from the +books. The book that I am now referring to is also of a date of some +years back; but I will mention all the particulars another time. Talk of +<i>reducing rents</i>, indeed! Talk of <i>generous landlords</i>! It is the public +that is the generous landlord. It is the public that lets its houses and +manors and mines and farms at a cheap rate. It certainly would not be so +good a landlord if it had a Reformed Parliament to manage its affairs, +nor would it suffer so many snug <i>Corporations</i> to carry on their +snugglings in the manner that they do, and therefore it is obviously the +interest of the rich tenants of this poor public, as well as the +interest of the snugglers in Corporations, to prevent the poor public +from having such a Parliament.</p> + +<p>We got into free-quarter again at Lea; and there is nothing like +free-quarter, as soldiers well know. Lea is situated on the edge of that +immense heath which sweeps down from the summit of Hindhead across to +the north over innumerable hills of minor altitude and of an infinite +variety of shapes towards Farnham, to the north-east, towards the Hog’s +Back, leading from Farnham to Guildford, and to the east, or nearly so, +towards Godalming. Nevertheless, the enclosed lands at Lea are very good +and singularly beautiful. The timber of all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> sorts grows well; the land +is light, and being free from stones, very pleasant to work. If you go +southward from Lea about a mile you get down into what is called, in the +old Acts of Parliament, the <i>Weald</i> of Surrey. Here the land is a stiff +tenacious loam at top with blue and yellow clay beneath. This Weald +continues on eastward, and gets into Sussex near East Grinstead: thence +it winds about under the hills, into Kent. Here the oak grows finer than +in any part of England. The trees are more spiral in their form. They +grow much faster than upon any other land. Yet the timber must be +better; for, in some of the Acts of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, it is +provided, that the oak for the Royal Navy shall come out of the Wealds +of Surrey, Sussex, or Kent.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Odiham, Hampshire, Friday, 27 Sept.</i></p> + +<p>From Lea we set off this morning about six o’clock to get free-quarter +again at a worthy old friend’s at this nice little plain market-town. +Our direct road was right over the heath through Tilford to Farnham; but +we veered a little to the left after we came to Tilford, at which place +on the Green we stopped to look at an <i>oak tree</i>, which, when I was a +little boy, was but a very little tree, comparatively, and which is now, +take it altogether, by far the finest tree that I ever saw in my life. +The stem or shaft is short; that is to say, it is short before you come +to the first limbs; but it is full <i>thirty feet round</i>, at about eight +or ten feet from the ground. Out of the stem there come not less than +fifteen or sixteen limbs, many of which are from five to ten feet round, +and each of which would, in fact, be considered a decent stick of +timber. I am not judge enough of timber to say anything about the +quantity in the whole tree, but my son stepped the ground, and as nearly +as we could judge, the diameter of the extent of the branches was +upwards of ninety feet, which would make a circumference of about three +hundred feet. The tree is in full growth at this moment. There is a +little hole in one of the limbs; but with that exception, there appears +not the smallest sign of decay. The tree has made great shoots in all +parts of it this last summer and spring; and there are no appearances of +<i>white</i> upon the trunk, such as are regarded as the symptoms of full +growth. There are many sorts of oak in England; two very distinct; one +with a pale leaf, and one with a dark leaf: this is of the pale leaf. +The tree stands upon Tilford-green, the soil of which is a light loam +with a hard sand stone a good way beneath, and, probably, clay beneath +that. The spot where the tree stands is about a hundred and twenty feet +from the edge of a little river,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> and the ground on which it stands may +be about ten feet higher than the bed of that river.</p> + +<p>In quitting Tilford we came on to the land belonging to Waverly Abbey, +and then, instead of going on to the town of Farnham, veered away to the +left towards Wrecklesham, in order to cross the Farnham and Alton +turnpike-road, and to come on by the side of Crondall to Odiham. We went +a little out of the way to go to a place called the <i>Bourn</i>, which lies +in the heath at about a mile from Farnham. It is a winding narrow +valley, down which, during the wet season of the year, there runs a +stream beginning at the <i>Holt Forest</i>, and emptying itself into the +<i>Wey</i> just below Moor-Park, which was the seat of Sir William Temple +when Swift was residing with him. We went to this Bourn in order that I +might show my son the spot where I received the rudiments of my +education. There is a little hop-garden in which I used to work when +from eight to ten years old; from which I have scores of times run to +follow the hounds, leaving the hoe to do the best that it could to +destroy the weeds; but the most interesting thing was a <i>sand-hill</i>, +which goes from a part of the heath down to the rivulet. As a due +mixture of pleasure with toil, I, with two brothers, used occasionally +to <i>desport</i> ourselves, as the lawyers call it, at this sand-hill. Our +diversion was this: we used to go to the top of the hill, which was +steeper than the roof of a house; one used to draw his arms out of the +sleeves of his smock-frock, and lay himself down with his arms by his +sides; and then the others, one at head and the other at feet, sent him +rolling down the hill like a barrel or a log of wood. By the time he got +to the bottom, his hair, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, were all full of +this loose sand; then the others took their turn, and at every roll +there was a monstrous spell of laughter. I had often told my sons of +this while they were very little, and I now took one of them to see the +spot. But that was not all. This was the spot where I was receiving my +<i>education</i>; and this was the sort of education; and I am perfectly +satisfied that if I had not received such an education, or something +very much like it; that, if I had been brought up a milksop, with a +nursery-maid everlastingly at my heels, I should have been at this day +as great a fool, as inefficient a mortal, as any of those frivolous +idiots that are turned out from Winchester and Westminster Schools, or +from any of those dens of dunces called Colleges and Universities. It is +impossible to say how much I owe to that sand-hill; and I went to return +it my thanks for the ability which it probably gave me to be one of the +greatest terrors, to one of the greatest and most powerful bodies of +knaves and fools, that ever were permitted to afflict this or any other +country.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>From the Bourn we proceeded on to Wrecklesham, at the end of which we +crossed what is called the river Wey. Here we found a parcel of +labourers at parish-work. Amongst them was an old playmate of mine. The +account they gave of their situation was very dismal. The harvest was +over early. The hop-picking is now over; and now they are employed <i>by +the Parish</i>; that is to say, not absolutely digging holes one day and +filling them up the next; but at the expense of half-ruined farmers and +tradesmen and landlords, to break stones into very small pieces to make +nice smooth roads lest the jolting, in going along them, should create +bile in the stomachs of the overfed tax-eaters. I call upon mankind to +witness this scene; and to say, whether ever the like of this was heard +of before. It is a state of things, where all is out of order; where +self-preservation, that great law of nature, seems to be set at +defiance; for here are farmers <i>unable</i> to pay men for working for them, +and yet compelled to pay them for working in doing that which is really +of no use to any human being. There lie the hop-poles unstripped. You +see a hundred things in the neighbouring fields that want doing. The +fences are not nearly what they ought to be. The very meadows, to our +right and our left in crossing this little valley, would occupy these +men advantageously until the setting in of the frost; and here are they, +not, as I said before, actually digging holes one day and filling them +up the next; but, to all intents and purposes, as uselessly employed. Is +this Mr. Canning’s “<i>Sun of Prosperity</i>?” Is this the way to increase or +preserve a nation’s wealth? Is this a sign of wise legislation and of +good government? Does this thing “work well,” Mr. Canning? Does it prove +that we want no change? True, you were born under a Kingly Government; +and so was I as well as you; but I was not born under <i>Six-Acts</i>; nor +was I born under a state of things like this. I was not born under it, +and I do not wish to live under it; and, with God’s help, I will change +it if I can.</p> + +<p>We left these poor fellows, after having given them, not “religious +Tracts,” which would, if they could, make the labourer content with half +starvation, but something to get them some bread and cheese and beer, +being firmly convinced that it is the body that wants filling and not +the mind. However, in speaking of their low wages, I told them that the +farmers and hop-planters were as much objects of compassion as +themselves, which they acknowledged.</p> + +<p>We immediately, alter this, crossed the road, and went on towards +Crondall upon a soil that soon became stiff loam and flint at top with a +bed of chalk beneath. We did not go to Crondall; but kept along over +Slade Heath, and through a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> very pretty place called Well. We arrived at +Odiham about half after eleven, at the end of a beautiful ride of about +seventeen miles, in a very fine and pleasant day.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Winchester,<br />Saturday, 28th September.</i></p> + +<p>Just after daylight we started for this place. By the turnpike we could +have come through Basingstoke by turning off to the right, or through +Alton and Alresford by turning off to the left. Being naturally disposed +towards a middle course, we chose to wind down through Upton-Gray, +Preston-Candover, Chilton-Candover, Brown-Candover, then down to +Ovington, and into Winchester by the north entrance. From Wrecklesham to +Winchester we have come over roads and lanes of flint and chalk. The +weather being dry again, the ground under you, as solid as iron, makes a +great rattling with the horses’ feet. The country where the soil is +stiff loam upon chalk is never bad for corn. Not rich, but never poor. +There is at no time anything deserving to be called dirt in the roads. +The buildings last a long time, from the absence of fogs and also the +absence of humidity in the ground. The absence of dirt makes the people +habitually cleanly; and all along through this country the people appear +in general to be very neat. It is a country for sheep, which are always +sound and good upon this iron soil. The trees grow well, where there are +trees. The woods and coppices are not numerous; but they are good, +particularly the ash, which always grows well upon the chalk. The oaks, +though they do not grow in the spiral form, as upon the clays, are by no +means stunted; and some of them very fine trees; I take it that they +require a much greater number of years to bring them to perfection than +in the <i>Wealds</i>. The wood, perhaps, may be harder; but I have heard that +the oak, which grows upon these hard bottoms, is very frequently what +the carpenters call <i>shaky</i>. The underwoods here consist, almost +entirely, of hazle, which is very fine, and much tougher and more +durable than that which grows on soils with a moist bottom. This hazle +is a thing of great utility here. It furnishes rods wherewith to make +fences; but its principal use is, to make <i>wattles</i> for the folding of +sheep in the fields. These things are made much more neatly here than in +the south of Hampshire and in Sussex, or in any other part that I have +seen. Chalk is the favourite soil of the <i>yew-tree</i>; and at +Preston-Candover there is an avenue of yew-trees, probably a mile long, +each tree containing, as nearly as I can guess, from twelve to twenty +feet of timber, which, as the reader knows, implies a tree of +considerable size. They have probably been a century<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> or two in growing; +but, in any way that timber can be used, the timber of the yew will +last, perhaps, ten times as long as the timber of any other tree that we +grow in England.</p> + +<p>Quitting the Candovers, we came along between the two estates of the two +Barings. Sir Thomas, who has supplanted the Duke of Bedford, was to our +right, while Alexander, who has supplanted Lord Northington, was on our +left. The latter has enclosed, as a sort of outwork to his park, a +pretty little down called Northington Down, in which he has planted, +here and there, a clump of trees. But Mr. Baring, not reflecting that +woods are not like funds, to be made at a heat, has planted his trees +<i>too large</i>; so that they are covered with moss, are dying at the top, +and are literally growing downward instead of upward. In short, this +enclosure and plantation have totally destroyed the beauty of this part +of the estate. The down, which was before very beautiful, and formed a +sort of <i>glacis</i> up to the park pales, is now a marred, ragged, +ugly-looking thing. The dying trees, which have been planted long enough +for you not to perceive that they have been planted, excite the idea of +sterility in the soil. They do injustice to it; for, as a down, it was +excellent. Everything that has been done here is to the injury of the +estate, and discovers a most shocking want of taste in the projector. +Sir Thomas’s plantations, or, rather, those of his father, have been +managed more judiciously.</p> + +<p>I do not like to be a sort of spy in a man’s neighbourhood; but I will +tell Sir Thomas Baring what I have heard; and if he be a man of sense I +shall have his thanks, rather than his reproaches, for so doing. I may +have been misinformed; but this is what I have heard, that he, and also +Lady Baring, are very charitable; that they are very kind and +compassionate to their poor neighbours; but that they tack a sort of +condition to this charity; that they insist upon the objects of it +adopting their notions with regard to religion; or, at least, that where +the people are not what they deem <i>pious</i>, they are not objects of their +benevolence. I do not say, that they are not perfectly sincere +themselves, and that their wishes are not the best that can possibly be; +but of this I am very certain, that, by pursuing this principle of +action, where they make one good man or woman, they will make one +hundred hypocrites. It is not little books that can make a people good; +that can make them moral; that can restrain them from committing crimes. +I believe that books of any sort never yet had that tendency. Sir Thomas +does, I dare say, think me a very wicked man, since I aim at the +destruction of the funding system, and what he would call a robbery of +what he calls the public creditor; and yet, God help me, I have read +books enough, and amongst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> the rest, a great part of the religious +tracts. Amongst the labouring people, the first thing you have to look +after is, <i>common honesty</i>, <i>speaking the truth</i>, and <i>refraining from +thieving</i>; and to secure these, the labourer must have <i>his belly-full</i> +and be <i>free from fear</i>; and this belly-full must come to him from out +of his <i>wages</i>, and not from benevolence of any description. Such being +my opinion, I think Sir Thomas Baring would do better, that he would +discover more real benevolence, by using the influence which he must +naturally have in his neighbourhood, to prevent a diminution in the +wages of labour.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Winchester,<br />Sunday Morning, 29 Sept.</i></p> + +<p>Yesterday was market-day here. Everything cheap and falling instead of +rising. If it were <i>over-production</i> last year that produced the +<i>distress</i>, when are our miseries to have an end! They will end when +these men cease to have sway, and not before.</p> + +<p>I had not been in Winchester long before I heard something very +interesting about the <i>manifesto</i>, concerning the poor, which was lately +issued here, and upon which I remarked in my last Register but one, in +my Letter to Sir Thomas Baring. Proceeding upon the true military +principle, I looked out for free-quarter, which the reader will +naturally think difficult for <i>me</i> to find in a town containing a +<i>Cathedral</i>. Having done this, I went to the Swan Inn to dine with the +farmers. This is the manner that I like best of doing the thing. +<i>Six-Acts</i> do not, to be sure, prevent us from <i>dining</i> together. They +do not authorize Justices of the Peace to kill us, because we meet to +dine without their permission. But I do not like Dinner-Meetings on <i>my</i> +account. I like much better to go and fall in with the lads of the land, +or with anybody else, at their own places of resort; and I am going to +place myself down at Uphusband, in excellent free-quarter, in the midst +of all the great fairs of the West, in order, before the winter campaign +begins, that I may see as many farmers as possible, and that they may +hear my opinions, and I theirs. I shall be at Weyhill fair on the 10th +of October, and, perhaps, on some of the succeeding days; and, on one or +more of those days, I intend to dine at the White Hart, at Andover. What +other fairs or places I shall go to I shall notify hereafter. And this I +think the frankest and fairest way. I wish to see many people, and to +talk to them: and there are a great many people who wish to see and to +talk to me. What better reason can be given for a man’s going about the +country and dining at fairs and markets?</p> + +<p>At the dinner at Winchester we had a good number of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>opulent yeomen, and +many gentlemen joined us after the dinner. The state of the country was +well talked over; and, during the <i>session</i> (much more sensible than +some other <i>sessions</i> that I have had to remark on), I made the +following</p> + +<p class="center"><br /><i>RUSTIC HARANGUE.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—Though many here are, I am sure, glad to <i>see me</i>, I am not +vain enough to suppose that anything other than that of wishing to hear +my opinions on the prospects before us can have induced many to choose +to be here to dine with me to-day. I shall, before I sit down, propose +to you a <i>toast</i>, which you will drink, or not, as you choose: but I +shall state one particular wish in that shape, that it may be the more +distinctly understood, and the better remembered.</p> + +<p>The wish to which I allude relates to the <i>tithes</i>. Under that word I +mean to speak of all that mass of wealth which is vulgarly called +<i>Church property</i>: but which is, in fact, <i>public property</i>, and may, of +course, be disposed of as the Parliament shall please. There appears at +this moment an uncommon degree of anxiety on the part of the parsons to +see the farmers enabled to pay <i>rents</i>. The business of the parsons +being only with <i>tithes</i>, one naturally, at first sight, wonders why +they should care so much about <i>rents</i>. The fact is this: they see +clearly enough, that the landlords will never long go without rents, and +suffer them to enjoy the tithes. They see, too, that there must be a +struggle between the <i>land</i> and the <i>funds</i>: they see that there is such +a struggle. They see, that it is the taxes that are taking away the rent +of the landlord and the capital of the farmer. Yet the parsons are +afraid to see the taxes reduced. Why? Because, if the taxes be reduced +in any great degree (and nothing short of a great degree will give +relief), they see that the interest of the Debt cannot be paid; and they +know well, that the interest of the Debt can never be reduced, until +their tithes have been reduced. Thus, then, they find themselves in a +great difficulty. They wish the taxes to be kept up and rents to be paid +too. Both cannot be, unless some means or other be found out of putting +into, or keeping in, the farmer’s pocket, money that is not now there.</p> + +<p>The scheme that appears to have been fallen upon for this purpose is the +strangest in the world, and it must, if attempted to be put into +execution, produce something little short of open and general commotion; +namely, that of reducing the wages of labour to a mark so low as to make +the labourer a walking skeleton. Before I proceed further, it is right +that I communicate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> to you an explanation, which, not an hour ago, I +received from Mr. Poulter, relative to the <i>manifesto</i>, lately issued in +this town by a Bench of Magistrates of which that gentleman was +Chairman. I have not the honour to be personally acquainted with Mr. +Poulter, but certainly, if I had misunderstood the manifesto, it was +right that I should be, if possible, made to understand it. Mr. Poulter, +in company with another gentleman, came to me in this Inn, and said, +that the bench did not mean that their resolutions should have the +effect of <i>lowering the wages</i>: and that the sums, stated in the paper, +were sums to be given in the way of <i>relief</i>. We had not the paper +before us, and, as the paper contained a good deal about relief, I, in +recollection, confounded the two, and said, that I had understood the +paper agreeably to the explanation. But upon looking at the paper again, +I see, that, as to the <i>words</i>, there was a clear recommendation to make +the <i>wages</i> what is there stated. However, seeing that the Chairman +himself disavows this, we must conclude that the bench put forth words +not expressing their meaning. To this I must add, as connected with the +manifesto, that it is stated in that document, that such and such +justices were present, and a large and respectable number of yeomen who +had been invited to attend. Now, Gentlemen, I was, I must confess, +struck with this addition to the bench. These gentlemen have not been +accustomed to treat farmers with so much attention. It seemed odd, that +they should want a set of farmers to be present, to give a sort of +sanction to their acts. Since my arrival in Winchester, I have found, +however, that having them present was not all; for that the names of +some of these yeomen were actually inserted in the manuscript of the +manifesto, and that those names were expunged <i>at the request of the +parties named</i>. This is a very singular proceeding, then, altogether. It +presents to us a strong picture of the diffidence, or modesty (call it +which you please) of the justices; and it shows us, that the yeomen +present did not like to have <i>their names</i> standing as giving sanction +to the resolutions contained in the manifesto. Indeed, they knew well, +that those resolutions never could be acted upon. They knew that they +could not live in safety even in the same village with labourers, paid +at the rate of 3, 4, and 5 shillings a-week.</p> + +<p>To return, now, Gentlemen, to the scheme for squeezing rents out of the +bones of the labourer, is it not, upon the face of it, most monstrously +absurd, that this scheme should be resorted to, when the plain and easy +and just way of insuring rents must present itself to every eye, and can +be pursued by the Parliament whenever it choose? We hear loud outcries +against the poor-rates; the <i>enormous</i> poor-rates; the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span><i>all-devouring</i> +poor-rates; but what are the facts? Why, that, in Great Britain, <i>six +millions</i> are paid in poor-rates, <i>seven millions</i> (or thereabouts) in +<i>tithes</i>, and <i>sixty millions</i> to the fund-people, the army, placemen, +and the rest. And yet nothing of all this seems to be thought of but the +<i>six</i> millions. Surely the other and so much larger sums might to be +thought of. Even the <i>six</i> millions are, for the far greater part, +<i>wages</i> and not poor-rates. And yet all this outcry is made about these +<i>six</i> millions, while not a word is said about the other <i>sixty-seven</i> +millions.</p> + +<p>Gentlemen, to enumerate all the ways, in which the public money is +spent, would take me a week. I will mention two classes of persons who +are receivers of taxes: and you will then see with what <i>reason</i> it is, +that this outcry is set up against the poor-rates and against the amount +of wages. There is a thing called the <i>Dead Weight</i>. Incredible as it +may seem, that such a vulgar appellation should be used in such a way +and by such persons, it is a fact, that the Ministers have laid before +the Parliament an account, called the account of the <i>Dead Weight</i>. This +account tells how five millions three hundred thousand pounds are +distributed annually amongst half-pay officers, pensioners, retired +commissaries, clerks, and so forth, employed during the last war. If +there were nothing more entailed upon us by that war, this is pretty +smart-money. Now unjust, unnecessary as that war was, detestable as it +was in all its principles and objects, still, to every man, who really +did <i>fight</i>, or who performed a soldier’s duty abroad, I would give +<i>something</i>: he should not be left destitute. But, Gentlemen, is it +right for the nation to keep on paying for life crowds of young fellows +such as make up the greater part of this <i>dead weight</i>? This is not all, +however, for, there are the widows and the children, who have, and are +to have, <i>pensions too</i>. You seem surprised, and well you may; but this +is the fact. A young fellow who has a pension for life, aye, or an old +fellow either, will easily get a wife to enjoy it with him, and he will, +I’ll warrant him, take care that <i>she</i> shall not be <i>old</i>. So that here +is absolutely a premium for entering into the holy state of matrimony. +The husband, you will perceive, cannot prevent the wife from having the +pension after his death. She is <i>our widow</i>, in this respect, not his. +She marries, in fact, with a jointure settled on her. The more children +the husband leaves the better for the widow; for each child has a +pension for a certain number of years. The man, who, under such +circumstances, does not marry, must be a woman-hater. An old man +actually going into the grave, may, by the mere ceremony of marriage, +give any woman a pension for life. Even the widows and children of +insane officers are not excluded. If an officer, now insane,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> but at +large, were to marry, there is nothing, as the thing now stands, to +prevent his widow and children from having pensions. Were such things as +these ever before heard of in the world? Were such premiums ever before +given for breeding gentlemen and ladies, and that, too, while all sorts +of projects are on foot to check the breeding of the labouring classes? +Can such a thing <i>go on</i>? I say it cannot; and, if it could, it must +inevitably render this country the most contemptible upon the face of +the earth. And yet, not a word of complaint is heard about these five +millions and a quarter, expended in this way, while the country rings, +fairly resounds, with the outcry about the six millions that are given +to the labourers in the shape of poor-rates, but which, in fact, go, for +the greater part, to pay what ought to be called <i>wages</i>. Unless, then, +we speak out here; unless we call for redress here; unless we here seek +relief, we shall not only be totally ruined, but we shall <i>deserve it</i>.</p> + +<p>The other class of persons, to whom I have alluded, as having taxes +bestowed on them, are the <i>poor clergy</i>. Not of the <i>church</i> as by <i>law</i> +established, to be sure, you will say! Yes, Gentlemen, even to the poor +clergy of the established Church. We know well how <i>rich</i> that Church +is; we know well how many millions it annually receives; we know how +opulent are the bishops, how rich they die; how rich, in short, a body +it is. And yet <i>fifteen hundred thousand pounds</i> have, within the same +number of years, been given, out of the taxes, partly raised on the +labourers, for the relief of the <i>poor</i> clergy of that Church, while it +is notorious that the livings are given in numerous cases by twos and +threes to the same person, and while a clamour, enough to make the sky +ring, is made about what is given in the shape of <i>relief to the +labouring classes</i>! Why, Gentlemen, what do we want more than this one +fact? Does not this one fact sufficiently characterize the system under +which we live? Does not this prove that a change, a great change, is +wanted? Would it not be more natural to propose to get this money back +from the Church, than to squeeze so much out of the bones of the +labourers? This the Parliament can do if it pleases; and this it will +do, if you do your duty.</p> + +<p>Passing over several other topics, let me, Gentlemen, now come to what, +at the present moment, most nearly affects you; namely, the <i>prospect as +to prices</i>. In the first place, this depends upon whether Peel’s Bill +will be repealed. As this depends a good deal upon the Ministers, and as +I am convinced, that they know no more what to do in the present +emergency than the little boys and girls that are running up and down +the street before this house, it is impossible for me, or for any one, +to say what will be done in this respect. But my opinion is decided, +that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> the Bill will <i>not</i> be repealed. The Ministers see, that, if they +were <i>now</i> to go back to the paper, it would not be the paper of 1819; +but a paper never to be redeemed by gold; that it would be <i>assignats</i> +to all intents and purposes. That must of necessity cause the complete +overthrow of the Government in a very short time. If, therefore, the +Ministers see the thing in this light, it is impossible, that they +should think of a repeal of Peel’s Bill. There appeared, last winter, a +strong disposition to repeal the Bill; and I verily believe, that a +repeal in effect, though not in name, was actually in contemplation. A +Bill was brought in, which was described beforehand as intended to +prolong the issue of small notes, and also to prolong the time for +making Bank of England notes a legal tender. This would have been a +repealing of Peel’s Bill in great part. The Bill, when brought in, and +when passed, as it finally was, contained no clause relative to legal +tender; and without that clause it was perfectly nugatory. Let me +explain to you, Gentlemen, what this Bill really is. In the seventeenth +year of the late King’s reign, an act was passed for a time limited, to +prevent the issue of notes payable to bearer on demand, for any sums +less than five pounds. In the twenty-seventh year of the late King’s +reign, this Act was made <i>perpetual</i>; and the preamble of the Act sets +forth, that it is made perpetual, because the <i>preventing of small notes +being made has been proved to be for the good of the nation</i>. +Nevertheless, in just ten years afterwards; that is to say, in the year +one thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven, when the Bank stopped +payment, this salutary Act was <i>suspended</i>; indeed, it was absolutely +necessary, for there was no gold to pay with. It continued suspended +until 1819, when Mr. Peel’s Bill was passed, when a Bill was passed to +suspend it still further, until the year 1825. You will observe, then, +that, last winter there were yet three years to come, during which the +banks might make small notes if they would. Yet this new Bill was passed +last winter to authorize them to make small notes until the year 1833. +The measure was wholly uncalled for. It appeared to be altogether +unnecessary; but, as I have just said, the intention was to introduce +into this Bill a clause to continue the <i>legal tender</i> until 1833; and +that would, indeed, have made a great alteration in the state of things; +and, if extended to the Bank of England, would have been, in effect, a +complete repeal of Peel’s Bill.</p> + +<p>It was fully expected by the country bankers, that the legal tender +clause would have been inserted; but, before it came to the trial, the +Ministers gave way, and the clause was not inserted. The reason for +their giving way, I do verily believe, had its principal foundation in +their perceiving, that the public would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> clearly see, that such a +measure would make the paper-money merely assignats. The legal tender +not having been enacted, the Small-note Bill can do nothing towards +augmenting the quantity of circulating medium. As the law now stands, +Bank of England notes are, in effect, a <i>legal tender</i>. If I owe a debt +of twenty pounds, and tender Bank of England notes in payment, the law +says that you shall not arrest me; that you may bring your action, if +you like; that I may pay the notes into Court; that you may go on with +your action; that you shall pay all the costs, and I none. At last you +gain your action; you obtain judgment and execution, or whatever else +the everlasting law allows of. And what have you got then? Why the +<i>notes</i>; the same identical notes the Sheriff will bring you. You will +not take them. Go to law with the Sheriff then. He pays the <i>notes</i> into +Court. More costs for you to pay. And thus you go on; but without ever +touching or seeing gold!</p> + +<p>Now, Gentlemen, Peel’s Bill puts an end to all this pretty work on the +first day of next May. If you have a handful of a country banker’s rags +<i>now</i>, and go to him for payment, he will tender you Bank of England +notes; and if you like the paying of costs you may go to law for gold. +But when the first of next May comes, he must put gold into your hands +in exchange for your notes, if you choose it; or you may clap a +bailiff’s hand upon his shoulder: and if he choose to pay into Court, he +must pay in gold, and pay your costs also as far as you have gone.</p> + +<p>This makes a strange alteration in the thing! And everybody must see, +that the Bank of England, and the country bankers; that all, in short, +are preparing for the first of May. It is clear that there must be a +farther diminution of the paper-money. It is hard to say the precise +degree of effect that this will have upon prices; but that it must bring +them down is clear; and, for my own part, I am fully persuaded, that +they will come down to the standard of prices in France, be those prices +what they may. This, indeed, was acknowledged by Mr. Huskisson in the +Agricultural Report of 1821. That two countries so near together, both +having gold as a currency or standard, should differ very widely from +each other, in the prices of farm-produce, is next to impossible; and +therefore, when our legal tender shall be completely done away, to the +prices of France you must come; and those prices cannot, I think, in the +present state of Europe, much exceed three or four shillings a bushel +for good wheat.</p> + +<p>You know, as well as I do, that it is impossible, with the present taxes +and rates and tithes, to pay any rent at all with prices upon that +scale. Let loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers, Jews, and the whole tribe of +tax-eaters say what they will, you know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> that it is impossible, as you +also know it would be cruelly unjust to wring from the labourer the +means of paying rent, while those taxes and tithes remain. Something +must be taken off. The labourers’ wages have already been reduced as low +as possible. All public pay and salaries ought to be reduced; and the +tithes also ought to be reduced, as they might be to a great amount +without any injury to religion. The interest of the debt ought to be +largely reduced; but, as none of the others can, with any show of +justice, take place, without a reduction of the tithes, and as I am for +confining myself to one object at present, I will give you as a Toast, +leaving you to drink it or not, as you please, <i>A large Reduction of +Tithes</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>Somebody proposed to drink this Toast with <i>three times three</i>, which +was accordingly done, and the sound might have been heard down to the +close.—Upon some Gentleman giving <i>my health</i>, I took occasion to +remind the company that the last time I was at Winchester we had the +memorable fight with Lockhart “the Brave” and his sable friends. I +reminded them that it was in that same room that I told them that it +would not be long before Mr. Lockhart and those sable gentlemen would +become enlightened; and I observed that, if we were to judge from a +man’s language, there was not a land-owner in England that more keenly +felt than Mr. Lockhart the truth of those predictions which I had put +forth at the Castle on the day alluded to. I reminded the company that I +sailed for America in a few days after that meeting; that they must be +well aware that, on the day of the meeting, I knew that I was taking +leave of the country, but, I observed, that I had not been in the least +depressed by that circumstance; because I relied, with perfect +confidence, on being in this same place again, to enjoy, as I now did, a +triumph over my adversaries.</p> + +<p>After this, Mr. Hector gave a <i>Constitutional Reform in the Commons’ +House of Parliament</i>, which was drunk with great enthusiasm; and Mr. +Hector’s health having been given, he, in returning thanks, urged his +brother yeomen and freeholders to do their duty by coming forward in +county meeting and giving their support to those noblemen and gentlemen +that were willing to stand forward for a reform and for a reduction of +taxation. I held forth to them the example of the county of Kent, which +had done itself so much honour by its conduct last spring. What these +gentlemen in Hampshire will do it is not for me to say. If nothing be +done by them, they will certainly be ruined, and that ruin they will +certainly deserve.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> It was to the farmers that the Government owed its +strength to carry on the war. Having them with it, in consequence of a +false and bloated prosperity, it cared not a straw for anybody else. If +they, therefore, now do their duty; if they all, like the yeomen and +farmers of Kent, come boldly forward, everything will be done necessary +to preserve themselves and their country; and if they do not come +forward, they will, as men of property, be swept from the face of the +earth. The noblemen and gentlemen who are in Parliament, and who are +disposed to adopt measures of effectual relief, cannot move with any +hope of success unless backed by the yeomen and farmers, and the +middling classes throughout the country generally. I do not mean to +confine myself to yeomen and farmers, but to take in all tradesmen and +men of property. With these at their back, or rather, at the back of +these, there are men enough in both Houses of Parliament to propose and +to urge measures suitable to the exigency of the case. But without the +middling classes to <i>take the lead</i>, those noblemen and gentlemen can do +nothing. Even the Ministers themselves, if they were so disposed (and +they must be so disposed at last) could make none of the reforms that +are necessary, <i>without being actually urged on by the middle classes of +the community</i>. This is a very important consideration. A new man, as +Minister, might indeed propose the reforms himself; but these men, +Opposition as well as Ministry, are so <i>pledged</i> to the things that have +brought all this ruin upon the country, that they absolutely stand in +need of an overpowering call from the people to justify them in doing +that which they themselves may think just, and which they may know to be +necessary for the salvation of the country. They dare not take the lead +in the necessary reforms. It is too much to be expected of any men upon +the face of the earth, pledged and situated as these Ministers are; and +therefore, unless the people will do their duty, they will have +themselves, and only themselves, to thank for their ruin, and for that +load of disgrace, and for that insignificance worse than disgrace which +seems, after so many years of renown, to be attaching themselves to the +name of England.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Uphusband,<br />Sunday Evening, 29 Sept. 1822.</i></p> + +<p>We came along the turnpike-road, through Wherwell and Andover, and got +to this place about 2 o’clock. This country, except at the village and +town just mentioned, is very open, a thinnish soil upon a bed of chalk. +Between Winchester and Wherwell we came by some hundreds of acres of +ground that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> was formerly most beautiful down, which was broken up in +dear-corn times, and which is now a district of thistles and other +weeds. If I had such land as this I would soon make it down again. I +would for once (that is to say if I had the money) get it quite clean, +prepare it as for sowing turnips, get the turnips if possible, feed them +off early, or plough the ground if I got no turnips; sow thick with +Saint-foin and meadow-grass seeds of all sorts, early in September; let +the crop stand till the next July; feed it then slenderly with sheep, +and dig up all thistles and rank weeds that might appear; keep feeding +it, but not too close, during the summer and the fall; and keep on +feeding it for ever after as a down. The Saint-foin itself would last +for many years; and as it disappeared, its place would be supplied by +the grass; that sort which was most congenial to the soil, would at last +stifle all other sorts, and the land would become a valuable down as +formerly.</p> + +<p>I see that some plantations of ash and of hazle have been made along +here; but, with great submission to the planters, I think they have gone +the wrong way to work, as to the mode of preparing the ground. They have +planted <i>small trees</i>, and that is right; they have <i>trenched</i> the +ground, and that is also right; but they have brought the bottom soil to +the top; and that is <i>wrong</i>, always; and especially where the bottom +soil is gravel or chalk, or clay. I know that some people will say that +this is a <i>puff</i>; and let it pass for that; but if any gentleman that is +going to plant trees will look into my <i>Book on Gardening</i>, and into the +Chapter on <i>Preparing the Soil</i>, he will, I think, see how conveniently +ground may be trenched without bringing to the top that soil in which +the young trees stand so long without making shoots.</p> + +<p>This country, though so open, has its beauties. The homesteads in the +sheltered bottoms with fine lofty trees about the houses and yards form +a beautiful contrast with the large open fields. The little villages, +running straggling along the dells (always with lofty trees and +rookeries) are very interesting objects, even in the winter. You feel a +sort of satisfaction, when you are out upon the bleak hills yourself, at +the thought of the shelter which is experienced in the dwellings in the +valleys.</p> + +<p>Andover is a neat and solid market-town. It is supported entirely by the +agriculture around it; and how the makers of <i>population returns</i> ever +came to think of classing the inhabitants of such a town as this under +any other head than that of “<i>persons employed in agriculture</i>,” would +appear astonishing to any man who did not know those population return +makers as well as I do.</p> + +<p>The village of Uphusband, the legal name of which is <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>Hurstbourn +Tarrant, is, as the reader will recollect, a great favourite with me, +not the less so certainly on account of the excellent free-quarter that +it affords.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>THROUGH HAMPSHIRE, BERKSHIRE, SURREY, AND SUSSEX, BETWEEN 7th OCTOBER AND 1ST DECEMBER, 1822, 327 MILES.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>7th to 10th Oct. 1822.</i></p> + +<p>At Uphusband, a little village in a deep dale, about five miles to the +North of Andover, and about three miles to the South of the Hills at +<i>Highclere</i>. The wheat is sown here, and up, and, as usual, at this time +of the year, looks very beautiful. The wages of the labourers brought +down to <i>six shillings a week</i>! a horrible thing to think of; but, I +hear, it is still worse in Wiltshire.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>11th October.</i></p> + +<p>Went to Weyhill fair, at which I was about 46 years ago, when I rode a +little pony, and remember how proud I was on the occasion; but I also +remember that my brothers, two out of three of whom were older than I, +thought it unfair that my father selected me; and my own reflections +upon the occasion have never been forgotten by me. The 11th of October +is the Sheep-fair. About 300,000<i>l.</i> used, some few years ago, to be +carried home by the sheep-sellers. To-day, less, perhaps, than +70,000<i>l.</i>, and yet the <i>rents</i> of these sheep-sellers are, perhaps, as +high, on an average, as they were then. The countenances of the farmers +were descriptive of their ruinous state. I never, in all my life, beheld +a more mournful scene. There is a horse-fair upon another part of the +down; and there I saw horses keeping pace in depression with the sheep. +A pretty numerous group of the tax-eaters, from Andover and the +neighbourhood, were the only persons that had smiles on their faces. I +was struck with a young farmer trotting a horse backward and forward to +show him off to a couple of gentlemen, who were bargaining for the +horse, and one of whom finally purchased him. These <i>gentlemen</i> were two +of our “<i>dead-weight</i>,” and the horse was that on which the farmer had +pranced in the <i>Yeomanry Troop</i>! Here is a turn of things! Distress; +pressing distress; dread of the bailiffs alone could have made the +farmer sell his horse. If he had the firmness to keep the tears out of +his eyes, his heart must have paid the penalty. What,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> then, must have +been his feelings, if he reflected, as I did, that the purchase-money +for the horse had first gone from his pocket into that of the +<i>dead-weight</i>! And, further, that the horse had pranced about for years +for the purpose of subduing all opposition to those very measures, which +had finally dismounted the owner!</p> + +<p>From this dismal scene, a scene formerly so joyous, we set off back to +Uphusband pretty early, were overtaken by the rain, and got a pretty +good soaking. The land along here is very good. This whole country has a +chalk bottom; but, in the valley on the right of the hill over which you +go from Andover to Weyhill, the chalk lies far from the top, and the +soil has few flints in it. It is very much like the land about Malden +and Maidstone. Met with a farmer who said he must be ruined, unless +another “good war” should come! This is no uncommon notion. They saw +high prices <i>with</i> war, and they thought that the war was the <i>cause</i>.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>12 to 16 of October.</i></p> + +<p>The fair was too dismal for me to go to it again. My sons went two of +the days, and their account of the hop-fair was enough to make one +gloomy for a month, particularly as my townsmen of Farnham were, in this +case, amongst the sufferers. On the 12th I went to dine with and to +harangue the farmers at Andover. Great attention was paid to what I had +to say. The crowding to get into the room was a proof of nothing, +perhaps, but <i>curiosity</i>; but there must have been a <i>cause</i> for the +curiosity, and that cause would, under the present circumstances, be +matter for reflection with a wise government.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>17 October.</i></p> + +<p>Went to Newbury to dine with and to harangue the farmers. It was a +fair-day. It rained so hard that I had to stop at Burghclere to dry my +clothes, and to borrow a great coat to keep me dry for the rest of the +way; so as not to have to sit in wet clothes. At Newbury the company was +not less attentive or less numerous than at Andover. Some one of the +tax-eating crew had, I understand, called me an “incendiary.” The day is +passed for those tricks. They deceive no longer. Here, at Newbury, I +took occasion to notice the base accusation of <i>Dundas</i>, the Member for +the County. I stated it as something that I had heard of, and I was +proceeding to charge him conditionally, when Mr. Tubb of Shillingford +rose from his seat, and said, “I myself, Sir, heard him say the words.” +I had heard of his vile conduct long before; but I abstained from +charging him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> with it till an opportunity should offer for doing it in +his own country. After the dinner was over I went back to Burghclere.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>18 to 20 October.</i></p> + +<p>At Burghclere, one half the time writing, and the other half hare-hunting.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>21 October.</i></p> + +<p>Went back to Uphusband.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>22 October.</i></p> + +<p>Went to dine with the farmers at Salisbury, and got back to Uphusband by +ten o’clock at night, two hours later than I have been out of bed for a +great many months.</p> + +<p>In quitting Andover to go to Salisbury (17 miles from each other) you +cross the beautiful valley that goes winding down amongst the hills to +Stockbridge. You then rise into the open country that very soon becomes +a part of that large tract of downs, called Salisbury Plain. You are not +in Wiltshire, however, till you are about half the way to Salisbury. You +leave Tidworth away to your right. This is the seat of Asheton Smith; +and the fine <i>coursing</i> that I once saw there I should have called to +recollection with pleasure, if I could have forgotten the hanging of the +men at Winchester last Spring for resisting one of this Smith’s +game-keepers! This Smith’s son and a Sir John Pollen are the members for +Andover. They are chosen by the Corporation. One of the Corporation, an +Attorney, named Etwall, is a Commissioner of the Lottery, or something +in that way. It would be a curious thing to ascertain how large a +portion of the “public services” is performed by the voters in Boroughs +and their relations. These persons are singularly kind to the nation. +They not only choose a large part of the “representatives of the +people;” but they come in person, or by deputy, and perform a very +considerable part of the “<i>public services</i>.” I should like to know how +many of them are employed about the <i>Salt-Tax</i>, for instance. A list of +these public-spirited persons might be produced to show the <i>benefit</i> of +the Boroughs.</p> + +<p>Before you get to Salisbury, you cross the valley that brings down a +little river from Amesbury. It is a very beautiful valley. There is a +chain of farmhouses and little churches all the way up it. The farms +consist of the land on the flats on each side of the river, running out +to a greater or less extent, at different places, towards the hills and +downs. Not far above Amesbury is a little village called Netherhaven, +where I once saw an <i>acre of hares</i>. We were coursing at Everly, a few +miles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> off; and one of the party happening to say, that he had seen “an +acre of hares” at Mr. Hicks Beech’s at Netherhaven, we, who wanted to +see the same, or to detect our informant, sent a messenger to beg a +day’s coursing, which being granted, we went over the next day. Mr. +Beech received us very politely. He took us into a wheat stubble close +by his paddock; his son took a gallop round, cracking his whip at the +same time; the hares (which were very thickly in sight before) started +all over the field, ran into a <i>flock</i> like sheep; and we all agreed, +that the flock did cover <i>an acre of ground</i>. Mr. Beech had an old +greyhound, that I saw lying down in the shrubbery close by the house, +while several hares were sitting and skipping about, with just as much +confidence as cats sit by a dog in a kitchen or a parlour. Was this +<i>instinct</i> in either dog or hares? Then, mind, this same greyhound went +amongst the rest to course with us out upon the distant hills and lands; +and then he ran as eagerly as the rest, and killed the hares with as +little remorse. Philosophers will talk a long while before they will +make men believe, that this was <i>instinct alone</i>. I believe that this +dog had much more reason than half of the Cossacks have; and I am sure +he had a great deal more than many a Negro that I have seen.</p> + +<p>In crossing this valley to go to Salisbury, I thought of Mr. Beech’s +hares; but I really have neither thought of nor seen any <i>game</i> with +pleasure, since the hanging of the two men at Winchester. If no other +man will petition for the repeal of the law, under which those poor +fellows suffered, I will. But let us hope, that there will be no need of +petitioning. Let us hope, that it will be repealed without any express +application for it. It is curious enough that laws of this sort should +<i>increase</i>, while <i>Sir James Mackintosh</i> is so resolutely bent on +“<i>softening the criminal code</i>!” The company at Salisbury was very +numerous; not less than 500 farmers were present. They were very +attentive to what I said, and, which rather surprised me, they received +very docilely what I said against squeezing the labourers. A fire in a +farmyard had lately taken place near Salisbury; so that the subject was +a ticklish one. But it was my very first duty to treat of it, and I was +resolved, be the consequence what it might, not to neglect that duty.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>23 to 26 October.</i></p> + +<p>At Uphusband. At this village, which is a great thoroughfare for sheep +and pigs, from Wiltshire and Dorsetshire to Berkshire, Oxfordshire, and +away to the North and North East, we see many farmers from different +parts of the country; and, if I had had any doubts before, as to the +deplorableness of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> state, those would now no longer exist. I did, +indeed, years ago, prove, that if we returned to cash payments without a +reduction of the Debt, and without a rectifying of contracts, the +present race of farmers must be ruined. But still, when the thing +actually comes, it astounds one. It is like the death of a friend or +relation. We talk of its approach without much emotion. We foretell the +<i>when</i> without much seeming pain. We know it <i>must be</i>. But, when it +comes, we forget our foretellings, and feel the calamity as acutely as +if we had never expected it. The accounts we hear, daily, and almost +hourly, of the families of farmers actually coming to the <i>parish-book</i>, +are enough to make any body but a Boroughmonger feel. That species of +monster is to be moved by nothing but his own pecuniary sufferings; and, +thank God, the monster is now about to be <i>reached</i>. I hear, from all +parts, that the parsons are in great alarm! Well they may, if their +hearts be too much set upon the treasures of this world; for I can see +no possible way of settling this matter justly, without resorting to +their temporalities. They have long enough been calling upon all the +industrious classes for “sacrifices for the good of the country.” The +time seems to be come for them to do something in this way themselves. +In a short time there will be, because there can be, no rents. And, we +shall see, whether the landlords will then suffer the parsons to +continue to receive a tenth part of the produce of the land! In many +places the farmers have had the sense and the spirit to <i>rate</i> the +tithes to the <i>poor-rates</i>. This they <i>ought</i> to do in all cases, +whether the tithes be taken up in kind or not. This, however, sweats the +fire-shovel hat gentleman. It “bothers his wig.” He does not know what +to think of it. He does not know <i>who to blame</i>; and, where a parson +finds things not to his mind, the first thing he always does is, to look +about for somebody to accuse of sedition and blasphemy. Lawyers always +begin, in such cases, to hunt the books, to see if there be no +<i>punishment</i> to apply. But the devil of it is, neither of them have now +any body to lay on upon! I always told them, that there would arise an +enemy, that would laugh at all their anathemas, informations, dungeons, +halters and bayonets. One positive good has, however, arisen out of the +present calamities, and that is, the <i>parsons</i> are grown more <i>humble</i> +than they were. Cheap corn and a good thumping debt have greatly +conduced to the producing of the Christian virtue, <i>humility</i>, necessary +in us all, but doubly necessary in the priesthood. The parson is now one +of the parties who is taking away the landlord’s estate and the farmer’s +capital. When the farmer’s capital is gone, there will be no rents; but, +without a law upon the subject, the parson will still have his tithe, +and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> tithe upon the <i>taxes</i> too, which the land has to bear! Will the +landlords stand this? No matter. If there be no reform of the +Parliament, they must stand it. The two sets may, for aught I care, +worry each other as long as they please. When the present race of +farmers are gone (and that will soon be) the landlord and the parson may +settle the matter between them. They will be the only parties +interested; and which of them shall devour the other appears to be of +little consequence to the rest of the community. They agreed most +cordially in creating the Debt. They went hand in hand in all the +measures against the Reformers. They have made, actually made, the very +thing that now frightens them, which now menaces them with <i>total +extinction</i>. They cannot think it unjust, if their prayers be now +treated as the prayers of the Reformers were.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>27 to 29 October.</i></p> + +<p>At Burghclere. Very nasty weather. On the 28th the fox-hounds came to +throw off at <i>Penwood</i>, in this parish. Having heard that <i>Dundas</i> would +be out with the hounds, I rode to the place of meeting, in order to look +him in the face, and to give him an opportunity to notice, on his own +peculiar dunghill, what I had said of him at Newbury. He came. I rode up +to him and about him; but he said not a word. The company entered the +wood, and I rode back towards my quarters. They found a fox, and quickly +lost him. Then they came out of the wood and came back along the road, +and met me, and passed me, they as well as I going at a foot pace. I had +plenty of time to survey them all well, and to mark their looks. I +watched Dundas’s eyes, but the devil a bit could I get them to turn <i>my +way</i>. He is <i>paid</i> for the present. We shall see, whether he will go, or +send an ambassador, or neither, when I shall be at Reading on the 9th of +next month.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>30 October.</i></p> + +<p>Set off for London. Went by Alderbridge, Crookham, Brimton, Mortimer, +Strathfield Say, Heckfield Heath, Eversley, Blackwater, and slept at +Oakingham. This is, with trifling exceptions, a miserably poor country. +Burghclere lies along at the foot of a part of that chain of hills, +which, in this part, divide Hampshire from Berkshire. The parish just +named is, indeed, in Hampshire, but it forms merely the foot of the +Highclere and Kingsclere Hills. These hills, from which you can see all +across the country, even to the Isle of Wight, are of chalk, and with +them, towards the North, ends the chalk. The soil over which I have come +to-day, is generally a stony sand upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> a bed of gravel. With the +exception of the land just round Crookham and the other villages, +nothing can well be poorer or more villanously ugly. It is all first +cousin to Hounslow Heath, of which it is, in fact, a continuation to the +Westward. There is a clay at the bottom of the gravel; so that you have +here nasty stagnant pools without fertility of soil. The rushes grow +amongst the gravel; sure sign that there is clay beneath to hold the +water; for, unless there be water constantly at their roots, rushes will +not grow. Such land is, however, good for <i>oaks</i> wherever there is soil +enough on the top of the gravel for the oak to get hold, and to send its +tap-root down to the clay. The oak is the thing to plant here; and, +<i>therefore</i>, this whole country contains not one single plantation of +oaks! That is to say, as far as I observed. Plenty of <i>fir</i>-trees and +other rubbish have been recently planted; but no oaks.</p> + +<p>At <i>Strathfield Say</i> is that everlasting monument of English Wisdom +Collective, the <i>Heir Loom Estate</i> of the “<i>greatest Captain of the +Age</i>!” In his peerage it is said, that it was wholly out of the power of +the nation to reward his services fully; but, that “she did what she +could!” Well, poor devil! And what could any body ask for more? It was +well, however, that she give what she did while she was drunk; for, if +she had held her hand till now, I am half disposed to think, that her +gifts would have been very small. I can never forget that we have to pay +interest on 50,000<i>l.</i> of the money merely owing to the coxcombery of +the late Mr. Whitbread, who actually moved that <i>addition</i> to one of the +grants proposed by the Ministers! Now, a great part of the grants is in +the way of annuity or pension. It is notorious, that, when the grants +were made, the pensions would not purchase more than a third part of as +much wheat as they will now. The grants, therefore, have been augmented +threefold. What right, then, has any one to say, that the <i>labourers’ +wages</i> ought to fall, unless he say, that these pensions ought to be +reduced! The Hampshire Magistrates, when they were putting forth their +<i>manifesto</i> about the allowances to labourers, should have noticed these +pensions of the Lord Lieutenant of the County. However, real starvation +cannot be inflicted to any very great extent. The present race of +farmers must give way, and the attempts to squeeze rents out of the +wages of labour must cease. And the matter will finally rest to be +settled by the landlords, parsons, and tax-eaters. If the landlords +choose to give the greatest captain three times as much as was granted +to him, why, let him have it. According to all account, he is no <i>miser</i> +at any rate; and the estates that pass through his hands may, perhaps, +be full as well disposed of as they are at present. Considering the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>miserable soil I have passed over to-day, I am rather surprised to find +Oakingham so decent a town. It has a very handsome market-place, and is +by no means an ugly country-town.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>31 October.</i></p> + +<p>Set off at daylight and got to Kensington about noon. On leaving +Oakingham for London, you get upon what is called <i>Windsor Forest</i>; that +is to say, upon as bleak, as barren, and as villanous a heath as ever +man set his eyes on. However, here are new enclosures without end. And +here are houses too, here and there, over the whole of this execrable +tract of country. “What!” Mr. Canning will say, “will you not allow that +the owners of these new enclosures and these houses know their own +interests? And are not these <i>improvements</i>, and are they not a proof of +an addition to the national capital?” To the first I answer, <i>May be +so</i>; to the two last, <i>No</i>. These new enclosures and houses arise out of +the beggaring of the parts of the country distant from the vortex of the +funds. The farmhouses have long been growing fewer and fewer; the +labourers’ houses fewer and fewer; and it is manifest to every man who +has eyes to see with, that the villages are regularly wasting away. This +is the case all over the parts of the kingdom where the tax-eaters do +not haunt. In all the really agricultural villages and parts of the +kingdom, there is a <i>shocking decay</i>; a great dilapidation and constant +pulling down or falling down of houses. The farmhouses are not so many +as they were forty years ago by three-fourths. That is to say, the +infernal system of Pitt and his followers has annihilated three parts +out of four of the farm houses. The labourers’ houses disappear also. +And all the <i>useful</i> people become less numerous. While these spewy +sands and gravel near London are enclosed and built on, good lands in +other parts are neglected. These enclosures and buildings are a <i>waste</i>; +they are means <i>misapplied</i>; they are a proof of national decline and +not of prosperity. To cultivate and ornament these villanous spots the +produce and the population are drawn away from the good lands. There all +manner of schemes have been resorted to to get rid of the necessity of +<i>hands</i>; and, I am quite convinced, that the population, upon the whole, +has not increased, in England, one single soul since I was born; an +opinion that I have often expressed, in support of which I have as often +offered arguments, and those arguments have <i>never been answered</i>. As to +this rascally heath, that which has ornamented it has brought misery on +millions. The spot is not far distant from the Stock-Jobbing crew. The +roads to it are level. They are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> smooth. The wretches can go to it from +the ’Change without any danger to their worthless necks. And thus it is +“<i>vastly improved, Ma’am</i>!” A set of men who can look upon this as +“improvement,” who can regard this as a proof of the “increased capital +of the country,” are pretty fit, it must be allowed, to get the country +out of its present difficulties! At the end of this blackguard heath you +come (on the road to Egham) to a little place called <i>Sunning Hill</i>, +which is on the Western side of Windsor Park. It is a spot all made into +“grounds” and gardens by tax-eaters. The inhabitants of it have beggared +twenty agricultural villages and hamlets.</p> + +<p>From this place you go across a corner of Windsor Park, and come out at +Virginia Water. To Egham is then about two miles. A much more ugly +country than that between Egham and Kensington would with great +difficulty be found in England. Flat as a pancake, and, until you come +to Hammersmith, the soil is a nasty stony dirt upon a bed of gravel. +Hounslow-heath, which is only a little worse than the general run, is a +sample of all that is bad in soil and villanous in look. Yet this is now +enclosed, and what they call “cultivated.” Here is a fresh robbery of +villages, hamlets, and farm and labourers’ buildings and abodes! But +here is one of those “<i>vast improvements, Ma’am</i>,” called <i>Barracks</i>. +What an “improvement!” What an “addition to the national capital!” For, +mind, Monsieur de Snip, the Surrey Norman, actually said, that the new +buildings ought to be reckoned an addition to the national capital! +What, Snip! Do you pretend that the nation is <i>richer</i>, because the +means of making this barrack have been drawn away from the people in +taxes? Mind, Monsieur le Normand, the barrack did not drop down from the +sky nor spring up out of the earth. It was not created by the unhanged +knaves of paper-money. It came out of the people’s labour; and, when you +hear Mr. Ellman tell the Committee of 1821, that forty-five years ago +every man in his parish brewed his own beer, and that now not one man in +that same parish does it; when you hear this, Monsieur de Snip, you +might, if you had brains in your skull, be able to estimate the effects +of what has produced the barrack. Yet, barracks there must be, or +<i>Gatton</i> and <i>Old Sarum</i> must fall; and the fall of these would break +poor Mr. Canning’s heart.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>8 November.</i></p> + +<p>From London to Egham in the evening.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>9 November.</i></p> + +<p>Started at day-break in a hazy frost, for Reading. The horses’ manes and +ears covered with the hoar before we got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> across Windsor Park, which +appeared to be a blackguard soil, pretty much like Hounslow Heath, only +not flat. A very large part of the Park is covered with heath or rushes, +sure sign of execrable soil. But the roads are such as might have been +made by Solomon. “A greater than Solomon is here!” some one may exclaim. +Of that I know nothing. I am but a traveller; and the roads in this park +are beautiful indeed. My servant, whom I brought from amongst the hills +and flints of Uphusband, must certainly have thought himself in Paradise +as he was going through the Park. If I had told him that the buildings +and the labourers’ clothes and meals, at Uphusband, were the <i>worse</i> for +those pretty roads with edgings cut to the line, he would have wondered +at me, I dare say. It would, nevertheless, have been perfectly true; and +this is <i>feelosofee</i> of a much more useful sort than that which is +taught by the Edinburgh Reviewers.</p> + +<p>When you get through the Park you come to Winkfield, and then (bound for +Reading) you go through Binfield, which is ten miles from Egham and as +many from Reading. At Binfield I stopped to breakfast, at a very nice +country inn called the <i>Stag and Hounds</i>. Here you go along on the North +border of that villanous tract of country that I passed over in going +from Oakingham to Egham. Much of the land even here is but newly +enclosed; and it was really not worth a straw before it was loaded with +the fruit of the labour of the people living in the parts of the country +distant from the <i>Fund-Wen</i>. What injustice! What unnatural changes! +Such things cannot be, without producing convulsion in the end! A road +as smooth as a die, a real stock-jobber’s road, brought us to Reading by +eleven o’clock. We dined at one; and very much pleased I was with the +company. I have seldom seen a number of persons assembled together, +whose approbation I valued more than that of the company of this day. +Last year the prime Minister said, that his speech (the grand speech) +was rendered necessary by the “pains that had been taken, in different +parts of the country,” to persuade the farmers, that the distress had +arisen out of the <i>measures of the government</i>, and <i>not from +over-production</i>! To be sure I had taken some pains to remove that +stupid notion about over-production, from the minds of the farmers; but +did the stern-path-man <i>succeed</i> in counteracting the effect of my +efforts? Not he, indeed. And, after his speech was made, and sent forth +cheek by jowl with that of the sane Castlereagh, of hole-digging memory, +the truths inculcated by me were only the more manifest. This has been a +fine meeting at Reading! I feel very proud of it. The morning was fine +for me to ride in, and the rain began as soon as I was housed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>I came on horse-back 40 miles, slept on the road, and finished my +harangue at the end of <i>twenty-two hours</i> from leaving Kensington; and, +I cannot help saying, that is pretty well for “<i>Old</i> Cobbett.” I am +delighted with the people that I have seen at Reading. Their kindness to +me is nothing in my estimation compared with the sense and spirit which +they appear to possess. It is curious to observe how things have +<i>worked</i> with me. That combination, that sort of <i>instinctive</i> union, +which has existed for so many years, amongst all the parties, to <i>keep +me down</i> generally, and particularly, as the <i>County-Club</i> called it, to +keep me out of Parliament “<i>at any rate</i>,” this combination has led to +the present <i>haranguing</i> system, which, in some sort, supplies the place +of a seat in Parliament. It may be said, indeed, that I have not the +honour to sit in the same room with those great Reformers, Lord John +Russell, Sir Massey Lopez, and his guest, Sir Francis Burdett; but man’s +happiness here below is never perfect; and there may be, besides, people +to believe, that a man ought not to break his heart on account of being +shut out of such company, especially when he can find such company as I +have this day found at Reading.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>10 November.</i></p> + +<p>Went from Reading, through Aldermaston for Burghclere. The rain has been +very heavy, and the water was a good deal out. Here, on my way, I got +upon Crookham Common again, which is a sort of continuation of the +wretched country about Oakingham. From Highclere I looked, one day, over +the flat towards Marlborough; and I there saw some such rascally heaths. +So that this villanous tract, extends from East to West, with more or +less of exceptions, from Hounslow to Hungerford. From North to South it +extends from Binfield (which cannot be far from the borders of +Buckinghamshire) to the South Downs of Hampshire, and terminates +somewhere between Liphook and Petersfield, after stretching over +Hindhead, which is certainly the most villanous spot that God ever made. +Our ancestors do, indeed, seem to have ascribed its formation to another +power; for the most celebrated part of it is called “<i>the Devil’s Punch +Bowl</i>.” In this tract of country there are certainly some very beautiful +spots. But these are very few in number, except where the chalk-hills +run into the tract. The neighbourhood of Godalming ought hardly to be +considered as an exception; for there you are just on the outside of the +tract, and begin to enter on the <i>Wealds</i>; that is to say, clayey +woodlands. All the part of Berkshire, of which I have been recently +passing over, if I except the tract from Reading to Crookham, is very +bad land and a very ugly country.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>11 November.</i></p> + +<p>Uphusband <i>once more</i>, and, for the sixth time this year, over the North +Hampshire Hills, which, notwithstanding their everlasting flints, I like +very much. As you ride along, even in a <i>green lane</i>, the horses’ feet +make a noise like <i>hammering</i>. It seems as if you were riding on a mass +of iron. Yet the soil is good, and bears some of the best wheat in +England. All these high, and indeed, all chalky lands, are excellent for +sheep. But, on the top of some of these hills, there are as fine meadows +as I ever saw. Pasture richer, perhaps, than that about Swindon in the +North of Wiltshire. And the singularity is, that this pasture is on the +<i>very tops</i> of these lofty hills, from which you can see the Isle of +Wight. There is a stiff loam, in some places twenty feet deep, on a +bottom of chalk. Though the grass grows so finely, there is no apparent +wetness in the land. The wells are more than three hundred feet deep. +The main part of the water, for all uses, comes from the clouds; and, +indeed, these are pretty constant companions of these chalk hills, which +are very often enveloped in clouds and wet, when it is sunshine down at +Burghclere or Uphusband. They manure the land here by digging <i>wells</i> in +the fields, and bringing up the chalk, which they spread about on the +land; and which, being free-chalk, is reduced to powder by the frosts. A +considerable portion of the land is covered with wood; and as, in the +clearing of the land, the clearers followed the good soil, without +regard to shape of fields, the forms of the woods are of endless +variety, which, added to the never-ceasing inequalities of the surface +of the whole, makes this, like all the others of the same description, a +very pleasant country.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>17 November.</i></p> + +<p>Set off from Uphusband for Hambledon. The first place I had to get to +was Whitchurch. On my way, and at a short distance from Uphusband, down +the valley, I went through a village called <i>Bourn</i>, which takes its +name from the water that runs down this valley. A <i>bourn</i>, in the +language of our forefathers, seems to be a river, which is, part of the +year, <i>without water</i>. There is one of these bourns down this pretty +valley. It has, generally, no water till towards Spring, and then it +runs for several months. It is the same at the Candovers, as you go +across the downs from Odiham to Winchester.</p> + +<p>The little village of <i>Bourn</i>, therefore, takes its name from its +situation. Then there are two <i>Hurstbourns</i>, one above and one below +this village of Bourn. <i>Hurst</i> means, I believe, a Forest. There were, +doubtless, one of those on each side of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> Bourn; and when they became +villages, the one above was called <i>Up</i>-hurstbourn, and the one below, +<i>Down</i>-hurstbourn; which names have become <i>Uphusband</i> and +<i>Downhusband</i>. The lawyers, therefore, who, to the immortal honour of +high-blood and Norman descent, are making such a pretty story out for +the Lord Chancellor, relative to a Noble Peer who voted for the Bill +against the Queen, ought to leave off calling the seat of the noble +person <i>Hursperne</i>; for it is at Downhurstbourn where he lives, and +where he was visited by Dr. Bankhead!</p> + +<p>Whitchurch is a small town, but famous for being the place where the +paper has been made for the <i>Borough-Bank</i>! I passed by the <i>mill</i> on my +way out to get upon the downs to go to Alresford, where I intended to +sleep. I hope the time will come, when a monument will be erected where +that mill stands, and when on that monument will be inscribed <i>the curse +of England</i>. This spot ought to be held accursed in all time henceforth +and for evermore. It has been the spot from which have sprung more and +greater mischiefs than ever plagued mankind before. However, the evils +now appear to be fast recoiling on the merciless authors of them; and, +therefore, one beholds this scene of paper-making with a less degree of +rage than formerly. My blood used to boil when I thought of the wretches +who carried on and supported the system. It does not boil now, when I +think of them. The curse, which they intended solely for others, is now +falling on themselves; and I smile at their sufferings. Blasphemy! +Atheism! Who can be an Atheist, that sees how <i>justly</i> these wretches +are treated; with what exact measure they are receiving the evils which +they inflicted on others for a time, and which they intended to inflict +on them for ever! If, indeed, the monsters had continued to prosper, one +might have been an Atheist. The true history of the rise, progress and +fall of these monsters, of their <i>power</i>, their <i>crimes</i> and their +<i>punishment</i>, will do more than has been done before to put an end to +the doubts of those who have doubts upon this subject.</p> + +<p>Quitting Whitchurch, I went off to the left out of the Winchester-road, +got out upon the high-lands, took an “observation,” as the sailors call +it, and off I rode, in a straight line, over hedge and ditch, towards +the rising ground between Stratton Park and Micheldever-Wood; but, +before I reached this point, I found some wet meadows and some running +water in my way in a little valley running up from the turnpike road to +a little place called <i>West Stratton</i>. I, therefore, turned to my left, +went down to the turnpike, went a little way along it, then turned to my +left, went along by Stratton Park pales down East Stratton-street, and +then on towards the Grange Park. Stratton Park is the seat of Sir Thomas +Baring, who has here several thousands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> of acres of land; who has the +living of Micheldever, to which, I think, Northington and Swallowfield +are joined. Above all, he has Micheldever Wood, which, they say, +contains a thousand acres, and which is one of the finest oak-woods in +England. This large and very beautiful estate must have belonged to the +Church at the time of Henry the Eighth’s “<i>reformation</i>.” It was, I +believe, given by him to the family of <i>Russell</i>; and it was, by them, +sold to Sir Francis Baring about twenty years ago. Upon the whole, all +things considered, the change is for the better. Sir Thomas Baring would +not have moved, nay, he <i>did not</i> move, for the pardon of <i>Lopez</i>, while +he left Joseph Swann in gaol for <i>four years and a half</i>, without so +much as hinting at Swann’s case! Yea, verily, I would rather see this +estate in the hands of Sir Thomas Baring than in those of Lopez’s +friend. Besides, it seems to be acknowledged that any title is as good +as those derived from the old wife-killer. Castlereagh, when the Whigs +talked in a rather rude manner about the sinecure places and pensions, +told them, that the title of the sinecure man or woman was <i>as good as +the titles of the Duke of Bedford</i>! this was <i>plagiarism</i>, to the sure; +for <i>Burke</i> had begun it. He called the Duke the <i>Leviathan of grants</i>; +and seemed to hint at the propriety of <i>over-hauling</i> them a little. +When the men of Kent petitioned for a “<i>just</i> reduction of the National +Debt,” Lord John Russell, with that wisdom for which he is renowned, +reprobated the prayer; but, having done this in terms not sufficiently +unqualified and strong, and having made use of a word of equivocal +meaning, the man, that cut his own throat at North Cray, pitched on upon +him and told him, that the fundholder had as much right to his +dividends, as <i>the Duke of Bedford had to his estates</i>. Upon this the +noble reformer and advocate for Lopez mended his expressions; and really +said what the North Cray philosopher said he ought to say! Come, come: +Micheldever Wood is in very proper hands! A little girl, of whom I asked +my way down into East Stratton, and who was dressed in a camlet gown, +white apron and plaid cloak (it was Sunday), and who had a book in her +hand, told me that Lady Baring gave her the clothes, and had her taught +to read and to sing hymns and spiritual songs.</p> + +<p>As I came through the Strattons, I saw not less than a dozen girls clad +in this same way. It is impossible not to believe that this is done with +a good motive; but it is possible not to believe that it is productive +of good. It must create hypocrites, and hypocrisy is the great sin of +the age. Society is in a <i>queer</i> state when the rich think, that they +must <i>educate</i> the poor in order to insure their <i>own safety</i>: for this, +at bottom, is the great motive now at work in pushing on the education +scheme, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> in this particular case, perhaps, there may be a little +enthusiasm at work. When persons are glutted with riches; when they have +their fill of them; when they are surfeited of all earthly pursuits, +they are very apt to begin to think about the next world; and, the +moment they begin to think of that, they begin to look over the +<i>account</i> that they shall have to present. Hence the far greater part of +what are called “charities.” But it is the business of <i>governments</i> to +take care that there shall be very little of this <i>glutting</i> with +riches, and very little need of “charities.”</p> + +<p>From Stratton I went on to Northington Down; then round to the South of +the Grange Park (Alex. Baring’s), down to Abbotson, and over some pretty +little green hills to Alresford, which is a nice little town of itself, +but which presents a singularly beautiful view from the last little hill +coming from Abbotson. I could not pass by the Grange Park without +thinking of <i>Lord and Lady Henry Stuart</i>, whose lives and deaths +surpassed what we read of in the most sentimental romances. Very few +things that I have met with in my life ever filled me with sorrow equal +to that which I felt at the death of this most virtuous and most amiable +pair.</p> + +<p>It began raining soon after I got to Alresford, and rained all the +evening. I heard here, that a Requisition for a County Meeting was in +the course of being signed in different parts of the county. They mean +to petition for Reform, I hope. At any rate, I intend to go to see what +they do. I saw the <i>parsons</i> at the county meeting in 1817. I should +like, of all things, to see them at another meeting <i>now</i>. These are the +persons that I have most steadily in my eye. The war and the debt were +for the <i>tithes</i> and the <i>boroughs</i>. These must stand or fall together +now. I always told the parsons, that they were the greatest fools in the +world to put the tithes on board <i>the same boat</i> with the boroughs. I +told them so in 1817; and, I fancy, they will soon see all about it.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>November 18.</i></p> + +<p>Came from Alresford to Hambledon, through Titchbourn, Cheriton, +Beauworth, Kilmston, and Exton. This is all a high, hard, dry, +fox-hunting country. Like that, indeed, over which I came yesterday. At +Titchbourn, there is a park, and “great house,” as the country-people +call it. The place belongs, I believe, to a Sir somebody <i>Titchbourne</i>, +a family, very likely half as old as the name of the village, which, +however, partly takes its name from the <i>bourn</i> that runs down the +valley. I thought, as I was riding alongside of this park, that I had +heard <i>good</i> of this family of Titchbourne, and, I therefore saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> the +park <i>pales</i> with sorrow. There is not more than one pale in a yard, and +those that remain, and the rails and posts and all, seem tumbling down. +This park-paling is perfectly typical of those of the landlords who are +<i>not tax-eaters</i>. They are wasting away very fast. The tax-eating +landlords think to swim out the gale. They are deceived. They are +“deluded” by their own greediness.</p> + +<p>Kilmston was my next place after Titchbourn, but I wanted to go to +Beauworth, so that I had to go through Cheriton; a little, hard, iron +village, where all seems to be as old as the hills that surround it. In +coming along you see Titchbourn church away to the right, on the side of +the hill, a very pretty little view; and this, though such a hard +country, is a pretty country.</p> + +<p>At Cheriton I found a grand camp of <i>Gipsys</i>, just upon the move towards +Alresford. I had met some of the scouts first, and afterwards the +advanced guard, and here the main body was getting in motion. One of the +scouts that I met was a young woman, who, I am sure, was six feet high. +There were two or three more in the camp of about the same height; and +some most strapping fellows of men. It is curious that this race should +have preserved their dark skin and coal-black straight and coarse hair, +very much like that of the American Indians. I mean the hair, for the +skin has nothing of the copper-colour as that of the Indians has. It is +not, either, of the Mulatto cast; that is to say, there is no yellow in +it. It is a black mixed with our English colours of pale, or red, and +the features are small, like those of the girls in Sussex, and often +singularly pretty. The tall girl that I met at Titchbourn, who had a +huckster basket on her arm, had most beautiful features. I pulled up my +horse, and said, “Can you tell me my fortune, my dear?” She answered in +the negative, giving me a look at the same time, that seemed to say, it +was <i>too late</i>; and that if I had been thirty years younger she might +have seen a little what she could do with me. It is, all circumstances +considered, truly surprising, that this race should have preserved so +perfectly all its distinctive marks.</p> + +<p>I came on to Beauworth to inquire after the family of a worthy old +farmer, whom I knew there some years ago, and of whose death I had heard +at Alresford. A bridle road over some fields and through a coppice took +me to Kilmston, formerly a large village, but now mouldered into two +farms, and a few miserable tumble-down houses for the labourers. Here is +a house, that was formerly the residence of the landlord of the place, +but is now occupied by one of the farmers. This is a fine country for +fox-hunting, and Kilmston belonged to a Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> Ridge who was a famous +fox-hunter, and who is accused of having spent his fortune in that way. +But what do people mean? He had a right to spend his <i>income</i>, as his +fathers had done before him. It was the Pitt-system, and not the +fox-hunting, that took away the principal. The place now belongs to a +Mr. Long, whose origin I cannot find out.</p> + +<p>From Kilmston I went right over the downs to the top of a hill called +<i>Beacon Hill</i>, which is one of the loftiest hills in the country. Here +you can see the Isle of Wight in detail, a fine sweep of the sea; also +away into Sussex, and over the New Forest into Dorsetshire. Just below +you, to the East, you look down upon the village of Exton; and you can +see up this valley (which is called a <i>Bourn</i> too) as far as West Meon, +and down it as far as Soberton. Corhampton, Warnford, Meon-Stoke and +Droxford come within these two points; so that here are six villages on +this bourn within the space of about five miles. On the other side of +the main valley down which the bourn runs, and opposite Beacon Hill, is +another such a hill, which they call <i>Old Winchester Hill</i>. On the top +of this hill there was once a camp, or, rather fortress; and the +ramparts are now pretty nearly as visible as ever. The same is to be +seen on the Beacon Hill at Highclere. These ramparts had nothing of the +principles of modern fortification in their formation. You see no signs +of salliant angles. It was a <i>ditch</i> and <i>a bank</i>, and that appears to +have been all. I had, I think, a full mile to go down from the top of +Beacon Hill to Exton. This is the village where that <i>Parson Baines</i> +lives who, as described by me in 1817, bawled in Lord Cochrane’s ear at +Winchester in the month of March of that year. Parson <i>Poulter</i> lives at +Meon-Stoke, which is not a mile further down. So that this valley has +something in it besides picturesque views! I asked some countrymen how +Poulter and Baines did; but their answer contained too much of +<i>irreverence</i> for me to give it here.</p> + +<p>At Exton I crossed the Gosport turnpike road, came up the cross valley +under the South side of Old Winchester Hill, over Stoke down, then over +West-End down, and then to my friend’s house at West-End in the parish +of Hambledon.</p> + +<p>Thus have I crossed nearly the whole of this country from the North-West +to the South-East, without going five hundred yards on a turnpike road, +and, as nearly as I could do it, in a straight line.</p> + +<p>The whole country that I have crossed is loam and flints, upon a bottom +of chalk. At Alresford there are some watered meadows, which are the +beginning of a chain of meadows that goes all the way down to +Winchester, and hence to Southampton; but even these meadows have, at +Alresford, chalk under them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> The water that supplies them comes out of +<i>a pond</i>, called Alresford Pond, which is fed from the high hills in the +neighbourhood. These counties are purely agricultural; and they have +suffered most cruelly from the accursed Pitt-system. Their hilliness, +bleakness, roughness of roads, render them unpleasant to the luxurious, +effeminate, tax-eating crew, who never come near them, and who have +pared them down to the very bone. The villages are all in a state of +<i>decay</i>. The farm-buildings dropping down, bit by bit. The produce is, +by a few great farmers, dragged to a few spots, and all the rest is +falling into decay. If this infernal system could go on for forty years +longer, it would make all the labourers as much slaves as the negroes +are, and subject to the same sort of discipline and management.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>November 19 to 23.</i></p> + +<p>At West End. Hambledon is a long, straggling village, lying in a little +valley formed by some very pretty but not lofty hills. The environs are +much prettier than the village itself, which is not far from the North +side of Portsdown Hill. This must have once been a considerable place; +for here is a church pretty nearly as large as that at Farnham in +Surrey, which is quite sufficient for a large town. The means of living +has been drawn away from these villages, and the people follow the +means. Cheriton and Kilmston and Hambledon and the like have been +beggared for the purpose of giving tax-eaters the means of making “<i>vast +improvements, Ma’am</i>,” on the villanous spewy gravel of Windsor Forest! +The thing, however, must go <i>back</i>. Revolution here or revolution there: +bawl, bellow, alarm, as long as the tax-eaters like, <i>back</i> the thing +must go. Back, indeed, <i>it is going</i> in some quarters. Those scenes of +glorious loyalty, the sea-port places, are beginning to be deserted. How +many villages has that scene of all that is wicked and odious, +Portsmouth, Gosport, and Portsea; how many villages has that hellish +assemblage beggared! It is now being scattered <i>itself</i>! Houses which +there let for forty or fifty pounds a-year each, now let for three or +four shillings a-week each; and thousands, perhaps, cannot be let at all +to any body capable of paying rent. There is an absolute tumbling down +taking place, where, so lately, there were such “vast improvements, +Ma’am!” Does Monsieur de Snip call those improvements, then? Does he +insist, that those houses form “an addition to the national capital?” Is +it any wonder that a country should be miserable when such notions +prevail? And when they can, even in the Parliament, be received with +cheering?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Nov. 24, Sunday.</i></p> + +<p>Set off from Hambledon to go to Thursley in Surrey, about five miles +from Godalming. Here I am at Thursley, after as interesting a day as I +ever spent in all my life. They say that “<i>variety</i> is charming,” and +this day I have had of scenes and of soils a variety indeed!</p> + +<p>To go to Thursley from Hambledon the plain way was up the downs to +Petersfield, and then along the turnpike-road through Liphook, and over +Hindhead, at the north-east foot of which Thursley lies. But, I had been +over that sweet Hindhead, and had seen too much of turnpike-road and of +heath, to think of taking another so large a dose of them. The map of +Hampshire (and we had none of Surrey) showed me the way to Headley, +which lies on the West of Hindhead, down upon the flat. I knew it was +but about five miles from Headley to Thursley; and I, therefore, +resolved to go to Headley, in spite of all the remonstrances of friends, +who represented to me the danger of breaking my neck at Hawkley and of +getting buried in the bogs of Woolmer Forest. My route was through +East-Meon, Froxfield, Hawkley, Greatham, and then over Woolmer Forest (a +<i>heath</i> if you please), to Headley.</p> + +<p>Off we set over the downs (crossing the bottom sweep of Old Winchester +Hill) from West-End to East-Meon. We came down a long and steep hill +that led us winding round into the village, which lies in a valley that +runs in a direction nearly east and west, and that has a rivulet that +comes out of the hills towards Petersfield. If I had not seen anything +further to-day, I should have dwelt long on the beauties of this place. +Here is a very fine valley, in nearly an eliptical form, sheltered by +high hills sloping gradually from it; and not far from the middle of +this valley there is a hill nearly in the form of a goblet-glass with +the foot and stem broken off and turned upside down. And this is clapped +down upon the level of the valley, just as you would put such goblet +upon a table. The hill is lofty, partly covered with wood, and it gives +an air of great singularity to the scene. I am sure that East-Meon has +been a <i>large place</i>. The church has a <i>Saxon Tower</i>, pretty nearly +equal, as far as I recollect, to that of the Cathedral at Winchester. +The rest of the church has been rebuilt, and, perhaps, several times; +but the <i>tower</i> is complete; it has had <i>a steeple</i> put upon it; but it +retains all its beauty, and it shows that the church (which is still +large) must, at first, have been a very large building. Let those, who +talk so glibly of the increase of the population in England, go over the +country from Highclere to Hambledon. Let them look at the size of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +churches, and let them observe those numerous small enclosures on every +side of every village, which had, to a certainty, <i>each its house</i> in +former times. But let them go to East-Meon, and account for that church. +Where did the hands come from to make it? Look, however, at the downs, +the many square miles of downs near this village, all bearing the <i>marks +of the plough</i>, and all out of tillage for many many years; yet, not one +single inch of them but what is vastly superior in quality to any of +those great “improvements” on the miserable heaths of Hounslow, Bagshot, +and Windsor Forest. It is the destructive, the murderous paper-system, +that has transferred the fruit of the labour, and the people along with +it, from the different parts of the country to the neighbourhood of the +all-devouring <i>Wen</i>. I do not believe one word of what is said of the +increase of the population. All observation and all reason is against +the fact; and, as to the <i>parliamentary returns</i>, what need we more than +this: that <i>they</i> assert, that the population of Great Britain has +increased from ten to fourteen millions in the last <i>twenty years</i>! That +is enough! A man that can suck that in will believe, literally believe, +that the moon is made of green cheese. Such a thing is too monstrous to +be swallowed by any body but Englishmen, and by any Englishman not +brutified by a Pitt-system.</p> + +<p class="center"><br /><span class="smcap">to Mr. Canning.</span></p> + +<p class="right"><i>Worth (Sussex),<br />10 December, 1822.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>The agreeable news from France, relative to the intended invasion of +Spain, compelled me to break off, in my last Letter, in the middle of my +<i>Rural Ride</i> of Sunday, the 24th of November. Before I mount again, +which I shall do in this Letter, pray let me ask you what <i>sort of +apology</i> is to be offered to the nation, if the French Bourbons be +permitted to take quiet possession of Cadiz and of the Spanish naval +force? Perhaps you may be disposed to answer, when you have taken time +to reflect; and, therefore, leaving you to <i>muse</i> on the matter, I will +resume my ride.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>November 24.</i></p> + +<p>(Sunday.) From Hambledon to Thursley (continued).</p> + +<p>From East-Meon, I did not go on to Froxfield church, but turned off to +the left to a place (a couple of houses) called <i>Bower</i>. Near this I +stopped at a friend’s house, which is in about as lonely a situation as +I ever saw. A very pleasant place <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>however. The lands dry, a nice +mixture of woods and fields, and a great variety of hill and dell.</p> + +<p>Before I came to East-Meon, the soil of the hills was a shallow loam +with flints, on a bottom of chalk; but on this side of the valley of +East-Meon; that is to say, on the north side, the soil on the hills is a +deep, stiff loam, on a bed of a sort of gravel mixed with chalk; and the +stones, instead of being grey on the outside and blue on the inside, are +yellow on the outside and whitish on the inside. In coming on further to +the North, I found, that the bottom was sometimes gravel and sometime +chalk. Here, at the time when <i>whatever it was</i> that formed these hills +and valleys, the stuff of which Hindhead is composed seems to have run +down and mixed itself with the stuff of which <i>Old Winchester Hill</i> is +composed. Free chalk (which is the sort found here) is excellent manure +for stiff land, and it produces a complete change in the nature of +<i>clays</i>. It is, therefore, dug here, on the North of East-Meon, about in +the fields, where it happens to be found, and is laid out upon the +surface, where it is crumbled to powder by the frost, and thus gets +incorporated with the loam.</p> + +<p>At Bower I got instructions to go to Hawkley, but accompanied with most +earnest advice not to go that way, for that it was impossible to get +along. The roads were represented as so bad; the floods so much out; the +hills and bogs so dangerous; that, really, I began to <i>doubt</i>; and, if I +had not been brought up amongst the clays of the Holt Forest and the +bogs of the neighbouring heaths, I should certainly have turned off to +my right, to go over Hindhead, great as was my objection to going that +way. “Well, then,” said my friend at Bower, “if you <i>will</i> go that way, +by G—, you must go down <i>Hawkley Hanger</i>;” of which he then gave me +<i>such</i> a description! But, even this I found to fall short of the +reality. I inquired simply, whether <i>people were in the habit</i> of going +down it; and, the answer being in the affirmative, on I went through +green lanes and bridle-ways till I came to the turnpike-road from +Petersfield to Winchester, which I crossed, going into a narrow and +almost untrodden green lane, on the side of which I found a cottage. +Upon my asking the way to <i>Hawkley</i>, the woman at the cottage said, +“Right up the lane, Sir: you’ll come to a <i>hanger</i> presently: you must +take care, Sir: you can’t ride down: will your horses <i>go alone</i>?”</p> + +<p>On we trotted up this pretty green lane; and indeed, we had been coming +gently and generally up hill for a good while. The lane was between +highish banks and pretty high stuff growing on the banks, so that we +could see no distance from us, and could receive not the smallest hint +of what was so near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> at hand. The lane had a little turn towards the +end; so that, out we came, all in a moment, at the very edge of the +hanger! And never, in all my life, was I so surprised and so delighted! +I pulled up my horse, and sat and looked; and it was like looking from +the top of a castle down into the sea, except that the valley was land +and not water. I looked at my servant, to see what effect this +unexpected sight had upon him. His surprise was as great as mine, though +he had been bred amongst the North Hampshire hills. Those who had so +strenuously dwelt on the dirt and dangers of this route, had said not a +word about beauties, the matchless beauties of the scenery. These +hangers are woods on the sides of very steep hills. The trees and +underwood <i>hang</i>, in some sort, to the ground, instead of <i>standing on</i> +it. Hence these places are called <i>Hangers</i>. From the summit of that +which I had now to descend, I looked down upon the villages of Hawkley, +Greatham, Selborne and some others.</p> + +<p>From the south-east, round, southward, to the north-west, the main +valley has cross-valleys running out of it, the hills on the sides of +which are very steep, and, in many parts, covered with wood. The hills +that form these cross-valleys run out into the main valley, like piers +into the sea. Two of these promontories, of great height, are on the +west side of the main valley, and were the first objects that struck my +sight when I came to the edge of the hanger, which was on the south. The +ends of these promontories are nearly perpendicular, and their tops so +high in the air, that you cannot look at the village below without +something like a feeling of apprehension. The leaves are all off, the +hop-poles are in stack, the fields have little verdure; but, while the +spot is beautiful beyond description even now, I must leave to +imagination to suppose what it is, when the trees and hangers and hedges +are in leaf, the corn waving, the meadows bright, and the hops upon the +poles!</p> + +<p>From the south-west, round, eastward, to the north, lie the <i>heaths</i>, of +which Woolmer Forest makes a part, and these go gradually rising up to +Hindhead, the crown of which is to the north-west, leaving the rest of +the circle (the part from north to north-west) to be occupied by a +continuation of the valley towards Headley, Binstead, Frensham and the +Holt Forest. So that even the <i>contrast</i> in the view from the top of the +hanger is as great as can possibly be imagined. Men, however, are not to +have such beautiful views as this without some trouble. We had had the +view; but we had to go down the hanger. We had, indeed, some roads to +get along, as we could, afterwards; but we had to get down the hanger +first. The horses took the lead, and crept partly down upon their feet +and partly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> upon their hocks. It was extremely slippery too; for the +soil is a sort of marle, or, as they call it here, maume, or mame, which +is, when wet, very much like <i>grey soap</i>. In such a case it was likely +that I should keep in the rear, which I did, and I descended by taking +hold of the branches of the underwood, and so letting myself down. When +we got to the bottom, I bade my man, when he should go back to +Uphusband, tell the people there, that <i>Ashmansworth Lane</i> is not the +<i>worst</i> piece of road in the world. Our worst, however, was not come +yet, nor had we by any means seen the most novel sights.</p> + +<p>After crossing a little field and going through a farm-yard, we came +into a lane, which was, at once, road and river. We found a hard bottom, +however; and when we got out of the water, we got into a lane with high +banks. The banks were quarries of white stone, like Portland-stone, and +the bed of the road was of the same stone; and, the rains having been +heavy for a day or two before, the whole was as clean and as white as +the steps of a fund-holder or dead-weight door-way in one of the Squares +of the <i>Wen</i>. Here were we, then, going along a stone road with stone +banks, and yet the underwood and trees grew well upon the tops of the +banks. In the solid stone beneath us, there were a horse-track and +wheel-tracks, the former about three and the latter about six inches +deep. How many many ages it must have taken the horses’ feet, the +wheels, and the water, to wear down this stone, so as to form a hollow +way! The horses seemed alarmed at their situation; they trod with fear; +but they took us along very nicely, and, at last, got us safe into the +indescribable dirt and mire of the road from Hawkley Green to Greatham. +Here the bottom of all the land is this solid white stone, and the top +is that <i>mame</i>, which I have before described. The hop-roots penetrate +down into this stone. How deep the stone may go I know not; but, when I +came to look up at the end of one of the piers, or promontories, +mentioned above, I found that it was all of this same stone.</p> + +<p>At Hawkley Green, I asked a farmer the way to Thursley. He pointed to +one of two roads going from the green; but it appearing to me, that that +would lead me up to the London road and over Hindhead, I gave him to +understand that I was resolved to get along, somehow or other, through +the “low countries.” He besought me not to think of it. However, finding +me resolved, he got a man to go a little way to put me into the Greatham +road. The man came, but the farmer could not let me go off without +renewing his entreaties, that I would go away to Liphook, in which +entreaties the man joined, though he was to be paid very well for his +trouble.</p> + +<p>Off we went, however, to Greatham. I am thinking, whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> I ever did +see <i>worse</i> roads. Upon the whole, I think, I have; though I am not sure +that the roads of New Jersey, between Trenton and Elizabeth-Town, at the +breaking up of winter, be worse. Talk of <i>shows</i>, indeed! Take a piece +of this road; just a cut across, and a rod long, and carry it up to +London. That would be something like a <i>show</i>!</p> + +<p>Upon leaving Greatham we came out upon Woolmer Forest. Just as we were +coming out of Greatham, I asked a man the way to Thursley. “You <i>must</i> +go to <i>Liphook</i>, Sir,” said he. “But,” I said, “I <i>will not</i> go to +Liphook.” These people seemed to be posted at all these stages to turn +me aside from my purpose, and to make me go over that <i>Hindhead</i>, which +I had resolved to avoid. I went on a little further, and asked another +man the way to Headley, which, as I have already observed, lies on the +western foot of Hindhead, whence I knew there must be a road to Thursley +(which lies at the North East foot) without going over that miserable +hill. The man told me, that I must go across the <i>forest</i>. I asked him +whether it was a <i>good</i> road: “It is a <i>sound</i> road,” said he, laying a +weighty emphasis upon the word <i>sound</i>. “Do people <i>go</i> it?” said I. +“<i>Ye-es</i>,” said he. “Oh then,” said I, to my man, “as it is a <i>sound</i> +road, keep you close to my heels, and do not attempt to go aside, not +even for a foot.” Indeed, it was a <i>sound</i> road. The rain of the night +had made the fresh horse tracks visible. And we got to Headley in a +short time, over a sand-road, which seemed so delightful after the +flints and stone and dirt and sloughs that we had passed over and +through since the morning! This road was not, if we had been benighted, +without its dangers, the forest being full of quags and quicksands. This +is a tract of Crown lands, or, properly speaking, <i>public lands</i>, on +some parts of which our Land Steward, Mr. Huskisson, is making some +plantations of trees, partly fir, and partly other trees. What he can +plant the <i>fir</i> for, God only knows, seeing that the country is already +over-stocked with that rubbish. But this <i>public land</i> concern is a very +great concern.</p> + +<p>If I were a Member of Parliament, I <i>would</i> know what timber has been +cut down, and what it has been sold for, since year 1790. However, this +matter must be <i>investigated</i>, first or last. It never can be omitted in +the winding up of the concern; and that winding up must come out of +wheat at four shillings a bushel. It is said, hereabouts, that a man who +lives near Liphook, and who is so mighty a hunter and game pursuer, that +they call him <i>William Rufus</i>; it is said that this man is <i>Lord of the +Manor of Woolmer Forest</i>. This he cannot be without <i>a grant</i> to that +effect; and, if there be a grant, there must have been a <i>reason</i> for +the grant. This <i>reason</i> I should very much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> like to know; and this I +would know if I were a Member of Parliament. That the people call him +the <i>Lord of the Manor</i> is certain; but he can hardly make preserves of +the plantations; for it is well known how marvellously <i>hares</i> and +<i>young trees</i> agree together! This is a matter of great public +importance; and yet, how, in the present state of things, is an +<i>investigation</i> to be obtained? Is there a man in Parliament that will +call for it? Not one. Would a dissolution of Parliament mend the matter? +No; for the same men would be there still. They are the same men that +have been there for these thirty years; and the <i>same men</i> they will be, +and they <i>must be</i>, until there be <i>a reform</i>. To be sure when one dies, +or cuts his throat (as in the case of Castlereagh), another <i>one</i> comes; +but it is the <i>same body</i>. And, as long as it is that same body, things +will always go on as they now go on. However, as Mr. Canning says the +body “<i>works well</i>,” we must not say the contrary.</p> + +<p>The soil of this tract is, generally, a black sand, which, in some +places, becomes <i>peat</i>, which makes very tolerable fuel. In some parts +there is clay at bottom; and there the <i>oaks</i> would grow; but not while +there are <i>hares</i> in any number on the forest. If trees be to grow here, +there ought to be no hares, and as little hunting as possible.</p> + +<p>We got to Headly, the sign of the Holly-Bush, just at dusk, and just as +it began to rain. I had neither eaten nor drunk since eight o’clock in +the morning; and as it was a nice little public-house, I at first +intended to stay all night, an intention that I afterwards very +indiscreetly gave up. I had <i>laid my plan</i>, which included the getting +to Thursley that night. When, therefore, I had got some cold bacon and +bread, and some milk, I began to feel ashamed of stopping short of my +<i>plan</i>, especially after having so heroically persevered in the “stern +path,” and so disdainfully scorned to go over Hindhead. I knew that my +road lay through a hamlet called <i>Churt</i>, where they grow such fine +<i>bennet-grass</i> seed. There was a moon; but there was also a hazy rain. I +had heaths to go over, and I might go into quags. Wishing to execute my +plan, however, I at last brought myself to quit a very comfortable +turf-fire, and to set off in the rain, having bargained to give a man +three shillings to guide me out to the Northern foot of Hindhead. I took +care to ascertain, that my guide knew the road perfectly well; that is +to say, I took care to ascertain it as far as I could, which was, +indeed, no farther than his word would go. Off we set, the guide mounted +on his own or master’s horse, and with a white smock frock, which +enabled us to see him clearly. We trotted on pretty fast for about half +an hour; and I perceived, not without some surprise, that the rain, +which I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> knew to be coming from the <i>South</i>, met me full in the face, +when it ought, according to my reckoning, to have beat upon my right +cheek. I called to the guide repeatedly to ask him if he was <i>sure that +he was right</i>, to which he always answered “Oh! yes, Sir, I know the +road.” I did not like this, “<i>I know the road</i>.” At last, after going +about six miles in nearly a Southern direction, the guide turned short +to the left. That brought the rain upon my right cheek, and, though I +could not very well account for the long stretch to the South, I +thought, that, at any rate, we were <i>now</i> in the right track; and, after +going about a mile in this new direction, I began to ask the guide <i>how +much further we had to go</i>; for I had got a pretty good soaking, and was +rather impatient to see the foot of Hindhead. Just at this time, in +raising my head and looking forward as I spoke to the guide, what should +I see, but a long, high, and steep <i>hanger</i> arising before us, the trees +along the top of which I could easily distinguish! The fact was, we were +just getting to the outside of the heath, and were on the brow of a +steep hill, which faced this hanging wood. The guide had begun to +descend, and I had called to him to stop; for the hill was so steep, +that, rain as it did and wet as my saddle must be, I got off my horse in +order to walk down. But, now behold, the fellow discovered, that he <i>had +lost his way</i>!—Where we were I could not even guess. There was but one +remedy, and that was to get back, if we could. I became guide now; and +did as Mr. Western is advising the Ministers to do, <i>retraced</i> my steps. +We went back about half the way that we had come, when we saw two men, +who showed us the way that we ought to go. At the end of about a mile, +we fortunately found the turnpike-road; not, indeed, at the <i>foot</i>, but +on the <i>tip-top</i> of that very Hindhead, on which I had so repeatedly +<i>vowed</i> I would not go! We came out on the turnpike some hundred yards +on the Liphook side of the buildings called <i>the Hut</i>; so that we had +the whole of three miles of hill to come down at not much better than a +foot pace, with a good pelting rain at our backs.</p> + +<p>It is odd enough how differently one is affected by the same sight, +under different circumstances. At the “<i>Holly Bush</i>” at Headly there was +a room full of fellows in white smock frocks, drinking and smoking and +talking, and I, who was then dry and warm, <i>moralized</i> within myself on +their <i>folly</i> in spending their time in such a way. But, when I got down +from Hindhead to the public-house at Road-Lane, with my skin soaking and +my teeth chattering, I thought just such another group, whom I saw +through the window sitting round a good fire with pipes in their mouths, +the <i>wisest assembly</i> I had ever set my eyes on. A real <i>Collective +Wisdom</i>. And, I most solemnly declare,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> that I felt a greater veneration +for them than I have ever felt even for the <i>Privy Council</i>, +notwithstanding the Right Honorable Charles Wynn and the Right Honorable +Sir John Sinclair belong to the latter.</p> + +<p>It was now but a step to my friend’s house, where a good fire and a +change of clothes soon put all to rights, save and except the having +come over Hindhead after all my resolutions. This mortifying +circumstance; this having been <i>beaten</i>, lost the guide the <i>three +shillings</i> that I had agreed to give him. “Either,” said I, “you did not +know the way well, or you did: if the former, it was dishonest in you to +undertake to guide me: if the latter, you have wilfully led me miles out +of my way.” He grumbled; but off he went. He certainly deserved nothing; +for he did not know the way, and he prevented some other man from +earning and receiving the money. But, had he not caused me to <i>get upon +Hindhead</i>, he would have had the three shillings. I had, at one time, +got my hand in my pocket; but the thought of having been <i>beaten</i> pulled +it out again.</p> + +<p>Thus ended the most interesting day, as far as I know, that I ever +passed in all my life. Hawkley-hangers, promontories, and stone-roads +will always come into my mind when I see, or hear of, picturesque views. +I forgot to mention, that, in going from Hawkley to Greatham, the man, +who went to show me the way, told me at a certain fork, “That road goes +to <i>Selborne</i>.” This put me in mind of a book, which was once +recommended to me, but which I never saw, entitled “<i>The History and +Antiquities of Selborne</i>,” (or something of that sort) written, I think, +by a parson of the name of <i>White</i>, brother of Mr. <i>White</i>, so long a +Bookseller in Fleet-street. This parson had, I think, the living of the +parish of Selborne. The book was mentioned to me as a work of great +curiosity and interest. But, at that time, the <span class="smcaplc">THING</span> was biting <i>so very +sharply</i> that one had no attention to bestow on antiquarian researches. +Wheat at 39<i>s.</i> a quarter, and Southdown ewes at 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> have so +weakened the <span class="smcaplc">THING’S</span> jaws and so filed down its teeth, that I shall now +certainly read this book if I can get it. By-the-bye if <i>all the +parsons</i> had, for the last thirty years, employed their leisure time in +writing the histories of their several parishes, instead of living, as +many of them have, engaged in pursuits that I need not here name, +neither their situation nor that of their flocks would, perhaps, have +been the worse for it at this day.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursley (Surrey), Nov. 25.</i></p> + +<p>In looking back into Hampshire, I see with pleasure the farmers +bestirring themselves to get a County Meeting called.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> There were, I was +told, nearly five hundred names to a Requisition, and those all of +land-owners or occupiers.—Precisely what they mean to petition for I do +not know; but (and now I address myself to you, Mr. Canning,) if they do +not petition <i>for a reform of the Parliament</i>, they will do worse than +nothing. You, Sir, have often told us, that the <span class="smcaplc">HOUSE</span>, however got +together, “works well.” Now, as I said in 1817, just before I went to +America to get out of the reach of our friend, the <i>Old Doctor</i>, and to +use my <i>long arm</i>; as I said then, in a Letter addressed to Lord +Grosvenor, so I say now, show me the inexpediency of reform, and I will +hold my tongue. Show us, prove to us, that the House “works well,” and +I, for my part, give the matter up. It is not the construction or the +motions of a machine that I ever look at: all I look after is <i>the +effect</i>. When, indeed, I find that the effect is deficient or evil, I +look to the construction. And, as I now see, and have for many years +seen, evil effect, I seek a remedy in an alteration in the machine. +There is now nobody; no, not a single man, out of the regions of +Whitehall, who will pretend, that the country can, without the risk of +some great and terrible convulsion, go on, even for twelve months +longer, unless there be a great change of some sort in the mode of +managing the public affairs.</p> + +<p>Could you see and hear what I have seen and heard during this Rural +Ride, you would no longer say, that the House “works well.” Mrs. Canning +and your children are dear to you; but, Sir, not more dear than are to +them the wives and children of, perhaps, two hundred thousand men, who, +by the Acts of this same House, see those wives and children doomed to +beggary, and to beggary, too, never thought of, never regarded as more +likely than a blowing up of the earth or a falling of the sun. It was +reserved for this “working well” House to make the fire-sides of farmers +scenes of gloom. These fire-sides, in which I have always so delighted, +I now approach with pain. I was, not long ago, sitting round the fire +with as worthy and as industrious a man as all England contains. There +was his son, about 19 years of age; two daughters from 15 to 18; and a +little boy sitting on the father’s knee. I knew, but not from him, that +there was <i>a mortgage</i> on his farm. I was anxious to induce him <i>to sell +without delay</i>. With this view I, in an hypothetical and round-about +way, approached <i>his case</i>, and at last I came to final consequences. +The deep and deeper gloom on a countenance, once so cheerful, told me +what was passing in his breast, when turning away my looks in order to +seem not to perceive the effect of my words, I saw the eyes of his wife +full of tears. She had made the application; and there were her children +before her! And am I to be <i>banished for life</i> if I express what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> I felt +upon this occasion! And does this House, then, “work well?” How many +men, of the most industrious, the most upright, the most exemplary, upon +the face of the earth, have been, by this one Act of this House, driven +to despair, ending in madness or self-murder, or both! Nay, how many +scores! And, yet, are we to be banished for life, if we endeavour to +show, that this House does not “work well?”—However, banish or banish +not, these facts are notorious: <i>the House</i> made all the <i>Loans</i> which +constitute the debt: <i>the House</i> contracted for the Dead Weight: <i>the +House</i> put a stop to gold-payments in 1797: <i>the House</i> unanimously +passed Peel’s Bill. Here are <i>all</i> the causes of the ruin, the misery, +the anguish, the despair, and the madness and self-murders. Here they +are <i>all</i>. They have all been Acts of this House; and yet, we are to be +banished if we say, in words suitable to the subject, that this House +does not “<i>work well</i>!”</p> + +<p>This one Act, I mean this <i>Banishment Act</i>, would be enough, with +posterity, to characterize this House. When they read (and can believe +what they read) that it actually passed a law to banish for life any one +who should write, print, or publish anything having a <i>tendency</i> to +bring it into <i>contempt</i>; when posterity shall read this, and believe +it, they will want nothing more to enable them to say what sort of an +assembly it was! It was delightful, too, that they should pass this law +just after they had passed <i>Peel’s Bill</i>! Oh, God! thou art <i>just</i>! As +to <i>reform</i>, it <i>must come</i>. Let what else will happen, it must come. +Whether before, or after, all the estates be transferred, I cannot say. +But, this I know very well; that the later it come, the <i>deeper</i> will it +go.</p> + +<p>I shall, of course, go on remarking, as occasion offers, upon what is +done by and said in this present House; but I know that it can do +nothing efficient for the relief of the country. I have seen some men of +late, who seem to think, that even a reform, enacted, or begun, by this +House, would be an evil; and that it would be better to let the whole +thing go on, and produce its natural consequence. I am not of this +opinion: I am for a reform as soon as possible, even though it be not, +at first, precisely what I could wish; because, if the debt blow up +before the reform take place, confusion and uproar there must be; and I +do not want to see confusion and uproar. I am for a reform of <i>some +sort</i>, and <i>soon</i>; but, when I say of <i>some sort</i>, I do not mean of Lord +John Russell’s sort; I do not mean a reform in the Lopez way. In short, +what I want is, to see the <i>men</i> changed. I want to see <i>other men</i> in +the House; and as to <i>who</i> those other men should be, I really should +not be very nice. I have seen the Tierneys, the Bankeses, the +Wilberforces, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> Michael Angelo Taylors, the Lambs, the Lowthers, the +Davis Giddies, the Sir John Sebrights, the Sir Francis Burdetts, the +Hobhouses, old or young, Whitbreads the same, the Lord Johns and the +Lord Williams and the Lord Henries and the Lord Charleses, and, in +short, all <i>the whole family</i>; I have seen them all there, all the same +faces and names, all my life time; I see that neither adjournment nor +prorogation nor dissolution makes any change in <i>the men</i>; and, caprice +let it be if you like, I want to see a change <i>in the men</i>. These have +done enough in all conscience; or, at least, they have done enough to +satisfy me. I want to see some fresh faces, and to hear a change of some +sort or other in the sounds. A “<i>hear, hear</i>,” coming everlastingly from +the same mouths, is what I, for my part, am tired of.</p> + +<p>I am aware that this is not what the “<i>great reformers</i>” in the House +mean. They mean, on the contrary, no such thing as a change of men. They +mean that <i>Lopez</i> should sit there for ever; or, at least, till +succeeded by a legitimate heir. I believe that Sir Francis Burdett, for +instance, has not the smallest idea of an Act of Parliament ever being +made without his assistance, if he chooses to assist, which is not very +frequently the case. I believe that he looks upon a seat in the House as +being his property; and that the other seat is, and ought to be, held as +a sort of leasehold or copyhold under him. My idea of reform, therefore; +my change of faces and of names and of sounds will appear quite horrible +to him. However, I think the nation begins to be very much of my way of +thinking; and this I am very sure of, that we shall never see that +change in the management of affairs, which we most of us want to see, +unless there be a pretty complete change of men.</p> + +<p>Some people will blame me for speaking out so broadly upon this subject. +But I think it the best way to disguise nothing; to do what is <i>right</i>; +to be sincere; and to let come what will.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Godalming, November 26 to 28.</i></p> + +<p>I came here to meet my son, who was to return to London when we had done +our business.—The turnips are pretty good all over the country, except +upon the very thin soils on the chalk. At Thursley they are very good, +and so they are upon all these nice light and good lands round about +Godalming.</p> + +<p>This is a very pretty country. You see few prettier spots than this. The +chain of little hills that run along to the South and South-East of +Godalming, and the soil, which is a good loam upon a sand-stone bottom, +run down on the South side, into what is called the <i>Weald</i>. This Weald +is a bed of clay, in which nothing grows well but oak trees. It is first +the Weald of Surrey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> and then the Weald of Sussex. It runs along on the +South of Dorking, Reigate, Bletchingley, Godstone, and then winds away +down into Kent. In no part of it, as far as I have observed, do the oaks +grow finer than between the sand-hill on the South of Godstone and a +place called Fellbridge, where the county of Surrey terminates on the +road to East Grinstead.</p> + +<p>At Godalming we heard some account of a lawsuit between Mr. Holme Sumner +and his tenant, Mr. Nash; but the particulars I must reserve till I have +them in black and white.</p> + +<p>In all parts of the country, I hear of landlords that begin to <i>squeak</i>, +which is a certain proof that they begin to feel the bottom of their +tenants’ pockets. No man can pay rent; I mean any rent at all, except +out of capital; or, except under some peculiar circumstances, such as +having a farm near a spot where the fundholders are building houses. +When I was in Hampshire, I heard of terrible breakings up in the Isle of +Wight. They say, that the general rout is very near at hand there. I +heard of one farmer, who held a farm at seven hundred pounds a-year, who +paid his rent annually, and punctually, who had, of course, seven +hundred pounds to pay to his landlord last Michaelmas; but who, before +Michaelmas came, thrashed out and sold (the harvest being so early) the +whole of his corn; sold off his stock, bit by bit; got the very goods +out of his house, leaving only a bed and some trifling things; sailed +with a fair wind over to France with his family; put his mother-in-law +into the house to keep possession of the house and farm, and to prevent +the landlord from entering upon the land for a year or better, unless he +would pay to the mother-in-law a certain sum of money! Doubtless the +landlord had already sucked away about three or four times seven hundred +pounds from this farmer. He would not be able to enter upon his farm +without a process that would cost him some money, and without the farm +being pretty well stocked with thistles and docks, and perhaps laid half +to common. Farmers on the coast opposite France are not so firmly +bounden as those in the interior. Some hundreds of these will have +carried their allegiance, their capital (what they have left), and their +skill, to go and grease the fat sow, our old friends the Bourbons. I +hear of a sharp, greedy, hungry shark of a landlord, who says that “some +law must be passed;” that “Parliament must do something to prevent +this!” There is a pretty fool for you! There is a great jackass (I beg +the real jackass’s pardon), to imagine that the people at Westminster +can do anything to prevent the French from suffering people to come with +their money to settle in France! This fool does not know, perhaps, that +there are Members of Parliament that live in France more than they do in +England. I have heard of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> one, who not only lives there, but carries on +vineyards there, and is never absent from them, except when he comes +over “to attend to his duties in Parliament.” He perhaps sells his wine +at the same time, and that being genuine, doubtless brings him a good +price; so that the occupations harmonize together very well. The Isle of +Wight must be rather peculiarly distressed; for it was the scene of +monstrous expenditure. When the <i>pure</i> Whigs were in power, in 1806, it +was proved to them and to the Parliament, that in several instances, <i>a +barn</i> in the Isle of Wight was rented by the “envy of surrounding +nations” for more money than the rest of the whole farm! These barns +were wanted as <i>barracks</i>; and, indeed, such things were carried on in +that Island as never could have been carried on under anything that was +not absolutely “the admiration of the world.” These sweet pickings, +caused, doubtless, a great rise in the rent of the farms; so that, in +this Island, there is not only the depression of price, and a greater +depression than anywhere else, but also the loss of the pickings, and +these together leave the tenants but this simple choice; beggary or +flight; and as most of them have had a pretty deal of capital, and will +be likely to have some left as yet, they will, as they perceive the +danger, naturally flee for succour to the Bourbons. This is, indeed, +something new in the History of English Agriculture; and were not Mr. +Canning so positive to the contrary, one would almost imagine that the +thing which has produced it does not work so very well. However, that +gentleman seems resolved to prevent us, by his <i>King of Bohemia</i> and his +two <i>Red Lions</i>, from having any change in this thing; and therefore the +landlords, in the Isle of Wight, as well as elsewhere, must make the +best of the matter.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>November 29.</i></p> + +<p>Went on to Guildford, where I slept. Everybody, that has been from +Godalming to Guildford, knows, that there is hardly another such a +pretty four miles in all England. The road is good; the soil is good; +the houses are neat; the people are neat: the hills, the woods, the +meadows, all are beautiful. Nothing wild and bold, to be sure, but +exceedingly pretty; and it is almost impossible to ride along these four +miles without feelings of pleasure, though you have rain for your +companion, as it happened to be with me.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Dorking, November 30.</i></p> + +<p>I came over the high hill on the south of Guildford, and came down to +Chilworth, and up the valley to Albury. I noticed, in my first Rural +Ride, this beautiful valley, its hangers, its meadows, its hop-gardens, +and its ponds. This valley of Chilworth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> has great variety, and is very +pretty; but after seeing Hawkley, every other place loses in point of +beauty and interest. This pretty valley of Chilworth has a run of water +which comes out of the high hills, and which, occasionally, spreads into +a pond; so that there is in fact a series of ponds connected by this run +of water. This valley, which seems to have been created by a bountiful +providence, as one of the choicest retreats of man; which seems formed +for a scene of innocence and happiness, has been, by ungrateful man, so +perverted as to make it instrumental in effecting two of the most +damnable of purposes; in carrying into execution two of the most +damnable inventions that ever sprang from the minds of man under the +influence of the devil! namely, the making of <i>gunpowder</i> and of +<i>banknotes</i>! Here in this tranquil spot, where the nightingales are to +be heard earlier and later in the year than in any other part of +England; where the first bursting of the buds is seen in Spring, where +no rigour of seasons can ever be felt; where everything seems formed for +precluding the very thought of wickedness; here has the devil fixed on +as one of the seats of his grand manufactory; and perverse and +ungrateful man not only lends him his aid, but lends it cheerfully! As +to the gunpowder, indeed, we might get over that. In some cases that may +be innocently, and, when it sends the lead at the hordes that support a +tyrant, meritoriously employed. The alders and the willows, therefore, +one can see, without so much regret, turned into powder by the waters of +this valley; but, the <i>Bank-notes</i>! To think that the springs which God +has commanded to flow from the sides of these happy hills, for the +comfort and the delight of man; to think that these springs should be +perverted into means of spreading misery over a whole nation; and that, +too, under the base and hypocritical pretence of promoting its <i>credit</i> +and maintaining its <i>honour</i> and its <i>faith</i>! There was one +circumstance, indeed, that served to mitigate the melancholy excited by +these reflections; namely, that a part of these springs have, at times, +assisted in turning rags into <i>Registers</i>! Somewhat cheered by the +thought of this, but, still, in a more melancholy mood than I had been +for a long while, I rode on with my friend towards <i>Albury</i>, up the +valley, the sand-hills on one side of us and the chalk-hills on the +other. Albury is a little village consisting of a few houses, with a +large house or two near it. At the end of the village we came to a park, +which is the residence of Mr. Drummond.—Having heard a great deal of +this park, and of the gardens, I wished very much to see them. My way to +Dorking lay through Shire, and it went along on the outside of the park. +I <i>guessed</i>, as the Yankees say, that there must be a way through the +park to Shire; and I fell upon the scheme of going into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> park as far +as Mr. Drummond’s house, and then asking his leave to go out at the +other end of it. This scheme, though pretty bare-faced, succeeded very +well. It is true that I was aware that I had not a <i>Norman</i> to deal +with; or, I should not have ventured upon the experiment. I sent in word +that, having got into the park, I should be exceedingly obliged to Mr. +Drummond if he would let me go out of it on the side next to Shire. He +not only granted this request, but, in the most obliging manner, +permitted us to ride all about the park, and to see his gardens, which, +without any exception, are, to my fancy, the prettiest in England; that +is to say, that I ever saw in England.</p> + +<p>They say that these gardens were laid out for one of the Howards, in the +reign of Charles the Second, by Mr. Evelyn, who wrote the <i>Sylva</i>. The +mansion-house, which is by no means magnificent, stands on a little flat +by the side of the parish church, having a steep, but not lofty, hill +rising up on the south side of it. It looks right across the gardens, +which lie on the slope of a hill which runs along at about a quarter of +a mile distant from the front of the house. The gardens, of course, lie +facing the south. At the back of them, under the hill, is a high wall; +and there is also a wall at each end, running from north to south. +Between the house and the gardens there is a very beautiful run of +water, with a sort of little wild narrow sedgy meadow. The gardens are +separated from this by a hedge, running along from east to west. From +this hedge there go up the hill, at right angles, several other hedges, +which divide the land here into distinct gardens, or orchards. Along at +the top of these there goes a yew hedge, or, rather, a row of small yew +trees, the trunks of which are bare for about eight or ten feet high, +and the tops of which form one solid head of about ten feet high, while +the bottom branches come out on each side of the row about eight feet +horizontally. This hedge, or row, is <i>a quarter of a mile long</i>. There +is a nice hard sand-road under this species of umbrella; and, summer and +winter, here is a most delightful walk! Behind this row of yews, there +is a space, or garden (a quarter of a mile long you will observe) about +thirty or forty feet wide, as nearly as I can recollect. At the back of +this garden, and facing the yew-tree row, is a wall probably ten feet +high, which forms the breastwork of a <i>terrace</i>; and it is this terrace +which is the most beautiful thing that I ever saw in the gardening way. +It is a quarter of a mile long, and, I believe, between thirty and forty +feet wide; of the finest green sward, and as level as a die.</p> + +<p>The wall, along at the back of this terrace, stands close against the +hill, which you see with the trees and underwood upon it rising above +the wall. So that here is the finest spot for fruit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> trees that can +possibly be imagined. At both ends of this garden the trees in the park +are lofty, and there are a pretty many of them. The hills on the south +side of the mansion-house are covered with lofty trees, chiefly beeches +and chestnut: so that a warmer, a more sheltered, spot than this, it +seems to be impossible to imagine. Observe, too, how judicious it was to +plant the row of yew trees at the distance which I have described from +the wall which forms the breastwork of the terrace: that wall, as well +as the wall at the back of the terrace, are covered with fruit trees, +and the yew tree row is just high enough to defend the former from +winds, without injuring it by its shade. In the middle of the wall, at +the back of the terrace, there is a recess about thirty feet in front +and twenty feet deep, and here is a <i>basin</i>, into which rises a spring +coming out of the hill. The overflowings of this basin go under the +terrace and down across the garden into the rivulet below. So that here +is water at the top, across the middle, and along at the bottom of this +garden. Take it altogether, this, certainly, is the prettiest garden +that I ever beheld. There was taste and sound judgment at every step in +the laying out of this place. Everywhere utility and convenience is +combined with beauty. The terrace is by far the finest thing of the sort +that I ever saw, and the whole thing altogether is a great compliment to +the taste of the times in which it was formed. I know there are some +ill-natured persons who will say that I want a revolution that would +turn Mr. Drummond out of this place and put me into it. Such persons +will hardly believe me, but upon my word I do not. From everything that +I hear, Mr. Drummond is very worthy of possessing it himself, seeing +that he is famed for his justice and his kindness <i>towards the labouring +classes</i>, who, God knows, have very few friends amongst the rich. If +what I have heard be true, Mr. Drummond is singularly good in this way; +for, instead of hunting down an unfortunate creature who has exposed +himself to the lash of the law; instead of regarding a crime committed +as proof of an inherent disposition to commit crime; instead of +rendering the poor creatures desperate by this species of +<i>proscription</i>, and forcing them on to the <i>gallows</i>, merely because +they have once merited the <i>Bridewell</i>; instead of this, which is the +common practice throughout the country, he rather seeks for such +unfortunate creatures to take them into his employ, and thus to reclaim +them, and to make them repent of their former courses. If this be true, +and I am credibly informed that it is, I know of no man in England so +worthy of his estate. There may be others to act in like manner; but I +neither know nor have heard of any other. I had, indeed, heard of this, +at Alresford in Hampshire; and, to say the truth, it was this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +circumstance, and this alone, which induced me to ask the favour of Mr. +Drummond to go through his park. But, besides that Mr. Drummond is very +worthy of his estate, what chance should I have of getting it if it came +to a <i>scramble</i>? There are others who like pretty gardens as well as I; +and if the question were to be decided according to the law of the +strongest, or, as the French call it, by the <i>droit du plus fort</i>, my +chance would be but a very poor one. The truth is, that you hear nothing +but <i>fools</i> talk about revolutions <i>made for the purpose of getting +possession of people’s property</i>. They never have their spring in any +such motives. They are <i>caused by Governments themselves</i>; and though +they do sometimes cause a new distribution of property to a certain +extent, there never was, perhaps, one single man in this world that had +anything to do, worth speaking of, in the causing of a revolution, that +did it with any such view. But what a strange thing it is, that there +should be men at this time to fear <i>the loss of estates</i> as the +consequence of a convulsive revolution; at this time, when the estates +are actually passing away from the owners before their eyes, and that, +too, in consequence of measures which have been adopted for what has +been called the <i>preservation of property</i>, against the designs of +Jacobins and Radicals! Mr. Drummond has, I dare say, the means of +preventing his estate from being actually taken away from him; but I am +quite certain that that estate, except as a place to live at, is not +worth to him, at this moment, one single farthing. What could a +revolution do for him <i>more</i> than this? If one could suppose the power +of doing what they like placed in the hands of the labouring classes; if +one could suppose such a thing as this, which never was yet seen; if one +could suppose anything so monstrous as that of a revolution that would +leave no public authority anywhere; even in such a case, it is against +nature to suppose that the people would come and turn him out of his +house and leave him without food; and yet that they must do, to make +him, as a landholder, worse off than he is; or, at least, worse off than +he must be in a very short time. I saw, in the gardens at Albury Park, +what I never saw before in all my life; that is, some plants of the +<i>American Cranberry</i>. I never saw them in America; for there they grow +in those swamps, into which I never happened to go at the time of their +bearing fruit. I may have seen the plant, but I do not know that I ever +did. Here it not only grows, but bears; and there are still some +cranberries on the plants now. I tasted them, and they appeared to me to +have just the same taste as those in America. They grew in a long bed +near the stream of water which I have spoken about, and therefore it is +clear that they may be cultivated with great ease in this country. The +road,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> through Shire along to Dorking, runs up the valley between the +chalk-hills and the sand-hills; the chalk to our left and the sand to +our right. This is called the Home Dale. It begins at Reigate and +terminates at Shalford Common, down below Chilworth.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Reigate, December 1.</i></p> + +<p>I set off this morning with an intention to go across the Weald to +Worth; but the red rising of the sun and the other appearances of the +morning admonished me to keep upon <i>high ground</i>; so I crossed the Mole, +went along under Boxhill, through Betchworth and Buckland, and got to +this place just at the beginning of a day of as heavy rain, and as +boisterous wind, as, I think, I have ever known in England. <i>In</i> one +rotten borough, one of the most rotten too, and with another still more +rotten <i>up upon the hill</i>, in Reigate, and close by Gatton, how can I +help reflecting, how can my mind be otherwise than filled with +reflections on the marvellous deeds of the Collective Wisdom of the +nation! At present, however (for I want to get to bed) I will notice +only one of those deeds, and that one yet “<i>incohete</i>,” a word which Mr. +Canning seems to have coined for the <i>nonce</i> (which is not a coined +word), when Lord Castlereagh (who cut his throat the other day) was +accused of making a <i>swap</i>, as the horse-jockeys call it, of a +<i>writer-ship</i> against a <i>seat</i>. It is <i>barter</i>, <i>truck</i>, <i>change</i>, +<i>dicker</i>, as the Yankees call it, but as our horse-jockeys call it +<i>swap</i>, or <i>chop</i>. The case was this: the chop had been <i>begun</i>; it had +been entered on; but had not been completed; just as two jockeys may +have <i>agreed</i> on a chop and yet not actually <i>delivered</i> the horses to +one another. Therefore, Mr. Canning said that the act was <i>incohete</i>, +which means, without cohesion, without consequence. Whereupon the House +entered on its Journals a solemn resolution, that it was its duty to +<i>watch over its purity with the greatest care</i>; but that the said act +being “<i>incohete</i>” the House did not think it necessary to proceed any +further in the matter! It unfortunately happened, however, that in a +very few days afterwards—that is to say, on the memorable eleventh of +June, 1809—Mr. Maddocks accused the very same Castlereagh of having +actually sold and delivered a seat to Quintin Dick for three thousand +pounds. The accuser said he was ready to bring to the bar proof of the +fact; and he moved that he might be permitted so to do. Now, then, what +did Mr. Canning say? Why, he said that the reformers were a low degraded +crew, and he called upon the House to make a stand against democratical +encroachment? And the House did not listen to him, surely? Yes, but it +did! And it voted by a thundering majority, that it would not hear the +evidence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> And this vote was, by the leader of the Whigs, justified upon +the ground that the deed complained of by Mr. Maddocks was according to +a practice which was as notorious as <i>the sun at noon day</i>. So much for +the word “<i>incohete</i>,” which has led me into this long digression. The +deed, or achievement, of which I am now about to speak is not the +Marriage Act; for that is <i>cohete</i> enough: that has had plenty of +consequences. It is the New Turnpike Act, which, though passed, is as +yet “incohete;” and is not to be cohete for some time yet to come. I +hope it will become <i>cohete</i> during the time that Parliament is sitting, +for otherwise it will have <i>cohesion</i> pretty nearly equal to that of the +Marriage Act. In the first place this Act makes <i>chalk</i> and <i>lime</i> +everywhere liable to turnpike duty, which in many cases they were not +before. This is a monstrous oppression upon the owners and occupiers of +clay lands; and comes just at the time, too, when they are upon the +point, many of them, of being driven out of cultivation, or thrown up to +the parish, by other burdens. But it is the provision with regard to the +<i>wheels</i> which will create the greatest injury, distress and confusion. +The wheels which this law orders to be used on turnpike roads, on pain +of enormous toll, cannot be used on the <i>cross-roads</i> throughout more +than nine-tenths of the kingdom. To make these roads and the +<i>drove-lanes</i> (the private roads of farms) fit for the cylindrical +wheels described in this Bill, would cost a pound an acre, upon an +average, upon all the land in England, and especially in the counties +where the land is poorest. It would, in these counties, cost a tenth +part of the worth of the fee-simple of the land. And this is enacted, +too, at a time when the wagons, the carts, and all the dead stock of a +farm; when the whole is falling into a state of irrepair; when all is +actually perishing for want of means in the farmer to keep it in repair! +This is the time that the Lord Johns and the Lord Henries and the rest +of that Honourable body have thought proper to enact that the whole of +the farmers in England shall have new wheels to their wagons and carts, +or, that they shall be punished by the payment of heavier tolls! It is +useless, perhaps, to say anything about the matter; but I could not help +noticing a thing which has created such a general alarm amongst the +farmers in every part of the country where I have recently been.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Worth (Sussex),<br />December 2.</i></p> + +<p>I set off from Reigate this morning, and after a pleasant ride of ten +miles, got here to breakfast.—Here, as everywhere else, the farmers +appear to think that their last hour is approaching.—Mr. <i>Charles +B——’s farms</i>; I believe it is <i>Sir</i> Charles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> B——; and I should be +sorry to withhold from him his title, though, being said to be a very +good sort of a man, he might, perhaps, be able to shift without it: this +gentleman’s farms are subject of conversation here. The matter is +curious in itself, and very well worthy of attention, as illustrative of +the present state of things. These farms were, last year, taken into +hand by the owner. This was stated in the public papers about a +twelvemonth ago. It was said that his tenants would not take the farms +again at the rent which he wished to have, and that therefore he took +the farms into hand. These farms lie somewhere down in the west of +Sussex. In the month of August last I saw (and I think in one of the +Brighton newspapers) a paragraph stating that Mr. B——, who had taken +his farms into hand the Michaelmas before, had already got in his +harvest, and that he had had excellent crops! This was a sort of +bragging paragraph; and there was an observation added which implied +that the farmers were great fools for not having taken the farms! We now +hear that Mr. B—— has let his farms. But, now, mark how he has let +them. The custom in Sussex is this: when a tenant quits a farm, he +receives payment, according to valuation, for what are called the +dressings, the half-dressings, for seeds and lays, and for the growth of +underwood in coppices and hedge-rows; for the dung in the yards; and, in +short, for whatever he leaves behind him, which, if he had stayed, would +have been of value to him. The dressings and half-dressings include not +only the manure that has been recently put into the land, but also the +summer ploughings; and, in short, everything which has been done to the +land, and the benefit of which has not been taken out again by the +farmer. This is a good custom; because it ensures good tillage to the +land. It ensures, also, a fair start to the new tenant; but then, +observe, it requires some money, which the new tenant must pay down +before he can begin, and therefore this custom presumes a pretty deal of +capital to be possessed by farmers. Bearing <i>these</i> general remarks in +mind, we shall see, in a moment, the case of Mr. B——. If my +information be correct, he has let his farms: he has found tenants for +his farms; but not tenants to pay him anything for dressings, +half-dressings, and the rest. He was obliged to pay the out-going +tenants for these things. Mind that! He was obliged to pay them +according to the custom of the country; but he has got nothing of this +sort from his in-coming tenants! It must be a poor farm, indeed, where +the valuation does not amount to some hundreds of pounds. So that here +is a pretty sum sunk by Mr. B——; and yet even on conditions like +these, he has, I dare say, been glad to get his farms off his hands. +There can be very little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> security for the payment of rent where the +tenant pays no in-coming; but even if he get no rent at all, Mr. B—— +has done well to get his farms off his hands. Now, do I wish to +insinuate that Mr. B—— asked too much for his farms last year, and +that he wished to squeeze the last shilling out of his farmers? By no +means. He bears the character of a mild, just, and very considerate man, +by no means greedy, but the contrary. A man very much beloved by his +tenants; or, at least, deserving it. But the truth is, he could not +believe it possible that his farms were so much fallen in value. He +could not believe it possible that his estate had been taken away from +him by the legerdemain of the Pitt System, which he had been supporting +all his life: so that he thought, and very naturally thought, that his +old tenants were endeavouring to impose upon him, and therefore resolved +to take his farms into hand. Experience has shown him that farms yield +no rent, in the hands of the landlord at least; and therefore he has put +them into the hands of other people. Mr. B——, like Mr. Western, has +not read the <i>Register</i>. If he had, he would have taken any trifle from +his old tenants, rather than let them go. But he surely might have read +the speech of his neighbour and friend Mr. Huskisson, made in the House +of Commons in 1814, in which that gentleman said that, with wheat at +less than double the price that it bore before the war, it would be +impossible for any rent at all to be paid. Mr. B—— might have read +this; and he might, having so many opportunities, have asked Mr. +Huskisson for an explanation of it. This gentleman is now a great +advocate for <i>national faith</i>; but may not Mr. B—— ask him whether +there be no faith to be kept with the landlord? However, if I am not +deceived, Mr. B—— or Sir Charles B—— (for I really do not know which +it is) is a member of the Collective! If this be the case he has had +something to do with the thing himself; and he must muster up as much as +he can of that “patience” which is so strongly recommended by our great +new state doctor Mr. Canning.</p> + +<p>I cannot conclude my remarks on this Rural Ride without noticing the new +sort of language that I hear everywhere made use of with regard to the +parsons, but which language I do not care to repeat. These men may say +that I keep company with none but those who utter “sedition and +blasphemy;” and if they do say so, there is just as much veracity in +their words as I believe there to be charity and sincerity in the hearts +of the greater part of them. One thing is certain; indeed, two things: +the first is, that almost the whole of the persons that I have conversed +with are farmers; and the second is, that they are in this respect all +of one mind! It was my intention, at one time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> to go along the south of +Hampshire to Portsmouth, Fareham, Botley, Southampton, and across the +New Forest into Dorsetshire. My affairs made me turn from Hambledon this +way; but I had an opportunity of hearing something about the +neighbourhood of Botley. Take any one considerable circle where you know +everybody, and the condition of that circle will teach you how to judge +pretty correctly of the condition of every other part of the country. I +asked about the farmers of my old neighbourhood, one by one; and the +answers I received only tended to confirm me in the opinion that the +whole race will be destroyed; and that a new race will come, and enter +upon farms without capital and without stock; be a sort of bailiffs to +the landlords for a while, and then, if this system go on, bailiffs to +the Government as trustee for the fundholders. If the account which I +have received of Mr. B——’s new mode of letting be true, here is one +step further than has been before taken. In all probability the stock +upon the farms belongs to him, to be paid for when the tenant can pay +for it. Who does not see to what this tends? The man must be blind +indeed who cannot see confiscation here; and can he be much less than +blind if he imagine that relief is to be obtained by the <i>patience</i> +recommended by Mr. Canning?</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>Thus, Sir, have I led you about the country. All sorts of things have I +talked of, to be sure; but there are very few of these things which have +not their interest of one sort or another. At the end of a hundred miles +or two of travelling, stopping here and there; talking freely with +everybody; hearing what gentlemen, farmers, tradesmen, journeymen, +labourers, women, girls, boys, and all have to say; reasoning with some, +laughing with others, and observing all that passes; and especially if +your manner be such as to remove every kind of reserve from every class; +at the end of a tramp like this, you get impressed upon your mind a true +picture, not only of the state of the country, but of the state of the +people’s minds throughout the country. And, Sir, whether you believe me +or not, I have to tell you that it is my decided opinion that the +people, high and low, with one unanimous voice, except where they live +upon the taxes, <i>impute their calamities to the House of Commons</i>. +Whether they be right or wrong is not so much the question in this case. +That such is the fact I am certain; and having no power to make any +change myself, I must leave the making or the refusing of the change to +those who have the power. I repeat, and with perfect sincerity, that it +would give me as much pain as it would give to any man in England, to +see a change <i>in the form of the Government</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> With <i>King</i>, <i>Lords</i>, and +<i>Commons</i>, this nation enjoyed many ages of happiness and of glory. +<i>Without Commons</i>, my opinion is, it never can again see anything but +misery and shame; and when I say Commons I <i>mean</i> Commons; and by +Commons, I mean men elected by the free voice of the untitled and +unprivileged part of the people, who, in fact as well as in law, are the +Commons of England.</p> + +<p>I am, Sir, your most obedient and most humble servant,</p> + +<p class="right">WM. COBBETT.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>JOURNAL: RIDE FROM KENSINGTON TO WORTH, IN SUSSEX.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Monday, May 5, 1823.</i></p> + +<p>From London to Reigate, through Sutton, is about as villanous a tract as +England contains. The soil is a mixture of gravel and clay, with big +yellow stones in it, sure sign of really bad land. Before you descend +the hill to go into Reigate, you pass <i>Gatton</i> (“Gatton and Old Sarum”), +which is a very rascally spot of earth. The trees are here a week later +than they are at Tooting. At Reigate they are (in order to save a few +hundred yards length of road) cutting through a hill. They have lowered +a little hill on the London side of Sutton. Thus is the money of the +country actually thrown away: the produce of labour is taken from the +industrious, and given to the idlers. Mark the process; the town of +Brighton, in Sussex, 50 miles from the Wen, is on the seaside, and is +thought by the stock-jobbers to afford a <i>salubrious air</i>. It is so +situated that a coach, which leaves it not very early in the morning, +reaches London by noon; and, starting to go back in two hours and a half +afterwards, reaches Brighton not very late at night. Great parcels of +stock-jobbers stay at Brighton with the women and children. They skip +backward and forward on the coaches, and actually carry on +stock-jobbing, in ’Change Alley, though they reside at Brighton. This +place is, besides, a place of great resort with the <i>whiskered</i> gentry. +There are not less than about twenty coaches that leave the Wen every +day for this place; and there being three or four different roads, there +is a great rivalship for the custom. This sets the people to work to +shorten and to level the roads; and here you see hundreds of men and +horses constantly at work to make pleasant and quick travelling for the +Jews and jobbers. The Jews and jobbers pay the turnpikes, to be sure; +but they get the money from the land and labourer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> They drain these, +from John-a-Groat’s House to the Land’s End, and they lay out some of +the money on the Brighton roads! “Vast <i>improvements</i>, ma’am!” as Mrs. +<i>Scrip</i> said to Mrs. <i>Omnium</i>, in speaking of the new enclosures on the +villanous heaths of Bagshot and Windsor.—Now, some will say, “Well, it +is only a change from hand to hand.” Very true, and if Daddy Coke of +Norfolk like the change, I know not why I should dislike it. More and +more new houses are building as you leave the Wen to come on this road. +<i>Whence come</i> the means of building these new houses and keeping the +inhabitants? Do they come out of <i>trade</i> and <i>commerce</i>? Oh, no! they +come from <i>the land</i>; but if Daddy Coke like this, what has any one else +to do with it? Daddy Coke and Lord Milton like “national faith;” it +would be a pity to disappoint their liking. The best of this is, it will +bring <i>down to the very dirt</i>; it will bring down their faces to the +very earth, and fill their mouths full of sand; it will thus pull down a +set of the basest lick-spittles of power and the most intolerable +tyrants towards their inferiors in wealth that the sun ever shone on. It +is time that these degenerate dogs were swept away at any rate. The +Blackthorns are in full bloom, and make a grand show. When you quit +Reigate to go towards Crawley, you enter on what is called the <i>Weald of +Surrey</i>. It is a level country, and the soil is a very, very strong +loam, with clay beneath to a great depth. The fields are small, and +about a third of the land covered with oak-woods and coppice-woods. This +is a country of wheat and beans; the latter of which are about three +inches high, the former about seven, and both looking very well. I did +not see a field of bad-looking wheat from Reigate-hill foot to Crawley, +nor from Crawley across to this place, where, though the whole country +is but poorish, the wheat looks very well; and if this weather hold +about twelve days, we shall recover the lost time. They have been +stripping trees (taking the bark off) about five or six days. The +nightingales sing very much, which is a sign of warm weather. The +house-martins and the swallows are come in abundance; and they seldom do +come until the weather be set in for mild.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Wednesday, 7th May.</i></p> + +<p>The weather is very fine and warm; the leaves of the <i>Oaks</i> are coming +out very fast: some of the trees are nearly in half-leaf. The <i>Birches</i> +are out in leaf. I do not think that I ever saw the wheat look, take it +all together, so well as it does at this time. I see in the stiff land +no signs of worm or slug. The winter, which destroyed so many turnips, +must, at any rate, have destroyed these mischievous things. The oats +look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> well. The barley is very young; but I do not see anything amiss +with regard to it.—The land between this place and Reigate is stiff. +How the corn may be in other places I know not; but in coming down I met +with a farmer of Bedfordshire, who said that the wheat looked very well +in that county; which is not a county of clay, like the Weald of Surrey. +I saw a Southdown farmer, who told me that the wheat is good there, and +that is a fine corn-country. The bloom of the fruit trees is the finest +I ever saw in England. The pear-bloom is, at a distance, like that of +the <i>Gueldre Rose</i>; so large and bold are the bunches. The plum is +equally fine; and even the Blackthorn (which is the hedge-plum) has a +bloom finer than I ever saw it have before. It is rather <i>early</i> to +offer any opinion as to the crop of corn; but if I were compelled to bet +upon it, I would bet upon a good crop. Frosts frequently come after this +time; and if they come in May, they cause “things to come about” very +fast. But if we have no more frosts: in short, if we have, after this, a +good summer, we shall have a fine laugh at the Quakers’ and the Jews’ +press. Fifteen days’ sun will bring <i>things about</i> in reality. The wages +of labour in the country have taken a rise, and the poor-rates an +increase, since first of March. I am glad to hear that the <i>Straw +Bonnet</i> affair has excited a good deal of attention. In answer to +applications upon the subject, I have to observe, that all the +information on the subject will be published in the first week of June. +Specimens of the <i>straw</i> and <i>plat</i> will then be to be seen at No. 183, +Fleet Street.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>FROM THE (LONDON) WEN ACROSS SURREY, ACROSS THE WEST OF SUSSEX, AND INTO THE SOUTH EAST OF HAMPSHIRE.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Reigate (Surrey),<br />Saturday, 26 July, 1823.</i></p> + +<p>Came from the Wen, through Croydon. It rained nearly all the way. The +corn is good. A great deal of straw. The barley very fine; but all are +backward; and if this weather continue much longer, there must be that +“heavenly blight” for which the wise friends of “social order” are so +fervently praying. But if the wet now cease, or cease soon, what is to +become of the “poor souls of farmers” God only knows! In one article the +wishes of our wise Government appear to have been gratified to the +utmost; and that, too, without the aid of any express form of prayer. I +allude to the hops, of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> it is said that there will be, according +to all appearance, none at all! Bravo! Courage, my Lord Liverpool! This +article, at any rate, will not choak us, will not distress us, will not +make us miserable by “over-production!”—The other day a gentleman (and +a man of general good sense too) said to me: “What a deal of wet we +have: what do you think of the weather <i>now</i>?”—“More rain,” said I. +“D—n those farmers,” said he, “what luck they have! They will be as +rich as Jews!”—Incredible as this may seem, it is a fact. But, indeed, +there is no folly, if it relate to these matters, which is, now-a-days, +incredible. The hop affair is a pretty good illustration of the doctrine +of “relief” from “diminished production.” Mr. Ricardo may now call upon +any of the hop-planters for proof of the correctness of his notions. +They are ruined, for the greater part, if their all be embarked in hops. +How are they to pay rent? I saw a planter the other day who sold his +hops (Kentish) last fall for sixty shillings a hundred. The same hops +will now fetch the owner of them eight pounds, or a hundred and sixty +shillings.</p> + +<p>Thus the <i>Quaker</i> gets rich, and the poor devil of a farmer is squeezed +into a gaol. The <i>Quakers</i> carry on the far greater part of this work. +They are, as to the products of the earth, what the <i>Jews</i> are as to +gold and silver. How they profit, or, rather, the degree in which they +profit, at the expense of those who own and those who till the land, may +be guessed at if we look at their immense worth, and if we at the same +time reflect that they never work. Here is a sect of non-labourers. One +would think that their religion bound them under a curse not to work. +Some part of the people of all other sects work; sweat at work; do +something that is useful to other people; but here is a sect of buyers +and sellers. They make nothing; they cause nothing to come; they breed +as well as other sects; but they make none of the raiment or houses, and +cause none of the food to come. In order to justify some measure for +paring the nails of this grasping sect, it is enough to say of them, +which we may with perfect truth, that if all the other sects were to act +like them, <i>the community must perish</i>. This is quite enough to say of +this sect, of the monstrous privileges of whom we shall, I hope, one of +these days, see an end. If I had the dealing with them, I would soon +teach them to use the <i>spade</i> and the <i>plough</i>, and the <i>musket</i> too +when necessary.</p> + +<p>The rye along the road side is ripe enough; and some of it is reaped and +in shock. At Mearstam there is a field of cabbages, which, I was told, +belonged to Colonel Joliffe. They appear to be early Yorks, and look +very well. The rows seem to be about eighteen inches apart. There may be +from 15,000<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> to 20,000 plants to the acre; and I dare say that they will +weigh three pounds each, or more. I know of no crop of cattle food equal +to this. If they be early Yorks, they will be in perfection in October, +just when the grass is almost gone. No five acres of common grass land +will, during the year, yield cattle food equal, either in quantity or +quality, to what one acre of land in early Yorks will produce during +three months.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Worth (Sussex),<br />Wednesday, 30 July.</i></p> + +<p>Worth is ten miles from Reigate on the Brighton-road, which goes through +Horley. Reigate has the Surrey chalk hills close to it on the North, and +sand-hills along on its South, and nearly close to it also. As soon as +you are over the sand-hills, you come into a country of <i>deep</i> clay; and +this is called the <i>Weald</i> of Surrey. This Weald winds away round, +towards the West, into Sussex, and towards the East, into Kent. In this +part of Surrey it is about eight miles wide, from North to South, and +ends just as you enter the parish of Worth, which is the first parish +(in this part) in the county of Sussex. All across the Weald (the strong +and stiff clays) the corn looks very well. I found it looking well from +the Wen to Reigate, on the villanous spewy soil between the Wen and +Croydon; on the chalk from Croydon to near Reigate; on the loam, sand +and chalk (for there are all three) in the valley of Reigate; but not +quite so well on the sand. On the clay all the corn looks well. The +wheat, where it has begun to die, is dying of a good colour, not black, +nor in any way that indicates blight. It is, however, all backward. Some +few fields of white wheat are changing colour; but for the greater part +it is quite green; and though a sudden change of weather might make a +great alteration in a short time, it does appear that the harvest must +be later than usual. When I say this, however, I by no means wish to be +understood as saying that it must be so late as to be injurious to the +crop. In 1816, I saw a barley-rick making in November. In 1821, I saw +wheat uncut, in Suffolk, in October. If we were now to have good, +bright, hot weather, for as long a time as we have had wet, the whole of +the corn in these Southern counties would be housed, and great part of +it threshed out, by the 10th of September. So that all depends on the +weather, which appears to be clearing up in spite of Saint Swithin. This +Saint’s birth-day is the 15th of July; and it is said that if rain fall +on his birth-day it will fall on <i>forty days</i> successively. But I +believe that you reckon retrospectively as well as prospectively; and if +this be the case, we may, this time, escape the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> extreme unction; for it +began to rain on the 26th of June; so that it rained 19 days before the +15th of July; and as it has rained 16 days since, it has rained, in the +whole, 35 days, and, of course, five days more will satisfy this wet +soul of a saint. Let him take his five days; and there will be plenty of +time for us to have wheat at four shillings a bushel. But if the Saint +will give us no credit for the 19 days, and will insist upon his forty +daily drenchings <i>after</i> the fifteenth of July; if he will have such a +soaking as this at the celebration of the anniversary of his birth, let +us hope that he is prepared with a miracle for feeding us, and with a +still more potent miracle for keeping the farmers from riding over us, +filled, as Lord Liverpool thinks their pockets will be, by the +annihilation of their crops!</p> + +<p>The upland meadow grass is, a great deal of it, not cut yet along the +Weald. So that in these parts there has been not a great deal of hay +spoiled. The clover hay was got in very well; and only a small part of +the meadow hay has been spoiled in this part of the country. This is not +the case, however, in other parts, where the grass was forwarder, and +where it was cut before the rain came. Upon the whole, however, much hay +does not appear to have been spoiled as yet. The farmers along here, +have, most of them, begun to cut to-day. This has been a fine day; and +it is clear that they expect it to continue. I saw but two pieces of +Swedish turnips between the Wen and Reigate, but one at Reigate, and but +one between Reigate and Worth. During a like distance in Norfolk or +Suffolk, you would see two or three hundred fields of this sort of root. +Those that I do see here look well. The white turnips are just up, or +just sown, though there are some which have rough leaves already. This +Weald is, indeed, not much of land for turnips; but from what I see +here, and from what I know of the weather, I think that the turnips must +be generally good. The after-grass is surprisingly fine. The lands which +have had hay cut and carried from them are, I think, more <i>beautiful</i> +than I ever saw them before. It should, however, always be borne in mind +that this <i>beautiful</i> grass is by no means the <i>best</i>. An acre of this +grass will not make a quarter part so much butter as an acre of +rusty-looking pasture, made rusty by the rays of the sun. Sheep on the +commons <i>die</i> of the <i>beautiful</i> grass produced by long-continued rains +at this time of the year. Even geese, hardy as they are, die from the +same cause. The rain will give quantity; but without sun the quality +must be poor at the best. The woods have not shot much this year. The +cold winds, the frosts, that we had up to Midsummer, prevented the trees +from growing much. They are beginning to shoot now; but the wood must be +imperfectly ripened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>I met at Worth a beggar, who told me, in consequence of my asking where +he belonged, that he was born in South Carolina. I found, at last, that +he was born in the English army, during the American rebel-war; that he +became a soldier himself; and that it had been his fate to serve under +the Duke of York, in Holland; under General Whitelock, at Buenos Ayres; +under Sir John Moore, at Corunna; and under “the Greatest Captain,” at +Talavera! This poor fellow did not seem to be at all aware that in the +last case he partook in <i>a victory</i>! He had never before heard of its +being a victory. He, poor fool, thought that it was <i>a defeat</i>. “Why,” +said he, “we <i>ran away</i>, Sir.” Oh, yes! said I, and so you did +afterwards, perhaps, in Portugal, when Massena was at your heels; but it +is only in certain cases that running away is a mark of being defeated; +or, rather, it is only with certain commanders. A matter of much more +interest to us, however, is that the wars for “social order,” not +forgetting Gatton and Old Sarum, have filled the country with beggars, +who have been, or who pretend to have been, soldiers and sailors. For +want of looking well into this matter, many good and just, and even +sensible men are led to give to these army and navy beggars what they +refuse to others. But if reason were consulted, she would ask what +pretensions these have to a preference? She would see in them men who +had become soldiers or sailors because they wished to live without that +labour by which other men are content to get their bread. She would ask +the soldier beggar whether he did not voluntarily engage to perform +services such as were performed at Manchester; and if she pressed him +for <i>the motive</i> to this engagement, could he assign any motive other +than that of wishing to live without work upon the fruit of the work of +other men? And why should reason not be listened to? Why should she not +be consulted in every such case? And if she were consulted, which would +she tell you was the most worthy of your compassion, the man who, no +matter from what cause, is become a beggar after forty years spent in +the raising of food and raiment for others as well as for himself; or +the man who, no matter again from what cause, is become a beggar after +forty years living upon the labour of others, and during the greater +part of which time he has been living in a barrack, there kept for +purposes explained by Lord Palmerston, and always in readiness to answer +those purposes? As to not giving to beggars, I think there is a law +against giving! However, give to them people will, as long as they ask. +Remove the <i>cause</i> of the beggary, and we shall see no more beggars; but +as long as there are <i>boroughmongers</i> there will be beggars enough.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Horsham (Sussex),<br />Thursday, 31 July.</i></p> + +<p>I left Worth this afternoon about 5 o’clock, and am got here to sleep, +intending to set off for Petworth in the morning, with a view of +crossing the South Downs and then going into Hampshire through Havant, +and along at the southern foot of Portsdown Hill, where I shall see the +earliest corn in England. From Worth you come to Crawley along some +pretty good land; you then turn to the left and go two miles along the +road from the Wen to Brighton; then you turn to the right, and go over +six of the worst miles in England, which miles terminate but a few +hundred yards before you enter Horsham. The first two of these miserable +miles go through the estate of Lord Erskine. It was a bare heath, with +here and there, in the better parts of it, some scrubby birch. It has +been, in part, planted with fir-trees, which are as ugly as the heath +was: and, in short, it is a most villanous tract. After quitting it, you +enter a forest; but a most miserable one; and this is followed by a +large common, now enclosed, cut up, disfigured, spoiled, and the +labourers all driven from its skirts. I have seldom travelled over eight +miles so well calculated to fill the mind with painful reflections. The +ride has, however, this in it: that the ground is pretty much elevated, +and enables you to look about you. You see the Surrey hills away to the +North; Hindhead and Blackdown to the North West and West; and the South +Downs from the West to the East. The sun was shining upon all these, +though it was cloudy where I was. The soil is a poor, miserable, +clayey-looking sand, with a sort of sandstone underneath. When you get +down into this town, you are again in the Weald of Sussex. I believe +that <i>Weald</i> meant <i>clay</i>, or low, wet, stiff land. This is a very nice, +solid, country town. Very clean, as all the towns in Sussex are. The +people very clean. The Sussex women are very nice in their dress and in +their houses. The men and boys wear smock-frocks more than they do in +some counties. When country people do not they always look dirty and +comfortless. This has been a pretty good day; but there was a little +rain in the afternoon; so that St. Swithin keeps on as yet, at any rate. +The hay has been spoiled here, in cases where it has been cut; but a +great deal of it is not yet cut. I speak of the meadows; for the +clover-hay was all well got in. The grass, which is not cut, is +receiving great injury. It is, in fact, in many cases rotting upon the +ground. As to corn, from Crawley to Horsham there is none worth speaking +of. What there is is very good, in general, considering the quality of +the soil. It is about as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> backward as at Worth: the barley and oats +green, and the wheat beginning to change colour.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Billingshurst (Sussex),<br />Friday Morning, 1 Aug.</i></p> + +<p>This village is 7 miles from Horsham, and I got here to breakfast about +seven o’clock. A very pretty village, and a very nice breakfast in a +very neat little parlour of a very decent public-house. The landlady +sent her son to get me some cream, and he was just such a chap as I was +at his age, and dressed just in the same sort of way, his main garment +being a blue smock-frock, faded from wear, and mended with pieces of new +stuff, and, of course, not faded. The sight of this smock-frock brought +to my recollection many things very dear to me. This boy will, I dare +say, perform his part at Billingshurst, or at some place not far from +it. If accident had not taken me from a similar scene, how many villains +and fools, who have been well teazed and tormented, would have slept in +peace at night, and have fearlessly swaggered about by day! When I look +at this little chap; at his smock-frock, his nailed shoes, and his +clean, plain, and coarse shirt, I ask myself, will anything, I wonder, +ever send this chap across the ocean to tackle the base, corrupt, +perjured Republican Judges of Pennsylvania? Will this little, lively, +but, at the same time, simple boy, ever become the terror of villains +and hypocrites across the Atlantic? What a chain of strange +circumstances there must be to lead this boy to thwart a miscreant +tyrant like Mackeen, the Chief Justice and afterwards Governor of +Pennsylvania, and to expose the corruptions of the band of rascals, +called a “Senate and a House of Representatives,” at Harrisburgh, in +that state!</p> + +<p>I was afraid of rain, and got on as fast as I could: that is to say, as +fast as my own diligence could help me on; for, as to my horse, he is to +go only <i>so fast</i>. However, I had no rain; and got to Petworth, nine +miles further, by about ten o’clock.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Petworth (Sussex),<br />Friday Evening, 1 Aug.</i></p> + +<p>No rain, until just at sunset, and then very little. I must now look +back. From Horsham to within a few miles of Petworth is in the Weald of +Sussex; stiff land, small fields, broad hedge-rows, and invariably +thickly planted with fine, growing oak trees. The corn here consists +chiefly of wheat and oats. There are some bean-fields, and some few +fields of peas; but very little barley along here. The corn is very good +all along the Weald; backward; the wheat almost green; the oats<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> quite +green; but, late as it is, I see no blight; and the farmers tell me that +there is no blight. There may be yet, however; and therefore our +Government, our “<i>paternal</i> Government,” so anxious to prevent “over +production,” need not <i>despair</i> as yet, at any rate. The beans in the +Weald are not very good. They got lousy before the wet came; and it came +rather too late to make them recover what they had lost. What peas there +are look well. Along here the wheat, in general, may be fit to cut in +about 16 days’ time; some sooner; but some later, for some is perfectly +green. No Swedish turnips all along this country. The white turnips are +just up, coming up, or just sown. The farmers are laying out lime upon +the wheat fallows, and this is the universal practice of the country. I +see very few sheep. There are a good many orchards along in the Weald, +and they have some apples this year; but, in general, not many. The +apple trees are planted very thickly, and, of course, they are small; +but they appear healthy in general; and in some places there is a good +deal of fruit, even this year. As you approach Petworth, the ground +rises and the soil grows lighter. There is a hill which I came over, +about two miles from Petworth, whence I had a clear view of the Surrey +chalk-hills, Leithhill, Hindhead, Blackdown, and of the South Downs, +towards one part of which I was advancing. The pigs along here are all +black, thin-haired, and of precisely the same sort of those that I took +from England to Long Island, and with which I pretty well stocked the +American states. By-the-by, the trip, which Old Sidmouth and crew gave +me to America, was attended with some interesting consequences; amongst +which were the introducing of the Sussex pigs into the American +farmyards; the introduction of the Swedish turnip into the American +fields; the introduction of American apple trees into England; and the +introduction of the making, in England, of the straw plat, to supplant +the Italian; for, had my son not been in America, this last would not +have taken place; and in America he would not have been, had it not been +for Old Sidmouth and crew. One thing more, and that is of more +importance than all the rest, Peel’s Bill arose out of the “puff-out” +Registers; these arose out of the trip to Long Island; and out of Peel’s +Bill has arisen the best bothering that the wigs of the Boroughmongers +ever received, which bothering will end in the destruction of the +Boroughmongering. It is curious, and very <i>useful</i>, thus to trace events +to their causes.</p> + +<p>Soon after quitting Billingshurst I crossed the river Arun, which has a +canal running alongside of it. At this there are large timber and coal +yards, and kilns for lime. This appears to be a grand receiving and +distributing place. The river<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> goes down to Arundale, and, together with +the valley that it runs through, gives the town its name. This valley, +which is very pretty, and which winds about a good deal, is the dale of +the Arun: and the town is the town of the Arun-dale. To-day, near a +place called Westborough Green, I saw a woman bleaching her home-spun +and home-woven linen. I have not seen such a thing before, since I left +Long Island. There, and, indeed, all over the American States, North of +Maryland, and especially in the New England States, almost the whole of +both linen and woollen used in the country, and a large part of that +used in towns, is made in the farmhouses. There are thousands and +thousands of families who never use either, except of their own making. +All but the weaving is done by the family. There is a loom in the house, +and the weaver goes from house to house. I once saw about three thousand +farmers, or rather country people, at a horse-race in Long Island, and +my opinion was, that there were not five hundred who were not dressed in +home-spun coats. As to linen, no farmer’s family thinks of buying linen. +The Lords of the Loom have taken from the land, in England, this part of +its due; and hence one cause of the poverty, misery, and pauperism that +are becoming so frightful throughout the country. A national debt and +all the taxation and gambling belonging to it have a natural tendency to +draw wealth into great masses. These masses produce a power of +<i>congregating</i> manufactures, and of making the many work at them, for +the <i>gain of a few</i>. The taxing Government finds great convenience in +these congregations. It can lay its hand easily upon a part of the +produce; as ours does with so much effect. But the land suffers greatly +from this, and the country must finally feel the fatal effects of it. +The country people lose part of their natural employment. The women and +children, who ought to provide a great part of the raiment, have nothing +to do. The fields <i>must</i> have men and boys; but where there are men and +boys there will be <i>women</i> and <i>girls</i>; and as the Lords of the Loom +have now a set of real slaves, by the means of whom they take away a +great part of the employment of the countrywomen and girls, these must +be kept by poor-rates in whatever degree they lose employment through +the Lords of the Loom. One would think that nothing can be much plainer +than this; and yet you hear the <i>jolterheads</i> congratulating one another +upon the increase of Manchester, and such places! My straw affair will +certainly restore to the land some of the employment of its women and +girls. It will be impossible for any of the “rich ruffians;” any of the +horse-power or steam-power or air-power ruffians; any of these greedy, +grinding ruffians, to draw together<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> bands of men, women and children, +and to make them slaves, in the working of straw. The raw material comes +of itself, and the hand, and the hand alone, can convert it to use. I +thought well of this before I took one single step in the way of +supplanting the Leghorn bonnets. If I had not been certain that no rich +ruffian, no white slave holder, could ever arise out of it, assuredly +one line upon the subject never would have been written by me. Better a +million times that the money should go to Italy; better that it should +go to enrich even the rivals and enemies of the country; than that it +should enable these hard, these unfeeling men, to draw English people +into crowds and make them slaves, and slaves too of the lowest and most +degraded cast.</p> + +<p>As I was coming into this town I saw a new-fashioned sort of +stone-cracking. A man had a sledge-hammer, and was cracking the heads of +the big stones that had been laid on the road a good while ago. This is +a very good way; but this man told me that he was set at this because +the farmers had <i>no employment</i> for many of the men. “Well,” said I, +“but they pay you to do this!” “Yes,” said he. “Well, then,” said I, “is +it not better for them to pay you for working <i>on their land</i>?” “I can’t +tell, indeed, Sir, how that is.” But only think; here is half the +haymaking to do: I saw, while I was talking to this man, fifty people in +one hay-field of Lord Egremont, making and carrying hay; and yet, at a +season like this, the farmers are so poor as to be unable to pay the +labourers to work on the land! From this cause there will certainly be +some falling off in production. This will, of course, have a tendency to +keep prices from falling so low as they would do if there were no +falling off. But can this <i>benefit</i> the farmer and landlord? The poverty +of the farmers is seen in their diminished stock. The animals are sold +<i>younger</i> than formerly. Last year was a year of great slaughtering. +There will be less of everything produced; and the quality of each thing +will be worse. It will be a lower and more mean concern altogether. +Petworth is a nice market town; but solid and clean. The great abundance +of <i>stone</i> in the land hereabouts has caused a corresponding liberality +in paving and wall building; so that everything of the building kind has +an air of great strength, and produces the agreeable idea of durability. +Lord Egremont’s house is close to the town, and, with its out-buildings, +garden walls, and other erections, is, perhaps, nearly as big as the +town; though the town is not a very small one. The Park is very fine, +and consists of a parcel of those hills and dells which Nature formed +here when she was in one of her most sportive modes. I have never seen +the earth flung about in such a wild way as round about Hindhead and +Blackdown; and this Park forms a part of this ground. From an elevated +part of it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> and, indeed, from each of many parts of it, you see all +around the country to the distance of many miles. From the South East to +the North West, the hills are so lofty and so near, that they cut the +view rather short; but for the rest of the circle you can see to a very +great distance. It is, upon the whole, a most magnificent seat, and the +Jews will not be able to get it from the <i>present</i> owner; though, if he +live many years, they will give even him a <i>twist</i>. If I had time, I +would make an actual survey of one whole county, and find out how many +of the old gentry have lost their estates, and have been supplanted by +the Jews, since Pitt began his reign. I am sure I should prove that in +number they are one-half extinguished. But it is <i>now</i> that they go. The +little ones are, indeed, gone; and the rest will follow in proportion as +the present farmers are exhausted. These will keep on giving rents as +long as they can beg or borrow the money to pay rents with. But a little +more time will so completely exhaust them that they will be unable to +pay; and as that takes place, the landlords will lose their estates. +Indeed many of them, and even a large portion of them, have, in fact, no +estates now. They are <i>called</i> theirs; but the mortgagees and annuitants +receive the rents. As the rents fall off, sales must take place, unless +in cases of entails; and if this thing go on, we shall see Acts passed +to <i>cut off entails</i>, in order that the Jews may be put into full +possession. Such, thus far, will be the result of our “glorious +victories” over the French! Such will be, in part, the price of the +deeds of Pitt, Addington, Perceval, and their successors. For having +applauded such deeds; for having boasted of the Wellesleys; for having +bragged of battles won by <i>money</i> and by money <i>only</i>, the nation +deserves that which it will receive; and as to the landlords, they, +above all men living, deserve punishment. They put the power into the +hands of Pitt and his crew to torment the people; to keep the people +down; to raise soldiers and to build barracks for this purpose. These +base landlords laughed when affairs like that of Manchester took place. +They laughed at the <i>Blanketteers</i>. They laughed when Canning jested +about Ogden’s rupture. Let them, therefore, now take the full benefit of +the measures of Pitt and his crew. They would fain have us believe that +the calamities they endure do not arise from the acts of the Government. +What do they arise from, then? The Jacobins did not contract the <i>Debt</i> +of 800,000,000<i>l.</i> sterling. The Jacobins did not create a <i>Dead Weight</i> +of 150,000,000<i>l.</i> The Jacobins did not cause a pauper-charge of +200,000,000<i>l.</i> by means of “new enclosure bills,” “vast improvements,” +paper-money, potatoes, and other “proofs of prosperity.” The Jacobins +did not do these things. And will the Government pretend that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>“Providence” did it? That would +be “blasphemy” indeed.——Poh! These +things are the price of efforts to crush freedom in France, <i>lest the +example of France should produce a reform in England</i>. These things are +the price of that undertaking; which, however, has not yet been crowned +with <i>success</i>; for the question is <i>not yet decided</i>. They boast of +their victory over the French. The Pitt crew boast of their achievements +in the war. They boast of the battle of Waterloo. Why! what fools could +not get the same, or the like, if they had as much <i>money</i> to get it +with? Shooting with a <i>silver gun</i> is a saying amongst game-eaters. That +is to say, <i>purchasing</i> the game. A waddling, fat fellow that does not +know how to prime and load will, in this way, beat the best shot in the +country. And this is the way that our crew “beat” the people of France. +They laid out, in the first place, six hundred millions which they +borrowed, and for which they mortgaged the revenues of the nation. Then +they contracted for a “dead weight” to the amount of one hundred and +fifty millions. Then they stripped the labouring classes of the commons, +of their kettles, their bedding, their beer-barrels; and, in short, made +them all paupers, and thus fixed on the nation a permanent annual charge +of about 8 or 9 millions, or a gross debt of 200,000,000<i>l.</i> By these +means, by these anticipations, our crew did what they thought would keep +down the French nation for ages; and what they were sure would, for the +present, enable them to keep up the <i>tithes</i> and other things of the +same sort in England. But the crew did not reflect on the <i>consequences</i> +of the anticipations! Or, at least, the landlords, who gave the crew +their power, did not thus reflect. These consequences are now come, and +are coming; and that must be a base man indeed who does not see them +with pleasure.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Singleton (Sussex),<br />Saturday, 2 Aug.</i></p> + +<p>Ever since the middle of March I have been trying remedies for the +<i>hooping-cough</i>, and have, I believe, tried everything, except riding, +wet to the skin, two or three hours amongst the clouds on the South +Downs. This remedy is now under trial. As Lord Liverpool said, the other +day, of the Irish Tithe Bill, it is “under experiment.” I am treating my +disorder (with better success, I hope) in somewhat the same way that the +pretty fellows at Whitehall treat the disorders of poor Ireland. There +is one thing in favour of this remedy of mine, I shall <i>know</i> the effect +of it, and that, too, in a short time. It rained a little last night. I +got off from Petworth without baiting my horse, thinking that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> the +weather looked suspicious; and that St. Swithin meaned to treat me to a +dose. I had no great-coat, nor any means of changing my clothes. The +hooping-cough made me anxious; but I had fixed on going along the South +Downs from Donnington Hill down to Lavant, and then to go on the flat to +the South foot of Portsdown Hill, and to reach Fareham to-night. Two +men, whom I met soon after I set off, assured me that it would not rain. +I came on to Donnington, which lies at the foot of that part of the +South Downs which I had to go up. Before I came to this point, I crossed +the Arun and its canal again; and here was another place of deposit for +timber, lime, coals, and other things. White, in his history of +Selborne, mentions a hill, which is one of the Hindhead group, from +which two springs (one on each side of the hill) send water into the +<i>two seas</i>: the <i>Atlantic</i> and the <i>German Ocean</i>! This is big talk: but +it is a fact. One of the streams becomes the <i>Arun</i>, which falls into +the Channel; and the other, after winding along amongst the hills and +hillocks between Hindhead and Godalming, goes into the river <i>Wey</i>, +which falls into the Thames at Weybridge. The soil upon leaving +Petworth, and at Petworth, seems very good; a fine deep loam, a sort of +mixture of sand and soft chalk. I then came to a sandy common; a piece +of ground that seemed to have no business there; it looked as if it had +been tossed from Hindhead or Blackdown. The common, however, during the +rage for “improvements,” has been <i>enclosed</i>. That impudent fellow, Old +Rose, stated the number of Enclosure Bills as an indubitable proof of +“national prosperity.” There was some <i>rye</i> upon this common, the sight +of which would have gladdened the heart of Lord Liverpool. It was, in +parts, not more than eight inches high. It was ripe, and, of course, the +straw dead; or I should have found out the owner, and have bought it to +make <i>bonnets</i> of! I defy the Italians to grow worse rye than this. The +reader will recollect that I always said that we could grow <i>as poor</i> +corn as any Italians that ever lived. The village of Donton lies at the +foot of one of these great chalk ridges which are called the South +Downs. The ridge in this place is, I think, about three-fourths of a +mile high, by the high road, which is obliged to go twisting about, in +order to get to the top of it. The hill sweeps round from about West +North West, to East South East; and, of course, it keeps off all the +heavy winds, and especially the South West winds, before which, in this +part of England (and all the South and Western part of it) even the oak +trees seem as if they would gladly flee; for it shaves them up as +completely as you see a quickset hedge shaved by hook or shears. Talking +of hedges reminds me of having seen a box-hedge, just as I came out of +Petworth, more than twelve feet broad, and about fifteen feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> high. I +dare say it is several centuries old. I think it is about forty yards +long. It is a great curiosity.</p> + +<p>The apple trees at Donnington show their gratitude to the hill for its +shelter; for I have seldom seen apple trees in England so large, so +fine, and, in general, so flourishing. I should like to have, or to see, +an orchard of American apples under this hill. The hill, you will +observe, does not shade the ground at Donnington. It slopes too much for +that. But it affords complete shelter from the mischievous winds. It is +very pretty to look down upon this little village as you come winding up +the hill.</p> + +<p>From this hill I ought to have had a most extensive view. I ought to +have seen the Isle of Wight and the sea before me; and to have looked +back to Chalk Hill at Reigate, at the foot of which I had left some +bonnet-grass bleaching. But, alas! <i>Saint Swithin</i> had begun his works +for the day before I got to the top of the hill. Soon after the two +turnip-hoers had assured me that there would be no rain, I saw, +beginning to poke up over the South Downs (then right before me) several +parcels of those white, curled clouds that we call <i>Judges’ Wigs</i>. And +they are just like Judges’ wigs. Not the <i>parson-like</i> things which the +Judges wear when they have to listen to the dull wrangling and duller +jests of the lawyers; but those <i>big</i> wigs which hang down about their +shoulders, when they are about to tell you a little of <i>their +intentions</i>, and when their very looks say, “<i>Stand clear</i>!” These +clouds (if rising from the South West) hold precisely the same language +to the great-coatless traveller. Rain is <i>sure</i> to follow them. The sun +was shining very beautifully when I first saw these Judges’ wigs rising +over the hills. At the sight of them he soon began to hide his face! and +before I got to the top of the hill of Donton, the white clouds had +become black, had spread themselves all around, and a pretty decent and +sturdy rain began to fall. I had resolved to come to this place +(Singleton) to breakfast. I quitted the turnpike road (from Petworth to +Chichester) at a village called Upwaltham, about a mile from Donnington +Hill; and came down a lane, which led me first to a village called +Eastdean; then to another called Westdean, I suppose; and then to this +village of Singleton, and here I am on the turnpike road from Midhurst +to Chichester. The lane goes along through some of the finest farms in +the world. It is impossible for corn land and for agriculture to be +finer than these. In cases like mine, you are pestered to death to find +out the way to <i>set out</i> to get from place to place. The people you have +to deal with are innkeepers, ostlers, and post-boys; and they think you +mad if you express your wish to avoid turnpike roads; and a great deal +more than half mad if you talk of going, even from necessity, by any +other road. They think you a strange fellow if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> you will not ride six +miles on a turnpike road rather than two on any other road. This plague +I experienced on this occasion. I wanted to go from Petworth to Havant. +My way was through Singleton and Funtington. I had no business at +Chichester, which took me too far to the South; nor at Midhurst, which +took me too far to the West. But though I stayed all day (after my +arrival) at Petworth, and though I slept there, I could get no +directions how to set out to come to Singleton, where I am now. I +started, therefore, on the Chichester road, trusting to my enquiries of +the country people as I came on. By these means I got hither, down a +long valley, on the South Downs, which valley winds and twists about +amongst hills, some higher and some lower, forming cross dells, inlets, +and ground in such a variety of shapes that it is impossible to +describe; and the whole of the ground, hill as well as dell, is fine, +most beautiful corn land, or is covered with trees or underwood. As to +St. Swithin, I set him at defiance. The road was flinty, and very +flinty. I rode a foot pace; and got here wet to the skin. I am very glad +I came this road. The corn is all fine; all good; fine crops, and no +appearance of blight. The barley extremely fine. The corn not forwarder +than in the Weald. No beans here; few oats comparatively; chiefly wheat +and barley; but great quantities of Swedish turnips, and those very +forward. More Swedish turnips here upon one single farm than upon all +the farms that I saw between the Wen and Petworth. These turnips are, in +some places, a foot high, and nearly cover the ground. The farmers are, +however, plagued by this St. Swithin, who keeps up a continual drip, +which prevents the thriving of the <ins class="correction" title="original: turnip">turnips</ins> and the killing of the weeds. +The <i>orchards</i> are good here in general. Fine walnut trees, and an +abundant crop of walnuts. This is a series of villages all belonging to +the Duke of Richmond, the outskirts of whose park and woods come up to +these farming lands, all of which belong to him; and I suppose that +every inch of land that I came through this morning belongs either to +the Duke of Richmond or to Lord Egremont. No <i>harm</i> in that, mind, if +those who till the land have <i>fair play</i>; and I should act unjustly +towards these noblemen if I insinuated that the husbandmen have not fair +play as far as the landlords are concerned; for everybody speaks well of +them. There is, besides, <i>no misery</i> to be seen here. I have seen no +wretchedness in Sussex; nothing to be at all compared to that which I +have seen in other parts; and as to these villages in the South Downs, +they are beautiful to behold. Hume and other historians rail against the +<i>feudal</i>-system; and we, “enlightened” and “free” creatures as we are, +look back with scorn, or, at least, with surprise and pity, to the +“vassalage” of our forefathers. But if the matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> were well enquired +into, not slurred over, but well and truly examined, we should find that +the people of these villages were <i>as free</i> in the days of William Rufus +as are the people of the present day; and that vassalage, only under +other names, exists now as completely as it existed then. Well; but out +of this, if true, arises another question: namely, Whether the millions +would derive any benefit from being transferred from these great Lords +who possess them by hundreds, to Jews and jobbers who would possess them +by half-dozens, or by couples? One thing we may say with a certainty of +being right: and that is, that the transfer would be bad for the Lords +themselves. There is an appearance of comfort about the dwellings of the +labourers all along here that is very pleasant to behold. The gardens +are neat, and full of vegetables of the best kinds. I see very few of +“Ireland’s lazy root;” and never, in this country, will the people be +base enough to lie down and expire from starvation under the operation +of the <i>extreme unction</i>! Nothing but a <i>potato-eater</i> will ever do +that. As I came along between Upwaltham and Eastdean, I called to me a +young man, who, along with other turnip-hoers, was sitting under the +shelter of a hedge at breakfast. He came running to me with his victuals +in his hand; and I was glad to see that his food consisted of a good +lump of household bread and not a very small piece of <i>bacon</i>. I did not +envy him his appetite, for I had at that moment a very good one of my +own; but I wanted to know the distance I had to go before I should get +to a good public-house. In parting with him, I said, “You do get some +<i>bacon</i> then?” “Oh, yes! Sir,” said he, and with an emphasis and a swag +of the head which seemed to say, “We <i>must</i> and <i>will</i> have <i>that</i>.” I +saw, and with great delight, a pig at almost every labourer’s house. The +houses are good and warm; and the gardens some of the very best that I +have seen in England. What a difference, good God! what a difference +between this country and the neighbourhood of those corrupt places +<i>Great Bedwin</i> and <i>Cricklade</i>. What sort of <i>breakfast</i> would this man +have had in a mess of <i>cold potatoes</i>? Could he have <i>worked</i>, and +worked in the wet, too, with such food? Monstrous! No society ought to +exist where the labourers live in a hog-like sort of way. The <i>Morning +Chronicle</i> is everlastingly asserting the mischievous consequences of +the want of <i>enlightening</i> these people “<i>i’ th a Sooth</i>;” and telling +us how well they are off in the North. Now this I know, that in the +North the “enlightened” people eat <i>sowens</i>, <i>burgoo</i>, <i>porridge</i>, and +<i>potatoes</i>: that is to say, <i>oatmeal and water</i>, or the root of <i>extreme +unction</i>. If this be the effect of their <i>light</i>, give me the <i>darkness</i> +“o’ th a Sooth.” This is according to what I have heard. If, when I go +to the North, I find the labourers <i>eating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> more meat</i> than those of the +“Sooth,” I shall then say that “enlightening” is a very good thing; but +give me none of that “light,” or of that “grace,” which makes a man +content with oatmeal and water, or that makes him patiently lie down and +die of starvation amidst abundance of food. The <i>Morning Chronicle</i> +hears the labourers crying out in Sussex. They are right to cry out in +time. When they are actually brought down to the extreme unction it is +useless to cry out. And next to the extreme unction is the <i>porridge</i> of +the “enlightened” slaves who toil in the factories for the Lords of the +Loom. Talk of <i>vassals</i>! Talk of <i>villains</i>! Talk of <i>serfs</i>! Are there +any of these, or did feudal times ever see any of them, so debased, so +absolutely slaves, as the poor creatures who, in the “enlightened” +North, are compelled to work fourteen hours in a day, in a heat of +eighty-four degrees; and who are liable to punishment for looking out at +a window of the factory!</p> + +<p>This is really a soaking day, thus far. I got here at nine o’clock. I +stripped off my coat, and put it by the kitchen fire. In a parlour just +eight feet square I have another fire, and have dried my shirt on my +back. We shall see what this does for a hooping-cough. The clouds fly so +low as to be seen passing by the sides of even little hills on these +downs. The Devil is said to be busy in a <i>high</i> wind; but he really +appears to be busy now in this South West wind. The Quakers will, next +market day, at Mark Lane, be as busy as he. They and the Ministers and +St. Swithin and Devil all seem to be of a mind.</p> + +<p>I must not forget the <i>churches</i>. That of Donnington is very small for a +church. It is about twenty feet wide and thirty long. It is, however, +sufficient for the population, the amount of which is two hundred and +twenty-two, not one half of whom are, of course, ever at church at one +time. There is, however, plenty of room for the whole: the “tower” of +this church is about double the size of a <i>sentry-box</i>. The parson, +whose name is Davidson, did not, when the Return was laid before +Parliament, in 1818, reside in the parish. Though the living is a large +living, the parsonage house was let to “a lady and her three daughters.” +What impudence a man must have to put this into a Return! The church at +Upwaltham is about such another, and the “tower” still less than that at +Donnington. Here the population is seventy-nine. The parish is a +rectory, and in the Return before mentioned, the parson (whose name was +Tripp) says that the church will hold the population, but that the +parsonage house will not hold him! And why? Because it is “a miserable +cottage.” I looked about for this “miserable cottage,” and could not +find it. What on impudent fellow this must have been! And, indeed, what +a state of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> impudence have they not now arrived at! Did he, when he was +ordained, talk anything about a fine house to live in? Did Jesus Christ +and Saint Paul talk about fine houses? Did not this priest most solemnly +vow to God, upon the altar, that he would be constant, in season and out +of season, in watching over the souls of his flock? However, it is +useless to remonstrate with this set of men. Nothing will have any +effect upon them. They will keep grasping at the tithes as long as they +can reach them. “<i>A miserable cottage!</i>” What impudence! What, Mr. +Tripp, is it a fine house that you have been appointed and ordained to +live in? Lord Egremont is the patron of Mr. Tripp; and he has a <i>duty</i> +to perform too; for the living is <i>not his</i>: he is, in this case, only +an hereditary <i>trustee</i> for the public; and he ought to see that this +parson resides in the parish, which, according to his own Return, yields +him 125<i>l.</i> a-year. Eastdean is a Vicarage, with a population of 353, a +church which the parson says will hold 200, and which I say will hold +600 or 700, and a living worth 85<i>l.</i> a-year, in the gift of the Bishop +of Chichester.</p> + +<p>Westdean is united with Singleton, the living is in the gift of the +Church at Chichester and the Duke of Richmond alternately; it is a large +living, it has a population of 613, and the two churches, says the +parson, will hold 200 people! What careless, or what impudent fellows +these must have been. These two churches will hold a thousand people, +packed much less close than they are in meeting houses.</p> + +<p>At Upwaltham there is a toll gate, and when the woman opened the door of +the house to come and let me through, I saw some <i>straw plat</i> lying in a +chair. She showed it me; and I found that it was made by her husband, in +the evenings, after he came home from work, in order to make him a hat +for the harvest. I told her how to get better straw for the purpose; and +when I told her that she must cut the grass, or the grain, <i>green</i>, she +said, “Aye, I dare say it is so: and I wonder we never thought of that +before; for we sometimes make hats out of rushes, cut green, and dried, +and the hats are very durable.” This woman ought to have my <i>Cottage +Economy</i>. She keeps the toll-gate at Upwaltham, which is called Waltham, +and which is on the turnpike road from Petworth to Chichester. Now, if +any gentleman who lives at Chichester will call upon my Son, at the +Office of the Register in Fleet Street, and ask for a copy of <i>Cottage +Economy</i>, to be given to this woman, he will receive the copy, and my +thanks, if he will have the goodness to give it to her, and to point to +her the Essay on Straw Plat.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Fareham (Hants), Saturday, 2 August.</i></p> + +<p>Here I am in spite of St. Swithin!—The truth is, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> Saint is +like most other oppressors; <i>rough</i> him! <i>rough</i> him! and he relaxes. +After drying myself, and sitting the better part of four hours at +Singleton, I started in the rain, boldly setting the Saint at defiance, +and expecting to have not one dry thread by the time I got to Havant, +which is nine miles from Fareham, and four from Cosham. To my most +agreeable surprise, the rain ceased before I got by Selsey, I suppose it +is called, where Lord Selsey’s house and beautiful and fine estate is. +On I went, turning off to the right to go to Funtington and Westbourn, +and getting to Havant to bait my horse, about four o’clock.</p> + +<p>From Lavant (about two miles back from Funtington) the ground begins to +be a sea side flat. The soil is somewhat varied in quality and kind; but +with the exception of an enclosed common between Funtington and +Westbourn, it is all good soil. The corn of all kinds good and earlier +than further back. They have begun cutting peas here, and near Lavant I +saw a field of wheat nearly ripe. The Swedish turnips very fine, and +still earlier than on the South Downs. Prodigious crops of walnuts; but +the apples bad along here. The South West winds have cut them off; and, +indeed, how should it be otherwise, if these winds happen to prevail in +May, or early in June?</p> + +<p>On the new enclosure, near Funtington, the wheat and oats are both +nearly ripe.</p> + +<p>In a new enclosure, near Westbourn, I saw the only really blighted wheat +that I have yet seen this year. “Oh!” exclaimed I, “that my Lord +Liverpool, that my much respected stern-path-of-duty-man, could but see +that wheat, which God and the seedsman intended to be <i>white</i>; but which +the Devil (listening to the prayers of the Quakers) has made <i>black</i>! +Oh! could but my Lord see it, lying flat upon the ground, with the +May-weed and the Couch-grass pushing up through it, and with a whole +flock of rooks pecking away at its ears! Then would my much valued Lord +say, indeed, that the ‘difficulties’ of agriculture are about to receive +the ‘greatest abatement!’”</p> + +<p>But now I come to one of the great objects of my journey: that is to +say, to see the state of the corn along at the South foot and on the +South side of Portsdown Hill. It is impossible that there can be, +anywhere, a better corn country than this. The hill is eight miles long, +and about three-fourths of a mile high, beginning at the road that runs +along at the foot of the hill. On the hill-side the corn land goes +rather better than half way up; and on the sea-side the corn land is +about the third (it may be half) a mile wide. Portsdown Hill is very +much in the shape of an oblong tin cover to a dish. From Bedhampton, +which lies at the Eastern end of the hill, to Fareham, which is at the +Western end of it, you have brought under your eye not less than eight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +square miles of corn fields, with scarcely a hedge or ditch of any +consequence, and being, on an average, from twenty to forty acres each +in extent. The land is excellent. The situation good for manure. The +spot the <i>earliest in the whole kingdom</i>. Here, if the corn were +backward, then the harvest must be backward. We were talking at Reigate +of the prospect of a backward harvest. I observed that it was a rule +that if no <i>wheat were cut</i> under Portsdown Hill on the hill <i>fair-day</i>, +26th July, the harvest must be generally backward. When I made this +observation the fair-day was passed; but I determined in my mind to come +and see how the matter stood. When, therefore, I got to the village of +Bedhampton, I began to look out pretty sharply. I came on to Wimmering, +which is just about the mid-way along the foot of the hill, and there I +saw, at a good distance from me, five men reaping in a field of wheat of +about 40 acres. I found, upon enquiry, that they began this morning, and +that the wheat belongs to Mr. Boniface, of Wimmering. Here the first +sheaf is cut that is cut in England: that the reader may depend upon. It +was never known that the average even of Hampshire was less than ten +days behind the average of Portsdown Hill. The corn under the hill is as +good as I ever saw it, except in the year 1813. No beans here. No peas. +Scarcely any oats. Wheat, barley, and turnips. The Swedish turnips not +so good as on the South Downs and near Funtington; but the wheat full as +good, rather better; and the barley as good as it is possible to be. In +looking at these crops one wonders whence are to come the hands to clear +them off.</p> + +<p>A very pleasant ride to-day; and the pleasanter for my having set the +wet Saint at defiance. It is about thirty miles from Petworth to +Fareham; and I got in in very good time. I have now come, if I include +my <i>boltings</i>, for the purpose of looking at farms and woods, a round +hundred miles from the Wen to this town of Fareham; and in the whole of +the hundred miles I have not seen one single wheat-rick, though I have +come through as fine corn countries as any in England, and by the +homesteads of the richest of farmers. Not one single wheat-rick have I +seen, and not one rick of any sort of corn. I never saw nor heard of the +like of this before; and if I had not witnessed the fact with my own +eyes I could not have believed it. There are some farmers who have corn +in their barns, perhaps; but when there is no <i>rick</i> left, there is very +little corn in the hands of farmers. Yet the markets, St. Swithin +notwithstanding, do not rise. This harvest must be three weeks later +than usual, and the last harvest was three weeks earlier than usual. The +last crop was begun upon at once, on account of the badness of the wheat +of the year before. So that the last crop will have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> had to give food +for thirteen months and a half. And yet the markets do not rise! And yet +there are men, farmers, mad enough to think that they have “got past the +bad place,” and that things will come about, and are coming about! And +Lethbridge, of the Collective, withdraws his motion because he has got +what he wanted: namely, a return of good and “<i>remunerating</i> prices!” +The <i>Morning Chronicle</i> of this day, which has met me at this place, has +the following paragraph. “The weather is much improved, though it does +not yet assume the character of being fine. At the Corn Exchange since +Monday the arrivals consist of 7,130 quarters of wheat, 450 quarters of +barley, 8,300 quarters of oats, and 9,200 sacks of flour. The demand for +wheat is next to Zero, and for oats it is extremely dull. To effect +sales, prices are not much attended to, for the demand cannot be +increased at the present currency. The farmers should pay attention to +oats, for the foreign new, under the King’s lock, will be brought into +consumption, unless a decline takes place immediately, and a weight will +thereby be thrown over the markets, which under existing circumstances +will be extremely detrimental to the agricultural interests. Its +distress however does not deserve much sympathy, for as soon as there +was a prospect of the payment of rents, the cause of the people was +abandoned by the Representatives of Agriculture in the Collected Wisdom, +and Mr. Brougham’s most excellent measure for increasing the consumption +of Malt was neglected. Where there is no sympathy, none can be expected, +and the land proprietors need not in future depend on the assistance of +the mercantile and manufacturing interests, should their own distress +again require a united effort to remedy the general grievances.” As to +the mercantile and manufacturing people, what is the land to expect from +them? But I agree with the <i>Chronicle</i> that the landlords deserve ruin. +They abandoned the public cause the moment they thought that they saw a +prospect of getting rents. That prospect will soon disappear, unless +they pray hard to St. Swithin to insist upon forty days wet <i>after</i> his +birth-day. I do not see what the farmers can do about the price of oats. +They have no power to do anything, unless they come with their cavalry +horses and storm the “King’s lock.” In short, it is all confusion in +men’s minds as well as in their pockets. There must be something +completely out of joint when the Government are afraid of the effects of +a good crop. I intend to set off to-morrow for Botley, and go thence to +Easton; and then to Alton and Crondall and Farnham, to see how the +<i>hops</i> are there. By the time that I get back to the Wen I shall know +nearly the real state of the case as to crops; and that, at this time, +is a great matter.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<h3>THROUGH THE SOUTH-EAST OF HAMPSHIRE, BACK THROUGH THE SOUTH-WEST OF +SURREY, ALONG THE WEALD OF SURREY, AND THEN OVER THE SURREY HILLS DOWN TO THE WEN.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Batley (Hampshire),<br />5th August, 1823.</i></p> + +<p>I got to Fareham on Saturday night, after having got a soaking on the +South Downs on the morning of that day. On the Sunday morning, intending +to go and spend the day at Titchfield (about three miles and a half from +Fareham), and perceiving, upon looking out of the window, about 5 +o’clock in the morning, that it was likely to rain, I got up, struck a +bustle, got up the ostler, set off and got to my destined point before 7 +o’clock in the morning. And here I experienced the benefits of early +rising; for I had scarcely got well and safely under cover, when St. +Swithin began to pour down again, and he continued to pour during the +whole of the day. From Fareham to Titchfield village a large part of the +ground is a common enclosed some years ago. It is therefore amongst the +worst of the land in the country. Yet I did not see a bad field of corn +along here, and the Swedish turnips were, I think, full as fine as any +that I saw upon the South Downs. But it is to be observed that this land +is in the hands of dead-weight people, and is conveniently situated for +the receiving of manure from Portsmouth. Before I got to my friend’s +house, I passed by a farm where I expected to find a wheat-rick +standing. I did not, however; and this is the strongest possible proof +that the stock of corn is gone out of the hands of the farmers. I set +out from Titchfield at 7 o’clock in the evening, and had seven miles to +go to reach Botley. It rained, but I got myself well furnished forth as +a defence against the rain. I had not gone two hundred yards before the +rain ceased; so that I was singularly fortunate as to rain this day; and +I had now to congratulate myself on the success of the remedy for the +hooping-cough which I used the day before on the South Downs; for +really, though I had a spell or two of coughing on Saturday morning when +I set out from Petworth, I have not had, up to this hour, any spell at +all since I got wet upon the South Downs. I got to Botley about nine +o’clock, having stopped two or three times to look about me as I went +along; for I had, in the first place, to ride, for about three miles of +my road, upon a turnpike road of which I was the projector, and, indeed, +the maker. In the next place I had to ride, for something better than +half a mile of my way, along between fields and coppices that were mine +until they came into the hands of the mortgagee, and by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> the side of +cottages of my own building. The only matter of much interest with me +was the state of the inhabitants of those cottages. I stopped at two or +three places, and made some little enquiries; I rode up to two or three +houses in the village of Botley, which I had to pass through, and just +before it was dark I got to a farmhouse close by the church, and what +was more, not a great many yards from the dwelling of that delectable +creature, the Botley parson, whom, however, I have not seen during my +stay at this place.</p> + +<p>Botley lies in a valley, the soil of which is a deep and stiff clay. Oak +trees grow well; and this year the wheat grows well, as it does upon all +the clays that I have seen. I have never seen the wheat better in +general, in this part of the country, than it is now. I have, I think, +seen it heavier; but never clearer from blight. It is backward compared +to the wheat in many other parts; some of it is quite green; but none of +it has any appearance of blight. This is not much of a barley country. +The oats are good. The beans that I have seen, very indifferent.</p> + +<p>The best news that I have learnt here is, that the Botley parson is +become quite a gentle creature, compared to what he used to be. The +people in the village have told me some most ridiculous stories about +his having been hoaxed in London! It seems that somebody danced him up +from Botley to London, by telling him that a legacy had been left him, +or some such story. Up went the parson on horseback, being in too great +a hurry to run the risk of coach. The hoaxers, it appears, got him to +some hotel, and there set upon him a whole tribe of applicants, +wet-nurses, dry-nurses, lawyers with deeds of conveyance for borrowed +money, curates in want of churches, coffin-makers, travelling +companions, ladies’ maids, dealers in Yorkshire hams, Newcastle coals, +and dealers in dried night-soil at Islington. In short, if I am rightly +informed, they kept the parson in town for several days, bothered him +three parts out of his senses, compelled him to escape, as it were, from +a fire; and then, when he got home, he found the village posted all over +with handbills giving an account of his adventure, under the pretence of +offering 500<i>l.</i> reward for a discovery of the hoaxers! The good of it +was the parson ascribed his disgrace <i>to me</i>, and they say that he +perseveres to this hour in accusing me of it. Upon my word, I had +nothing to do with the matter, and this affair only shows that I am not +the only friend that the parson has in the world. Though this may have +had a tendency to produce in the parson that amelioration of deportment +which is said to become him so well, there is something else that has +taken place, which has, in all probability, had a more powerful +influence in this way; namely, a great reduction in the value<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> of the +parson’s living, which was at one time little short of five hundred +pounds a year, and which, I believe, is now not the half of that sum! +This, to be sure, is not only a natural but a necessary consequence of +the change in the value of money. The parsons are neither more nor less +than another sort of landlords. They must fall, of course, in their +demands, or their demands will not be paid. They may take in kind, but +that will answer them no purpose at all. They will be less people than +they have been, and will continue to grow less and less, until the day +when the whole of the tithes and other Church property, as it is called, +shall be applied to public purposes.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Easton (Hampshire),<br />Wednesday Evening, 6th August.</i></p> + +<p>This village of Easton lies at a few miles towards the north-east from +Winchester. It is distant from Botley, by the way which I came, about +fifteen or sixteen miles. I came through Durley, where I went to the +house of farmer Mears. I was very much pleased with what I saw at +Durley, which is about two miles from Botley, and is certainly one of +the most obscure villages in this whole kingdom. Mrs. Mears, the +farmer’s wife, had made, of the crested dog’s tail grass, a bonnet which +she wears herself. I there saw girls platting the straw. They had made +plat of several degrees of fineness; and they sell it to some person or +persons at Fareham, who, I suppose, makes it into bonnets. Mrs. Mears, +who is a very intelligent and clever woman, has two girls at work, each +of whom earns per week as much (within a shilling) as her father, who is +a labouring man, earns per week. The father has at this time only 7<i>s.</i> +per week. These two girls (and not very stout girls) earn six shillings +a week each: thus the income of this family is, from seven shillings a +week, raised to nineteen shillings a week. I shall suppose that this may +in some measure be owing to the generosity of ladies in the +neighbourhood, and to their desire to promote this domestic manufacture; +but if I suppose that these girls receive double compared to what they +will receive for the same quantity of labour when the manufacture +becomes more general, is it not a great thing to make the income of the +family nineteen shillings a week instead of seven? Very little, indeed, +could these poor things have done in the field during the last forty +days. And, besides, how clean; how healthful; how everything that one +could wish is this sort of employment! The farmer, who is also a very +intelligent person, told me that he should endeavour to introduce the +manufacture as a thing to assist the obtaining of employment, in order +to lessen the amount of the poor-rates. I think it very likely that this +will be done in the parish of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> Durley. A most important matter it is, +<i>to put paupers in the way of ceasing to be paupers</i>. I could not help +admiring the zeal as well as the intelligence of the farmer’s wife, who +expressed her readiness to teach the girls and women of the parish, in +order to enable them to assist themselves. I shall hear, in all +probability, of their proceedings at Durley, and if I do, I shall make a +point of communicating to the Public an account of those interesting +proceedings. From the very first, from the first moment of my thinking +about this straw affair, I regarded it as likely to assist in bettering +the lot of the labouring people. If it has not this effect, I value it +not. It is not worth the attention of any of us; but I am satisfied that +this is the way in which it will work. I have the pleasure to know that +there is one labouring family, at any rate, who are living well through +my means. It is I, who, without knowing them, without ever having seen +them, without even now knowing their names, have given the means of good +living to a family who were before half-starved. This is indisputably my +work; and when I reflect that there must necessarily be, now, some +hundreds of families, and shortly, many thousands of families, in +England, who are and will be, through my means, living well instead of +being half-starved, I cannot but feel myself consoled; I cannot but feel +that I have some compensation for the sentence passed upon me by +Ellenborough, Grose, Le Blanc, and Bailey; and I verily believe, that in +the case of this one single family in the parish of Durley I have done +more good than Bailey ever did in the whole course of his life, +notwithstanding his pious Commentary on the Book of Common Prayer. I +will allow nothing to be good, with regard to the labouring classes, +unless it make an addition to their victuals, drink, or clothing. As to +their <i>minds</i>, that is much too sublime matter for me to think about. I +know that they are in rags, and that they have not a belly-full; and I +know that the way to make them good, to make them honest, to make them +dutiful, to make them kind to one another, is to enable them to live +well; and I also know that none of these things will ever be +accomplished by Methodist sermons, and by those stupid, at once stupid +and malignant things, and roguish things, called Religious Tracts.</p> + +<p>It seems that this farmer at Durley has always read the Register, since +the first appearance of little <i>Two-penny Trash</i>. Had it not been for +this reading, Mrs. Mears would not have thought about the grass; and had +she not thought about the grass, none of the benefits above mentioned +would have arisen to her neighbours. The difference between this affair +and the spinning-jenny affairs is this: that the spinning-jenny affairs +fill the pockets of “rich ruffians,” such as those who would have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>murdered me at Coventry; and that this straw affair makes an addition +to the food and raiment of the labouring classes, and gives not a penny +to be pocketed by the rich ruffians.</p> + +<p>From Durley I came on in company with farmer Mears through Upham. This +Upham is the place where Young, who wrote that bombastical stuff, called +“Night Thoughts,” was once the parson, and where, I believe, he was +born. Away to the right of Upham lies the little town of Bishop’s +Waltham, whither I wished to go very much, but it was too late in the +day. From Upham we came on upon the high land, called Black Down. This +has nothing to do with that Black-down Hill, spoken of in my last ride. +We are here getting up upon the chalk hills, which stretch away towards +Winchester. The soil here is a poor blackish stuff, with little white +stones in it, upon a bed of chalk. It was a down not many years ago. The +madness and greediness of the days of paper-money led to the breaking of +it up. The corn upon it is miserable; but as good as can be expected +upon such land.</p> + +<p>At the end of this tract we come to a spot called Whiteflood, and here +we cross the old turnpike road which leads from Winchester to Gosport +through Bishop’s Waltham. Whiteflood is at the foot of the first of a +series of hills over which you come to get to the top of that lofty +ridge called Morning Hill. The farmer came to the top of the first hill +along with me; and he was just about to turn back, when I, looking away +to the left, down a valley which stretched across the other side of the +down, observed a rather singular appearance, and said to the farmer, +“What is that coming up that valley? is it smoke, or is it a cloud?” The +day had been very fine hitherto; the sun was shining very bright where +we were. The farmer answered, “Oh, it’s smoke; it comes from Ouselberry, +which is down in that bottom behind those trees.” So saying, we bid each +other good day; he went back, and I went on. Before I had got a hundred +and fifty yards from him, the cloud which he had taken for the +Ouselberry smoke came upon the hill and wet me to the skin. He was not +far from the house at Whiteflood; but I am sure that he could not +entirely escape it. It is curious to observe how the clouds sail about +in the hilly countries, and particularly, I think, amongst the +chalk-hills. I have never observed the like amongst the sand-hills, or +amongst rocks.</p> + +<p>From Whiteflood you come over a series of hills, part of which form a +rabbit-warren called Longwood warren, on the borders of which is the +house and estate of Lord Northesk. These hills are amongst the most +barren of the downs of England; yet a part of them was broken up during +the rage for improvements; during the rage for what empty men think was +an augmenting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> of the <i>capital</i> of the country. On about twenty acres of +this land, sown with wheat, I should not suppose that there would be +twice twenty bushels of grain! A man must be mad, or nearly mad, to sow +wheat upon such a spot. However, a large part of what was enclosed has +been thrown out again already, and the rest will be thrown out in a very +few years. The down itself was poor; what, then, must it be as +corn-land! Think of the destruction which has here taken place. The +herbage was not good, but it was something; it was something for every +year, and without trouble. Instead of grass it will now, for twenty +years to come, bear nothing but that species of weeds which is hardy +enough to grow where the grass will not grow. And this was “augmenting +the capital of the nation.” These new enclosure-bills were boasted of by +George Rose and by Pitt as proofs of national prosperity! When men in +power are ignorant to this extent, who is to expect anything but +consequences such as we now behold.</p> + +<p>From the top of this high land called <i>Morning Hill</i>, and the real name +of which is <i>Magdalen Hill</i>, from a chapel which once stood there +dedicated to Mary Magdalen; from the top of this land you have a view of +a circle which is upon an average about seventy miles in diameter; and I +believe in no one place so little as fifty miles in diameter. You see +the Isle of Wight in one direction, and in the opposite direction you +see the high lands in Berkshire. It is not a pleasant view, however. The +fertile spots are all too far from you. Descending from this hill, you +cross the turnpike-road (about two miles from Winchester), leading from +Winchester to London through Alresford and Farnham. As soon as you cross +the road, you enter the estate of the descendant of Rollo, Duke of +Buckingham, which estate is in the parish of Avington. In this place the +Duke has a farm, not very good land. It is in his own hands. The corn is +indifferent, except the barley, which is everywhere good. You come a +full mile from the roadside down through this farm, to the Duke’s +mansion-house at Avington, and to the little village of that name, both +of them beautifully situated, amidst fine and lofty trees, fine meadows, +and streams of clear water. On this farm of the Duke I saw (in a little +close by the farmhouse) several hens in coops with broods of pheasants +instead of chickens. It seems that a gamekeeper lives in the farmhouse, +and I dare say the Duke thinks much more of the pheasants than of the +corn. To be very solicitous to preserve what has been raised with so +much care and at so much expense is by no means unnatural; but, then, +there is a measure to be observed here; and that measure was certainly +outstretched in the case of Mr. Deller. I here saw, at this gamekeeping +farmhouse, what I had not seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> since my departure from the Wen; namely, +a wheat-rick! Hard, indeed, would it have been if a Plantagenet, turned +farmer, had not a wheat-rick in his hands. This rick contains, I should +think, what they call in Hampshire ten loads of wheat, that is to say, +fifty quarters, or four hundred bushels. And this is the only rick, not +only of wheat, but of any corn whatever, that I have seen since I left +London. The turnips upon this farm are by no means good; but I was in +some measure compensated for the bad turnips by the sight of the Duke’s +turnip-hoers, about a dozen females, amongst whom there were several +very pretty girls, and they were as merry as larks. There had been a +shower that had brought them into a sort of huddle on the road side. +When I came up to them, they all fixed their eyes upon me, and, upon my +smiling, they bursted out into laughter. I observed to them that the +Duke of Buckingham was a very happy man to have such turnip-hoers, and +really they seemed happier and better off than any work-people that I +saw in the fields all the way from London to this spot. It is curious +enough, but I have always observed that the women along this part of the +country are usually tall. These girls were all tall, straight, fair, +round-faced, excellent complexion, and uncommonly gay. They were well +dressed too, and I observed the same of all the men that I saw down at +Avington. This could not be the case if the Duke were a cruel or hard +master; and this is an act of justice due from me to the descendant of +Rollo. It is in the house of Mr. Deller that I make these notes, but as +it is <i>injustice</i> that we dislike, I must do Rollo justice; and I must +again say that the good looks and happy faces of his turnip-hoers spoke +much more in his praise than could have been spoken by fifty lawyers, +like that Storks who was employed, the other day, to plead against the +Editor of the <i>Bucks Chronicle</i>, for publishing an account of the +selling-up of farmer Smith, of Ashendon, in that county. I came through +the Duke’s Park to come to Easton, which is the next village below +Avington. A very pretty park. The house is quite in the bottom; it can +be seen in no direction from a distance greater than that of four or +five hundred yards. The river Itchen, which rises near Alresford, which +runs down through Winchester to Southampton, goes down the middle of +this valley, and waters all its immense quantity of meadows. The Duke’s +house stands not far from the river itself. A stream of water is brought +from the river to feed a pond before the house. There are several +avenues of trees which are very beautiful, and some of which give +complete shelter to the kitchen garden, which has, besides, +extraordinarily high walls. Never was a greater contrast than that +presented by this place and the place of Lord Egremont. The latter is +all loftiness. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>Everything is high about it; it has extensive views in +all directions. It sees and can be seen by all the country around. If I +had the ousting of one of these noblemen, I certainly, however, would +oust the Duke, who, I dare say, will by no means be desirous of seeing +arise the occasion of putting the sincerity of the compliment to the +test. The village of Easton is, like that of Avington, close by the +waterside. The meadows are the attraction; and, indeed, it is the +meadows that have caused the villages to exist.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Selborne (Hants),<br />Thursday, 7th August, Noon.</i></p> + +<p>I took leave of Mr. Deller this morning, about 7 o’clock. Came back +through Avington Park, through the village of Avington, and, crossing +the Itchen river, came over to the village of Itchen Abas. <i>Abas</i> means +<i>below</i>. It is a French word that came over with Duke Rollo’s +progenitors. There needs no better proof of the high descent of the +Duke, and of the antiquity of his family. This is that Itchen Abas where +that famous Parson-Justice, the Reverend Robert Wright, lives, who +refused to hear Mr. Deller’s complaint against the Duke’s servant at his +own house, and who afterwards, along with Mr. Poulter, bound Mr. Deller +over to the Quarter Sessions for the alleged assault. I have great +pleasure in informing the public that Mr. Deller has not had to bear the +expenses in this case himself; but that they have been borne by his +neighbours, very much to the credit of those neighbours. I hear of an +affair between the Duke of Buckingham and a Mr. Bird, who resides in +this neighbourhood. If I had had time I should have gone to see Mr. +Bird, of whose treatment I have heard a great deal, and an account of +which treatment ought to be brought before the public. It is very +natural for the Duke of Buckingham to wish to preserve that game which +he calls his hobby-horse; it is very natural for him to delight in his +hobby; but <i>hobbies</i>, my Lord Duke, ought to be gentle, inoffensive, +perfectly harmless little creatures. They ought not to be suffered to +kick and fling about them: they ought not to be rough-shod, and, above +all things, they ought not to be great things like those which are +ridden by the Life-guards: and, like them, be suffered to dance, and +caper, and trample poor devils of farmers under foot. Have your hobbies, +my Lords of the Soil, but let them be gentle; in short, let them be +hobbies in character with the commons and forests, and not the high-fed +hobbies from the barracks at Knightsbridge, such as put poor Mr. Sheriff +Waithman’s life in jeopardy. That the game should be preserved, every +one that knows anything of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> country will allow; but every man of any +sense must see that it cannot be preserved by sheer force. It must be +rather through love than through fear; rather through good-will than +through ill-will. If the thing be properly managed, there will be plenty +of game without any severity towards any good man. Mr. Deller’s case was +so plain: it was so monstrous to think that a man was to be punished for +being on his own ground in pursuit of wild animals that he himself had +raised: this was so monstrous, that it was only necessary to name it to +excite the indignation of the country. And Mr. Deller has, by his spirit +and perseverance, by the coolness and the good sense which he has shown +throughout the whole of this proceeding, merited the commendation of +every man who is not in his heart an oppressor. It occurs to me to ask +here, who it is that finally <i>pays</i> for those “counsels’ opinions” which +Poulter and Wright said they took in the case of Mr. Deller; because, if +these counsels’ opinions are paid for by the county, and if a Justice of +the Peace can take as many counsels’ opinions as he chooses, I should +like to know what fellow, who chooses to put on a bobtail wig and call +himself a lawyer, may not have a good living given to him by any crony +Justice at the expense of the county. This never can be legal. It never +can be binding on the county to pay for these counsels’ opinions. +However, leaving this to be enquired into another time, we have here, in +Mr. Deller’s case, an instance of the worth of counsels’ opinions. Mr. +Deller went to the two Justices, showed them the Register with the Act +of Parliament in it, called upon them to act agreeably to that Act of +Parliament; but they chose to take counsels’ opinion first. The two +“counsel,” the two “lawyers,” the two “learned friends,” told them that +they were right in rejecting the application of Mr. Deller and in +binding him over for the assault; and, after all, this Grand Jury threw +out the Bill, and in that throwing out showed that they thought the +counsels’ opinions not worth a straw.</p> + +<p>Being upon the subject of matter connected with the conduct of these +Parson-Justices, I will here mention what is now going on in Hampshire +respecting the accounts of the <i>Treasurer of the County</i>. At the last +Quarter Sessions, or at a Meeting of the Magistrates previous to the +opening of the Sessions, there was a discussion relative to this matter. +The substance of which appears to have been this; that the Treasurer, +Mr. George Hollis, whose accounts had been audited, approved of, and +passed every year by the Magistrates, is in arrear to the county to the +amount of about four thousand pounds. Sir Thomas Baring appears to have +been the great stickler against Mr. Hollis, who was but feebly defended +by his friends. The Treasurer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> of a county is compelled to find +securities. These securities have become <i>exempted</i>, in consequence of +the annual passing of the accounts by the Magistrates! Nothing can be +more just than this exemption. I am security, suppose, for a Treasurer. +The Magistrates do not pass his accounts on account of a deficiency. I +make good the deficiency. But the Magistrates are not to go on year +after year passing his accounts, and then, at the end of several years, +come and call upon me to make good the deficiencies. Thus say the +securities of Mr. Hollis. The Magistrates, in fact, are to blame. One of +the Magistrates, a Reverend Mr. Orde, said that the Magistrates were +more to blame than the Treasurer; and really I think so too; for, though +Mr. Hollis has been a tool for many many years, of Old George Rose and +the rest of that crew, it seems impossible to believe that he could have +intended anything dishonest, seeing that the detection arose out of an +account published by himself in the newspaper, which account he need not +have published until three months later than the time when he did +publish it. This is, as he himself states, the best possible proof that +he was unconscious of any error or any deficiency. The fact appears to +be this; that Mr. Hollis, who has for many years been Under Sheriff as +well as Treasurer of the County, who holds several other offices, and +who has, besides, had large pecuniary transactions with his bankers, has +for years had his accounts so blended that he has not known how this +money belonging to the county stood. His own statement shows that it was +all a mass of confusion. The errors, he says, have arisen entirely from +the negligence of his clerks, and from causes which produced a confusion +in his accounts. This is the fact; but he has been in good fat offices +too long not to have made a great many persons think that his offices +would be better in <i>their</i> hands; and they appear resolved to oust him. +I, for my part, am glad of it; for I remember his coming up to me in the +Grand Jury Chamber, just after the people at St. Stephen’s had passed +Power-of-Imprisonment Bill in 1817; I remember his coming up to me as +the Under Sheriff of Willis, the man that we now call Flemming, who has +<i>begun</i> to build a house at North Stoneham; I remember his coming up to +me, and with all the base sauciness of a thorough-paced Pittite, +<i>telling me to disperse or he would take me into custody</i>! I remember +this of Mr. Hollis, and I am therefore glad that calamity has befallen +him; but I must say that after reading his own account of the matter; +after reading the debate of the Magistrates; and after hearing the +observations and opinions of well-informed and impartial persons in +Hampshire who dislike Mr. Hollis as much as I do; I must say that I +think him perfectly clear of all intention to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> commit anything like +fraud, or to make anything worthy of the name of false account; and I am +convinced that this affair, which will now prove extremely calamitous to +him, might have been laughed at by him at the time when wheat was +fifteen shillings a bushel. This change in the affairs of the +Government; this penury now experienced by the Pittites at Whitehall, +reaches, in its influence, to every part of the country. The Barings are +now the great men in Hampshire. They were not such in the days of George +Rose while George was able to make the people believe that it was +necessary to give their money freely to preserve the “blessed comforts +of religion.” George Rose would have thrown his shield over Mr. Hollis; +his broad and brazen shield. In Hampshire the <i>Bishop</i>, too, is changed. +The present is doubtless as pious as the last, every bit; and has the +same Bishop-like views; but it is not the same family; it is not the +Garniers and Poulters and Norths and De Grays and Haygarths; it is not +precisely the same set who have the power in their hands. Things, +therefore, take another turn. The Pittite jolter-heads are all +broken-backed; and the Barings come forward with their well-known weight +of metal. It was exceedingly unfortunate for Mr. Hollis that Sir Thomas +Baring happened to be against him. However, the thing will do good +altogether. The county is placed in a pretty situation: its Treasurer +has had his accounts regularly passed by the Magistrates; and these +Magistrates come at last and discover that they have for a long time +been passing accounts that they ought not to pass. These Magistrates +have exempted the securities of Mr. Hollis, but not a word do they say +about making good the deficiencies. What redress, then, have the people +of the county? They have no redress, unless they can obtain it by +petitioning the Parliament; and if they do not petition, if they do not +state their case, and that boldly too, they deserve everything that can +befall them from similar causes. I am astonished at the boldness of the +Magistrates. I am astonished that they should think of calling Mr. +Hollis to account without being prepared for rendering an account of +their own conduct. However, we shall see what they will do in the end. +And when we have seen that, we shall see whether the county will rest +quietly under the loss which it is likely to sustain.</p> + +<p>I must now go back to Itchen Abas, where, in the farm-yard of a farmer, +Courtenay, I saw another wheat-rick. From Itchen Abas I came up the +valley to Itchen Stoke. Soon after that I crossed the Itchen river, came +out into the Alresford turnpike road, and came on towards Alresford, +having the valley now upon my left. If the hay be down all the way to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +Southampton in the same manner that it is along here, there are +thousands of acres of hay rotting on the sides of this Itchen river. +Most of the meadows are watered artificially. The crops of grass are +heavy, and they appear to have been cut precisely in the right time to +be spoiled. Coming on towards Alresford, I saw a gentleman (about a +quarter of a mile beyond Alresford) coming out of his gate with his hat +off, looking towards the south-west, as if to see what sort of weather +it was likely to be. This was no other than Mr. Rolleston or Rawlinson, +who, it appears, has a box and some land here. This gentleman was, when +I lived in Hampshire, one of those worthy men, who, in the several +counties of England, executed “without any sort of remuneration” such a +large portion of that justice which is the envy of surrounding nations +and admiration of the world. We are often told, especially in +Parliament, of the <i>disinterestedness</i> of these persons; of their +worthiness, their piety, their loyalty, their excellent qualities of all +sorts, but particularly of their <i>disinterestedness</i>, in taking upon +them the office of Justice of the Peace; spending so much time, taking +so much trouble, and all for nothing at all, but for the pure love of +their King and country. And the worst of it is, that our Ministers +<i>impose</i> upon this disinterestedness and generosity; and, as in the case +of Mr. Rawlinson, at the end of, perhaps, a dozen years of <i>services</i> +voluntarily rendered to “King and country,” they force him, sorely +against his will, no doubt, to become a Police Magistrate in London! To +be sure there are five or six hundred pounds a-year of public money +attached to this; but what are these paltry pounds to a “country +gentleman,” who so disinterestedly rendered us services for so many +years? Hampshire is fertile in persons of this disinterested stamp. +There is a <i>’Squire</i> Greme, who lives across the country, not many miles +from the spot where I saw “Mr. Justice” Rawlinson. This ’Squire also has +served the country for nothing during a great many years; and of late +years, the ’Squire Junior, eager, apparently to emulate his sire, has +become a distributor of stamps for this famous county of Hants! What +<i>sons</i> ’Squire Rawlinson may have is more than I know at present, though +I will endeavour to know it, and to find out whether they also be +<i>serving</i> us. A great deal has been said about the debt of gratitude due +from the people to the Justices of the Peace. An account, containing the +names and places of abode of the Justices, and of the public money, or +titles, received by them and by their relations; such an account would +be a very useful thing. We should then know the real amount of this debt +of gratitude. We shall see such an account by-and-by; and we should have +seen it long ago if there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> had been, in a certain place, only one single +man disposed to do his duty.</p> + +<p>I came through Alresford about eight o’clock, having loitered a good +deal in coming up the valley. After quitting Alresford you come (on the +road towards Alton) to the village of Bishop’s Sutton; and then to a +place called Ropley Dean, where there is a house or two. Just before you +come to Ropley Dean, you see the beginning of the Valley of Itchen. The +<i>Itchen</i> river falls into the salt water at Southampton. It rises, or +rather has its first rise, just by the road side at Ropley Dean, which +is at the foot of that very high land which lies between Alresford and +Alton. All along by the Itchen river, up to its very source, there are +meadows; and this vale of meadows, which is about twenty-five miles in +length, and is in some places a mile wide, is, at the point of which I +am now speaking, only about twice as wide as my horse is long! This vale +of Itchen is worthy of particular attention. There are few spots in +England more fertile or more pleasant; and none, I believe, more +healthy. Following the bed of the river, or, rather, the middle of the +vale, it is about five-and-twenty miles in length, from Ropley Dean to +the village of South Stoneham, which is just above Southampton. The +average width of the meadows is, I should think, a hundred rods at the +least; and if I am right in this conjecture, the vale contains about +five thousand acres of meadows, large part of which is regularly +watered. The sides of the vale are, until you come down to within about +six or eight miles of Southampton, hills or rising grounds of chalk, +covered more or less thickly with loam. Where the hills rise up very +steeply from the valley the fertility of the corn-lands is not so great; +but for a considerable part of the way the corn-lands are excellent, and +the farmhouses, to which those lands belong, are, for the far greater +part, under covert of the hills on the edge of the valley. Soon after +the rising of the stream, it forms itself into some capital ponds at +Alresford. These, doubtless, were augmented by art, in order to supply +Winchester with fish. The fertility of this vale, and of the surrounding +country, is best proved by the fact that, besides the town of Alresford +and that of Southampton, there are seventeen villages, each having its +parish church, upon its borders. When we consider these things we are +not surprised that a spot situated about half way down this vale should +have been chosen for the building of a city, or that that city should +have been for a great number of years a place of residence for the Kings +of England.</p> + +<p>Winchester, which is at present a mere nothing to what it once was, +stands across the vale at a place where the vale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> is made very narrow by +the jutting forward of two immense hills. From the point where the river +passes through the city, you go, whether eastward or westward, a full +mile up a very steep hill all the way. The city is, of course, in one of +the deepest holes that can be imagined. It never could have been thought +of as a place to be defended since the discovery of gunpowder; and, +indeed, one would think that very considerable annoyance might be given +to the inhabitants even by the flinging of the flint-stones from the +hills down into the city.</p> + +<p>At Ropley Dean, before I mounted the hill to come on towards Rotherham +Park, I baited my horse. Here the ground is precisely like that at +Ashmansworth on the borders of Berkshire, which, indeed, I could see +from the ground of which I am now speaking. In coming up the hill, I had +the house and farm of Mr. Duthy to my right. Seeing some very fine +Swedish turnips, I naturally expected that they belonged to this +gentleman, who is Secretary to the Agricultural Society of Hampshire; +but I found that they belonged to a farmer Mayhew. The soil is, along +upon this high land, a deep loam, bordering on a clay, red in colour, +and pretty full of large, rough, yellow-looking stones, very much like +some of the land in Huntingdonshire; but here is a bed of chalk under +this. Everything is backward here. The wheat is perfectly green in most +places; but it is everywhere pretty good. I have observed, all the way +along, that the wheat is good upon the stiff, strong land. It is so +here; but it is very backward. The greater part of it is full three +weeks behind the wheat under Portsdown Hill. But few farmhouses come +within my sight along here; but in one of them there was a wheat-rick, +which is the third I have seen since I quitted the Wen. In descending +from this high ground, in order to reach the village of East Tisted, +which lies on the turnpike road from the Wen to Gosport through Alton, I +had to cross Rotherham Park. On the right of the park, on a bank of land +facing the north-east, I saw a very pretty farmhouse, having everything +in excellent order, with fine corn-fields about it, and with a +wheat-rick standing in the yard. This farm, as I afterwards found, +belongs to the owner of Rotherham Park, who is also the owner of East +Tisted, who has recently built a new house in the park, who has quite +metamorphosed the village of Tisted within these eight years, who has, +indeed, really and truly improved the whole country just round about +here, whose name is Scot, well known as a brickmaker at North End, +Fulham, and who has, in Hampshire, supplanted a Norman of the name of +Powlet. The process by which this transfer has taken place is visible +enough, to all eyes but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> eyes of the jolterheads. Had there been no +Debt created to crush liberty in France and to keep down reformers in +England, Mr. Scot would not have had bricks to burn to build houses for +the Jews and jobbers and other eaters of taxes; and the Norman Powlet +would not have had to pay in taxes, through his own hands and those of +his tenants and labourers, the amount of the estate at Tisted, first to +be given to the Jews, jobbers, and tax-eaters, and then by them to be +given to “’Squire Scot” for his bricks. However, it is not ’Squire Scot +who has assisted to pass laws to make people pay double toll on a +Sunday. ’Squire Scot had nothing to do with passing the New Game-laws +and Old Ellenborough’s Act; ’Squire Scot never invented the New Trespass +law, in virtue of which John Cockbain of Whitehaven in the county of +Cumberland was, by two clergymen and three other magistrates of that +county, sentenced to pay one half-penny for damages and seven shillings +costs, for going upon a field, the property of William, Earl of +Lonsdale. In the passing of this Act, which was one of the first passed +in the present reign, ’Squire Scot, the brickmaker, had nothing to do. +Go on, good ’Squire, thrust out some more of the Normans: with the +fruits of the augmentations which you make to the Wen, go, and take from +them their mansions, parks, and villages!</p> + +<p>At Tisted I crossed the turnpike road before mentioned, and entered a +lane which, at the end of about four miles, brought me to this village +of Selborne. My readers will recollect that I mentioned this Selborne +when I was giving an account of Hawkley Hanger, last fall. I was +desirous of seeing this village, about which I have read in the book of +Mr. White, and which a reader has been so good as to send me. From +Tisted I came generally up hill till I got within half a mile of this +village, when, all of a sudden, I came to the edge of a hill, looked +down over all the larger vale of which the little vale of this village +makes a part. Here Hindhead and Black-down Hill came full in my view. +When I was crossing the forest in Sussex, going from Worth to Horsham, +these two great hills lay to my west and north-west. To-day I am got +just on the opposite side of them, and see them, of course, towards the +east and the south-east, while Leith Hill lies away towards the +north-east. This hill, from which you descend down into Selborne, is +very lofty; but, indeed, we are here amongst some of the highest hills +in the island, and amongst the sources of rivers. The hill over which I +have come this morning sends the Itchen river forth from one side of it, +and the river Wey, which rises near Alton, from the opposite side of it. +Hindhead which lies before me, sends, as I observed upon a former +occasion, the Arun forth towards the south and a stream forth towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +the north, which meets the river Wey, somewhere above Godalming. I am +told that the springs of these two streams rise in the Hill of Hindhead, +or, rather, on one side of the hill, at not many yards from each other. +The village of Selborne is precisely what it is described by Mr. White. +A straggling irregular street, bearing all the marks of great antiquity, +and showing, from its lanes and its vicinage generally, that it was once +a very considerable place. I went to look at the spot where Mr. White +supposes the convent formerly stood. It is very beautiful. Nothing can +surpass in beauty these dells and hillocks and hangers, which last are +so steep that it is impossible to ascend them, except by means of a +serpentine path. I found here deep hollow ways, with beds and sides of +solid white stone; but not quite so white and so solid, I think, as the +stone which I found in the roads at Hawkley. The churchyard of Selborne +is most beautifully situated. The land is good, all about it. The trees +are luxuriant and prone to be lofty and large. I measured the yew-tree +in the churchyard, and found the trunk to be, according to my +measurement, twenty-three feet, eight inches, in circumference. The +trunk is very short, as is generally the case with yew-trees; but the +head spreads to a very great extent, and the whole tree, though probably +several centuries old, appears to be in perfect health. Here are several +hop-plantations in and about this village; but for this once the prayers +of the over-production men will be granted, and the devil of any hops +there will be. The bines are scarcely got up the poles; the bines and +the leaves are black, nearly, as soot; full as black as a sooty bag or +dingy coal-sack, and covered with lice. It is a pity that these +hop-planters could not have a parcel of Spaniards and Portuguese to +louse their hops for them. Pretty devils to have liberty, when a +favourite recreation of the Donna is to crack the lice in the head of +the Don! I really shrug up my shoulders thinking of the beasts. Very +different from such is my landlady here at Selborne, who, while I am +writing my notes, is getting me a rasher of bacon, and has already +covered the table with a nice clean cloth. I have never seen such +quantities of grapes upon any vines as I see upon the vines in this +village, badly pruned as all the vines have been. To be sure, this is a +year for grapes, such, I believe, as has been seldom known in England, +and the cause is the perfect ripening of the wood by the last beautiful +summer. I am afraid, however, that the grapes come in vain; for this +summer has been so cold, and is now so wet, that we can hardly expect +grapes which are not under glass to ripen. As I was coming into this +village, I observed to a farmer who was standing at his gateway, that +people ought to be happy here, for that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> God had done everything for +them. His answer was, that he did not believe there was a more unhappy +place in England: for that there were always quarrels of some sort or +other going on. This made me call to mind the King’s proclamation, +relative to a reward for discovering the person who had recently <i>shot +at the parson of this village</i>. This parson’s name is Cobbold, and it +really appears that there was a shot fired through his window. He has +had law-suits with the people; and I imagine that it was these to which +the farmer alluded. The hops are of considerable importance to the +village, and their failure must necessarily be attended with +consequences very inconvenient to the whole of a population so small as +this. Upon inquiry, I find that the hops are equally bad at Alton, +Froyle, Crondall, and even at Farnham. I saw them bad in Sussex; I hear +that they are bad in Kent; so that hop-planters, at any rate, will be, +for once, free from the dreadful evils of abundance. A correspondent +asks me what is meant by the statements which he sees in the <i>Register</i>, +relative to the <i>hop-duty</i>? He sees it, he says, continually falling in +amount; and he wonders what this means. The thing has not, indeed, been +properly explained. It is a <i>gamble</i>; and it is hardly right for me to +state, in a publication like the <i>Register</i>, anything relative to a +gamble. However, the case is this: a taxing system is necessarily a +system of gambling; a system of betting; stock-jobbing is no more than a +system of betting, and the wretched dogs that carry on the traffic are +little more, except that they are more criminal, than the waiters at an +<i>E O Table</i>, or the markers at billiards. The hop duty is so much per +pound. The duty was imposed at two separate times. One part of it, +therefore, is called the Old Duty, and the other part the New Duty. The +old duty was a penny to the pound of hops. The amount of this duty, +which can always be ascertained at the Treasury as soon as the hopping +season is over, is the surest possible guide in ascertaining the total +amount of the growth of hops for the year. If, for instance, the duty +were to amount to no more than eight shillings and fourpence, you would +be certain that only a hundred pounds of hops had been grown during the +year. Hence a system of gambling precisely like the gambling in the +funds. I bet you that the duty will not exceed so much. The duty has +sometimes exceeded two hundred thousand pounds. This year it is supposed +that it will not exceed twenty, thirty, or forty thousand. The gambling +fellows are betting all this time; and it is, in fact, an account of the +betting which is inserted in the <i>Register</i>.</p> + +<p>This vile paper-money and funding-system; this system of Dutch descent, +begotten by Bishop Burnet, and born in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> hell; this system has turned +everything into a gamble. There are hundreds of men who live by being +the agents to carry on gambling. They reside here in the Wen; many of +the gamblers live in the country; they write up to their gambling agent, +whom they call their stockbroker; he gambles according to their order; +and they receive the profit or stand to the loss. Is it possible to +conceive a viler calling than that of an agent for the carrying on of +gambling? And yet the vagabonds call themselves gentlemen; or, at least, +look upon themselves as the superiors of those who sweep the kennels. In +like manner is the hop-gamble carried on. The gambling agents in the Wen +make the bets for the gamblers in the country; and, perhaps, millions +are betted during the year, upon the amount of a duty, which, at the +most, scarcely exceeds a quarter of a million. In such a state of things +how are you to expect young men to enter on a course of patient +industry? How are you to expect that they will seek to acquire fortune +and fame by study or by application of any kind?</p> + +<p>Looking back over the road that I have come to-day, and perceiving the +direction of the road going from this village in another direction, I +perceive that this is a very direct road from Winchester to Farnham. The +road, too, appears to have been, from ancient times, sufficiently wide; +and when the Bishop of Winchester selected this beautiful spot whereon +to erect a monastery, I dare say the roads along here were some of the +best in the country.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursley (Surrey),<br />Thursday, 7th August.</i></p> + +<p>I got a boy at Selborne to show me along the lanes out into Woolmer +forest on my way to Headley. The lanes were very deep; the wet <i>malme</i> +just about the colour of rye-meal mixed up with water, and just about as +clammy, came in many places very nearly up to my horse’s belly. There +was this comfort, however, that I was sure that there was a bottom, +which is by no means the case when you are among clays or quick-sands. +After going through these lanes, and along between some fir-plantations, +I came out upon Woolmer Forest, and, to my great satisfaction, soon +found myself on the side of those identical plantations which have been +made under the orders of the smooth Mr. Huskisson, and which I noticed +last year in my ride from Hambledon to this place. These plantations are +of fir, or, at least, I could see nothing else, and they never can be of +any more use to the nation than the sprigs of heath which cover the rest +of the forest. Is there nobody to inquire what becomes of the income of +the Crown lands? No, and there never will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> be, until the whole system be +changed. I have seldom ridden on pleasanter ground than that which I +found between Woolmer Forest and this beautiful village of Thursley. The +day has been fine, too; notwithstanding I saw the Judges’ terrific wigs +as I came up upon the turnpike road from the village of Itchen. I had +but one little scud during the day: just enough for St. Swithin to swear +by; but when I was upon the hills I saw some showers going about the +country. From Selborne, I had first to come to Headley, about five +miles. I came to the identical public-house where I took my blind guide +last year, who took me such a dance to the southward, and led me up to +the top of Hindhead at last. I had no business there. My route was +through a sort of hamlet called Churt, which lies along on the side and +towards the foot of the north of Hindhead, on which side, also, lies the +village of Thursley. A line is hardly more straight than is the road +from Headley to Thursley; and a prettier ride I never had in the course +of my life. It was not the less interesting from the circumstance of its +giving me all the way a full view of Crooksbury Hill, the grand scene of +my exploits when I was a taker of the nests of crows and magpies.</p> + +<p>At Churt I had, upon my left, three hills out upon the common, called +the <i>Devil’s Jumps</i>. The Unitarians will not believe in the Trinity, +because they cannot account for it. Will they come here to Churt, go and +look at these “Devil’s Jumps,” and account to me for the placing of +these three hills, in the shape of three rather squat sugar-loaves, +along in a line upon this heath, or the placing of a rock-stone upon the +top of one of them as big as a church tower? For my part, I cannot +account for this placing of these hills. That they should have been +formed by mere chance is hardly to be believed. How could waters rolling +about have formed such hills? How could such hills have bubbled up from +beneath? But, in short, it is all wonderful alike: the stripes of loam +running down through the chalk-hills; the circular parcels of loam in +the midst of chalk-hills; the lines of flint running parallel with each +other horizontally along the chalk-hills; the flints placed in circles +as true as a hair in the chalk-hills; the layers of stone at the bottom +of hills of loam; the chalk first soft, then some miles further on, +becoming chalk-stone; then, after another distance, becoming burr-stone, +as they call it; and at last becoming hard, white stone, fit for any +buildings; the sand-stone at Hindhead becoming harder and harder till it +becomes very nearly iron in Herefordshire, and quite iron in Wales; but, +indeed, they once dug iron out of this very Hindhead. The clouds, coming +and settling upon the hills, sinking down and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> creeping along, at last +coming out again in springs, and those becoming rivers. Why, it is all +equally wonderful, and as to not believing in this or that, because the +thing cannot be proved by logical deduction, why is any man to believe +in the existence of a God any more than he is to believe in the doctrine +of the Trinity? For my part, I think the “Devil’s jumps,” as the people +here call them, full as wonderful and no more wonderful than hundreds +and hundreds of other wonderful things. It is a strange taste which our +ancestors had, to ascribe no inconsiderable part of these wonders of +nature to the Devil. Not far from the Devil’s jumps is that singular +place which resembles a sugar-loaf inverted, hollowed out, and an +outside rim only left. This is called the “<i>Devil’s Punch Bowl</i>;” and it +is very well known in Wiltshire, that the forming, or, perhaps, it is +the breaking up, of Stonehenge is ascribed to the Devil, and that the +mark of one of his feet is now said to be seen in one of the stones.</p> + +<p>I got to Thursley about sunset, and without experiencing any +inconvenience from the wet. I have mentioned the state of the corn as +far as Selborne. On this side of that village I find it much forwarder +than I found it between Selborne and Ropley Dean. I am here got into +some of the very best barley-land in the kingdom; a fine, buttery, +stoneless loam, upon a bottom of sand or sand-stone. Finer barley and +turnip-land it is impossible to see. All the corn is good here. The +wheat not a heavy crop; but not a light one; and the barley all the way +along from Headley to this place as fine, if not finer, than I ever saw +it in my life. Indeed I have not seen a bad field of barley since I left +the Wen. The corn is not so forward here as under Portsdown Hill; but +some farmers intend to begin reaping wheat in a few days. It is +monstrous to suppose that the price of corn will not come down. It must +come down, good weather or bad weather. If the weather be bad, it will +be so much the worse for the farmer, as well as for the nation at large, +and can be of no benefit to any human being but the Quakers, who must +now be pretty busy, measuring the crops all over the kingdom. It will be +recollected that in the Report of the Agricultural Committee of 1821, it +appeared, from the evidence of one Hodgson, a partner of Cropper, +Benson, and Co. Quakers, of Liverpool, that these Quakers sent a set of +corn-gaugers into the several counties, just before every harvest; that +these fellows stopped here and there, went into the fields, measured off +square yards of wheat, clipped off the ears, and carried them off. These +they afterwards packed up and sent off to Cropper and Co. at Liverpool. +When the whole of the packets were got together, they were rubbed out, +measured,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> weighed, and an estimate made of the amount of the coming +crop. This, according to the confession of Hodgson himself, enabled +these Quakers to speculate in corn, with the greater chance of gain. +This has been done by these men for many years. Their disregard of +worldly things; their desire to lay up treasures in heaven; their +implicit yielding to the Spirit; these have induced them to send their +corn-gaugers over the country regularly year after year; and I will +engage that they are at it at this moment. The farmers will bear in mind +that the New Trespass-law, though clearly not intended for any such +purpose, enables them to go and seize by the throat any of these gaugers +that they may catch in their fields. They could not do this formerly; to +cut off standing corn was merely a trespass, for which satisfaction was +to be attained by action at law. But now you can seize the caitiff who +is come as a spy amongst your corn. Before, he could be off and leave +you to find out his name as you could; but now you can lay hold of him, +as Mr. Deller did of the Duke’s man, and bring him before a Magistrate +at once. I do hope that the farmers will look sharp out for these +fellows, who are neither more nor less than so many spies. They hold a +great deal of corn; they want blight, mildew, rain, hurricanes; but +happy I am to see that they will get no blight, at any rate. The grain +is formed; everywhere everybody tells me that there is no blight in any +sort of corn, except in the beans.</p> + +<p>I have not gone through much of a bean country. The beans that I have +seen are some of them pretty good, more of them but middling, and still +more of them very indifferent.</p> + +<p>I am very happy to hear that that beautiful little bird, the American +partridge, has been introduced with success to this neighbourhood, by +Mr. Leech at Lea. I am told that they have been heard whistling this +summer; that they have been frequently seen, and that there is no doubt +that they have broods of young ones. I tried several times to import +some of these birds; but I always lost them, by some means or other, +before the time arrived for turning them out. They are a beautiful +little partridge, and extremely interesting in all their manner. Some +persons call them <i>quail</i>. If any one will take a quail and compare it +with one of these birds, he will see that they cannot be of the same +sort. In my “Year’s Residence in America,” I have, I think, clearly +proved that these birds are partridges, and not quails. In the United +States, north of New Jersey, they are called quail: south and south-west +of New Jersey they are called partridges. They have been called quail +solely on account of their size; for they have none of the manners of +quail belonging to them. Quails assemble in flocks like larks,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +starlings, or rooks. Partridges keep in distinct coveys; that is to say, +the brood lives distinct from all other broods until the ensuing spring, +when it forms itself into pairs and separates. Nothing can be a +distinction more clear than this. Our own partridges stick to the same +spot from the time that they are hatched to the time that they pair off, +and these American partridges do the same. Quails, like larks, get +together in flocks at the approach of winter, and move about according +to the season, to a greater or less distance from the place where they +were bred. These, therefore, which have been brought to Thursley, are +partridges; and if they be suffered to live quietly for a season or two, +they will stock the whole of that part of the country, where the +delightful intermixture of corn-fields, coppices, heaths, furze-fields, +ponds, and rivulets is singularly favourable to their increase.</p> + +<p>The turnips cannot fail to be good in such a season and in such land; +yet the farmers are most dreadfully tormented with the weeds, and with +the superabundant turnips. Here, my Lord Liverpool, is over production +indeed! They have sown their fields broad-cast; they have no means of +destroying the weeds by the plough; they have no intervals to bury them +in; and they <i>hoe</i>, or <i>scratch</i>, as Mr. Tull calls it; and then comes +St. Swithin and sets the weeds and the hoed-up turnips again. Then there +is another hoeing or scratching; and then comes St. Swithin again: so +that there is hoe, hoe, muddle, muddle, and such a fretting and stewing; +such a looking up to Hindhead to see when it is going to be fine; when, +if that beautiful field of twenty acres, which I have now before my +eyes, and wherein I see half a dozen men hoeing and poking and muddling, +looking up to see how long it is before they must take to their heels to +get under the trees to obtain shelter from the coming shower; when, I +say, if that beautiful field had been sowed upon ridges at four feet +apart, according to the plan in my <i>Year’s Residence</i>, not a weed would +have been to be seen in the field, the turnip-plants would have been +three times the size that they now are, the expense would have not been +a fourth part of that which has already taken place, and all the +muddling and poking about of weeds, and all the fretting and all the +stewing would have been spared; and as to the amount of the crop, I am +now looking at the best land in England for Swedish turnips, and I have +no scruple to assert that if it had been sown after my manner, it would +have had a crop double the weight of that which it now will have. I +think I know of a field of turnips, sown much later than the field now +before me, and sown in rows at nearly four feet apart, which have a crop +double the weight of that which will be produced in yon beautiful field.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Reigate (Surrey),<br />Friday, 8th August.</i></p> + +<p>At the end of a long, twisting-about ride, but a most delightful ride, I +got to this place about nine o’clock in the evening. From Thursley I +came to Brook, and there crossed the turnpike-road from London to +Chichester through Godalming and Midhurst. Thence I came on, turning +upon the left upon the sand-hills of Hambledon (in Surrey, mind). On one +of these hills is one of those precious jobs, called “<i>Semaphores</i>.” For +what reason this pretty name is given to a sort of Telegraph house, +stuck up at public expense upon a high hill; for what reason this +outlandish name is given to the thing, I must leave the reader to guess; +but as to the thing itself; I know that it means this: a pretence for +giving a good sum of the public money away every year to some one that +the Borough-system has condemned this labouring and toiling nation to +provide for. The Dead Weight of nearly about six millions sterling a +year; that is to say, this curse entailed upon the country on account of +the late wars against the liberties of the French people, this Dead +Weight is, however, falling, in part, at least, upon the landed +jolterheads who were so eager to create it, and who thought that no part +of it would fall upon themselves. Theirs has been a grand mistake. They +saw the war carried on without any loss or any cost to themselves. By +the means of paper-money and loans, the labouring classes were made to +pay the whole of the expenses of the war. When the war was over, the +jolterheads thought they would get gold back again to make all secure; +and some of them really said, I am told, that it was high time to put an +end to the gains of the paper-money people. The jolterheads quite +overlooked the circumstance that, in returning to gold, they doubled and +trebled what they had to pay on account of the debt, and that, at last, +they were bringing the burden upon themselves. Grand, also, was the +mistake of the jolterheads when they approved of the squanderings upon +the Dead Weight. They thought that the labouring classes were going to +pay the whole of the expenses of the Knights of Waterloo, and of the +other heroes of the war. The jolterheads thought that they should have +none of this to pay. Some of them had relations belonging to the Dead +Weight, and all of them were willing to make the labouring classes toil +like asses for the support of those who had what was called “fought and +bled” for Gatton and Old Sarum. The jolterheads have now found, however, +that a pretty good share of the expense is to fall upon themselves. +Their mortagees are letting them know that <i>Semaphores</i> and such pretty +things cost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> something, and that it is unreasonable for a loyal country +gentleman, a friend of “social order” and of the “blessed comforts of +religion” to expect to have Semaphores and to keep his estate too.</p> + +<p>This Dead Weight is, unquestionably, a thing, such as the world never +saw before. Here are not only a tribe of pensioned naval and military +officers, commissaries, quartermasters, pursers, and God knows what +besides; not only these, but their wives and children are to be +pensioned, after the death of the heroes themselves. Nor does it +signify, it seems, whether the hero were married before he became part +of the Dead Weight or since. Upon the death of the man, the pension is +to begin with the wife, and a pension for each child; so that, if there +be a large family of children, the family, in many cases, actually gains +by the death of the father! Was such a thing as this ever before heard +of in the world? Any man that is going to die has nothing to do but to +marry a girl to give her a pension for life to be paid out of the sweat +of the people; and it was distinctly stated, during the Session of +Parliament before the last, that the widows and children of insane +officers were to have the same treatment as the rest! Here is the envy +of surrounding nations and the admiration of the world! In addition, +then, to twenty thousand parsons, more than twenty thousand +stock-brokers and stock-jobbers perhaps; forty or fifty thousand +tax-gatherers; thousands upon thousands of military and naval officers +in full pay; in addition to all these, here are the thousands upon +thousands of pairs of this Dead Weight, all busily engaged in breeding +gentlemen and ladies; and all while Malthus is wanting to put a check +upon the breeding of the labouring classes; all receiving a <i>premium for +breeding</i>! Where is Malthus? Where is this check-population parson? +Where are his friends, the Edinburgh Reviewers? Faith, I believe they +have given him up. They begin to be ashamed of giving countenance to a +man who wants to check the breeding of those who labour, while he says +not a word about those two hundred thousand breeding pairs, whose +offspring are necessarily to be maintained at the public charge. Well +may these fatteners upon the labour of others rail against the Radicals! +Let them once take the fan to their hand, and they will, I warrant it, +thoroughly purge the floor. However, it is a consolation to know, that +the jolterheads who have been the promoters of the measures that have +led to these heavy charges; it is a consolation to know that the +jolterheads have now to bear part of the charges, and that they cannot +any longer make them fall exclusively upon the shoulders of the +labouring classes. The disgust that one feels at seeing the whiskers, +and hearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> the copper heels rattle, is in some measure compensated for +by the reflection, that the expense of them is now beginning to fall +upon the malignant and tyrannical jolterheads who are the principal +cause of their being created.</p> + +<p>Bidding the <i>Semaphore</i> good-bye, I came along by the church at +Hambledon, and then crossed a little common and the turnpike-road from +London to Chichester through Godalming and Petworth; not Midhurst, as +before. The turnpike-road here is one of the best that I ever saw. It is +like the road upon Horley Common, near Worth, and like that between +Godstone and East Grinstead; and the cause of this is, that it is made +of precisely the same sort of stone, which, they tell me, is brought, in +some cases, even from Blackdown Hill, which cannot be less, I should +think, than twelve miles distant. This stone is brought, in great lumps, +and then cracked into little pieces. The next village I came to after +Hambledon was Hascomb, famous for its <i>beech</i>, insomuch that it is +called <i>Hascomb Beech</i>.</p> + +<p>There are two lofty hills here, between which you go out of the sandy +country down into the Weald. Here are hills of all heights and forms. +Whether they came in consequence of a boiling of the earth, I know not; +but, in form, they very much resemble the bubbles upon the top of the +water of a pot which is violently boiling. The soil is a beautiful loam +upon a bed of sand. Springs start here and there at the feet of the +hills; and little rivulets pour away in all directions. The roads are +difficult merely on account of their extreme unevenness; the bottom is +everywhere sound, and everything that meets the eye is beautiful; trees, +coppices, corn-fields, meadows; and then the distant views in every +direction. From one spot I saw this morning Hindhead, Blackdown Hill, +Lord Egremont’s house and park at Petworth, Donnington Hill, over which +I went to go on the South Downs, the South Downs near Lewes; the forest +at Worth, Turner’s Hill, and then all the way round into Kent and back +to the Surrey Hills at Godstone. From Hascomb I began to descend into +the low country. I had Leith Hill before me; but my plan was, not to go +over it or any part of it, but to go along below it in the real Weald of +Surrey. A little way back from Hascomb, I had seen <i>a field of carrots</i>; +and now I was descending into a country where, strictly speaking, only +three things will grow well,—grass, wheat, and oak trees. At Goose +Green I crossed a turnpike-road leading from Guildford to Horsham and +Arundel. I next came, after crossing a canal, to a common called +Smithwood Common. Leith Hill was full in front of me, but I turned away +to the right, and went through the lanes to come to Ewhurst, leaving +Crawley to my right. Before I got to Ewhurst, I crossed another +turnpike-road, leading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> from Guildford to Horsham, and going on to +Worthing or some of those towns.</p> + +<p>At Ewhurst, which is a very pretty village, and the Church of which is +most delightfully situated, I treated my horse to some oats, and myself +to a rasher of bacon. I had now to come, according to my project, round +among the lanes at about a couple of miles distance from the foot of +Leith Hill, in order to get first to Ockley, then to Holmwood, and then +to Reigate. From Ewhurst the first three miles was the deepest clay that +I ever saw, to the best of my recollection. I was warned of the +difficulty of getting along; but I was not to be frightened at the sound +of clay. Wagons, too, had been dragged along the lanes by some means or +another; and where a wagon-horse could go, my horse could go. It took +me, however, a good hour and a half to get along these three miles. Now, +mind, this is the real <i>weald</i>, where the clay is <i>bottomless</i>; where +there is no stone of any sort underneath, as at Worth and all along from +Crawley to Billingshurst through Horsham. This clayey land is fed with +water soaking from the sand-hills; and in this particular place from the +immense hill of Leith. All along here the oak-woods are beautiful. I saw +scores of acres by the road-side, where the young oaks stood as +regularly as if they had been planted. The orchards are not bad along +here, and, perhaps, they are a good deal indebted to the shelter they +receive. The wheat very good, all through the weald, but backward.</p> + +<p>At Ockley I passed the house of a Mr. Steer, who has a great quantity of +hay-land, which is very pretty. Here I came along the turnpike-road that +leads from Dorking to Horsham. When I got within about two or three +miles of Dorking, I turned off to the right, came across the Holmwood +into the lanes leading down to Gadbrook Common, which has of late years +been enclosed. It is all clay here; but in the whole of my ride I have +not seen much finer fields of wheat than I saw here. Out of these lanes +I turned up to “Betchworth” (I believe it is), and from Betchworth came +along a chalk-hill to my left and the sand-hills to my right, till I got +to this place.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Wen,<br />Sunday, 10th August.</i></p> + +<p>I stayed at Reigate yesterday, and came to the Wen to-day, every step of +the way in a rain; as good a soaking as any devotee of St. Swithin ever +underwent for his sake. I promised that I would give an account of the +effect which the soaking on the South Downs, on Saturday the 2nd +instant, had upon the hooping-cough. I do not recommend the remedy to +others; but this I will say, that I had a spell of the hooping-cough, +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> day before I got that soaking, and that I have not had a single +spell since; though I have slept in several different beds, and got a +second soaking in going from Botley to Easton. The truth is, I believe, +that rain upon the South Downs, or at any place near the sea, is by no +means the same thing with rain in the interior. No man ever catches cold +from getting wet with sea-water; and, indeed, I have never known an +instance of a man catching cold at sea. The air upon the South Downs is +saltish, I dare say; and the clouds may bring something a little +partaking of the nature of sea-water.</p> + +<p>At Thursley I left the turnip-hoers poking and pulling and muddling +about the weeds, and wholly incapable, after all, of putting the turnips +in anything like the state in which they ought to be. The weeds that had +been hoed up twice were growing again, and it was the same with the +turnips that had been hoed up. In leaving Reigate this morning, it was +with great pleasure that I saw a field of Swedish turnips, drilled upon +ridges at about four feet distance, the whole field as clean as the +cleanest of garden ground. The turnips standing at equal distances in +the row, and having the appearance of being, in every respect, in a +prosperous state. I should not be afraid to bet that these turnips, thus +standing in rows at nearly four feet distance, will be a crop twice as +large as any in the parish of Thursley, though there is, I imagine, some +of the finest turnip-land in the kingdom. It seems strange that men are +not to be convinced of the advantage of the row-culture for turnips. +They will insist upon believing that there is some <i>ground lost</i>. They +will also insist upon believing that the row-culture is the most +expensive. How can there be ground lost if the crop be larger? And as to +the expense, take one year with another, the broad-cast method must be +twice as expensive as the other. Wet as it has been to-day, I took time +to look well about me as I came along. The wheat, even in this +ragamuffin part of the country, is good, with the exception of one +piece, which lies on your left hand as you come down from Banstead Down. +It is very good at Banstead itself, though that is a country +sufficiently poor. Just on the other side of Sutton there is a little +good land, and in a place or two I thought I saw the wheat a little +blighted. A labouring man told me that it was where the heaps of dung +had been laid. The barley here is most beautiful, as, indeed, it is all +over the country.</p> + +<p>Between Sutton and the Wen there is, in fact, little besides houses, +gardens, grass plats and other matters to accommodate the Jews and +jobbers, and the mistresses and bastards that are put out a-keeping. +But, in a dell, which the turnpike-road crosses about a mile on this +side of Sutton, there are two fields of as stiff<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> land, I think, as I +ever saw in my life. In summer time this land bakes so hard that they +cannot plough it unless it be wet. When you have ploughed it, and the +sun comes again, it bakes again. One of these fields had been thus +ploughed and cross-ploughed in the month of June, and I saw the ground +when it was lying in lumps of the size of portmanteaus, and not very +small ones either. It would have been impossible to reduce this ground +to small particles, except by the means of sledge hammers. The two +fields, to which I alluded just now, are alongside of this ploughed +field, and they are now in wheat. The heavy rain of to-day, aided by the +south-west wind, made the wheat bend pretty nearly to lying down; but +you shall rarely see two finer fields of wheat. It is red wheat; a +coarsish kind, and the straw stout and strong; but the ears are long, +broad and full; and I did not perceive anything approaching towards a +speck in the straw. Such land as this, such very stiff land, seldom +carries a very large crop; but I should think that these fields would +exceed four quarters to an acre; and the wheat is by no means so +backward as it is in some places. There is no corn, that I recollect, +from the spot just spoken of, to almost the street of Kensington. I came +up by Earl’s Court, where there is, amongst the market gardens, a field +of wheat. One would suppose that this must be the finest wheat in the +world. By no means. It rained hard, to be sure, and I had not much time +for being particular in my survey; but this field appears to me to have +some blight in it; and as to crop, whether of corn or of straw, it is +nothing to compare to the general run of the wheat in the wealds of +Sussex or of Surrey; what, then, is it, if compared with the wheat on +the South Downs, under Portsdown Hill, on the sea-flats at Havant and at +Tichfield, and along on the banks of the Itchen!</p> + +<p>Thus I have concluded this “rural ride,” from the Wen and back again to +the Wen, being, taking in all the turnings and windings, as near as can +be, two hundred miles in length. My objects were to ascertain the state +of the crops, both of hops and of corn. The hop-affair is soon settled, +for there will be no hops. As to the corn, my remark is this: that on +all the clays, on all the stiff lands upon the chalk; on all the rich +lands, indeed, but more especially on all the stiff lands, the wheat is +as good as I recollect ever to have seen it, and has as much straw. On +all the light lands and poor lands the wheat is thin, and, though not +short, by no means good. The oats are pretty good almost everywhere; and +I have not seen a bad field of barley during the whole of my ride; +though there is no species of soil in England, except that of the fens, +over which I have not passed. The state of the farmers is much worse +than it was last year, notwithstanding the ridiculous falsehoods of the +London <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>newspapers, and the more ridiculous delusion of the jolterheads. +In numerous instances the farmers, who continue in their farms, have +ceased to farm for themselves, and merely hold the land for the +landlords. The delusion caused by the rise of the price of corn has +pretty nearly vanished already; and if St. Swithin would but get out of +the way with his drippings for about a month, this delusion would +disappear, never to return. In the meanwhile, however, the London +newspapers are doing what they can to keep up the delusion; and in a +paper called <i>Bell’s Weekly Messenger</i>, edited, I am told, by a +place-hunting lawyer; in that stupid paper of this day I find the +following passage:—“So late as January last, the average price of wheat +was 39<i>s.</i> per quarter, and on the 29th ult. it was above 62<i>s.</i> As it +has been rising ever since, it may <i>now be quoted as little under 65s.</i> +So that in this article alone there is a rise of more than <i>thirty-five</i> +per cent. Under these circumstances, it is not likely that we shall hear +anything of <i>agricultural distress</i>. A writer of considerable talents, +but no prophet, had <i>frightened</i> the kingdom by a confident prediction +that wheat, after the 1st of May, would sink to 4<i>s.</i> per bushel, and +that under the effects of Mr. Peel’s Bill, and the payments in cash by +the Bank of England, it would <i>never again exceed that price</i>! Nay, so +assured was Mr. Cobbett of the mathematical certainty of his deductions +on the subject, that he did not hesitate to make use of the following +language: ‘And farther, if what I say do not come to pass, I will give +any one leave to broil me on a gridiron, and for that purpose I will get +one of the best gridirons I can possibly get made, and it shall be hung +out as near to my premises as possible, in the Strand, so that it shall +be seen by everybody as they pass along.’ The 1st of May has now passed, +Mr. Peel’s Bill has not been repealed, and the Bank of England has paid +its notes in cash, and yet wheat has risen nearly 40 per cent.”</p> + +<p>Here is a tissue of falsehoods! But only think of a country being +“<i>frightened</i>” by the prospect of a low price of provisions! When such +an idea can possibly find its way even into the shallow brain of a +cracked-skull lawyer; when such an idea can possibly be put into print +at any rate, there must be something totally wrong in the state of the +country. Here is this lawyer telling his readers that I had frightened +the kingdom by saying that wheat would be sold at four shillings a +bushel. Again I say that there must be something wrong, something +greatly out of place, some great disease at work in the community, or +such an idea as this could never have found its way <i>into print</i>. Into +the head of a cracked-skull lawyer it might, perhaps, have entered at +any time; but for it to find its way into print there must be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> something +in the state of society wholly out of joint. As to the rest of this +article, it is a tissue of downright lies. The writer says that the +price of wheat is sixty-five shillings a quarter. The fact is that, on +the second instant, the price was fifty-nine shillings and seven-pence: +and it is now about two shillings less than that. Then again, this +writer must know that I never said that wheat would not rise above four +shillings a bushel; but that, on the contrary, I always expressly said +that the price would be affected by the seasons, and that I thought that +the price would vibrate between three shillings a bushel and seven +shillings a bushel. Then again, Peel’s Bill has, in part, been repealed; +if it had not, there could have been no small note in circulation at +this day. So that this lawyer is “<i>All Lie</i>.” In obedience to the wishes +of a lady, I have been reading about the plans of Mr. Owen; and though I +do not as yet see my way clear as to how we can arrange matters with +regard to the young girls and the young fellows, I am quite clear that +his institution would be most excellent for the disposal of the lawyers. +One of his squares would be at a great distance from all other +habitations; in the midst of <i>Lord Erskine’s estate</i> for instance, +mentioned by me in a former ride; and nothing could be so fitting, his +Lordship long having been called <i>the father of the Bar</i>; in the midst +of this estate, with no town or village within miles of them, we might +have one of Mr. Owen’s squares, and set the bob-tailed brotherhood most +effectually at work. Pray can any one pretend to say that a spade or +shovel would not become the hands of this blunder-headed editor of +<i>Bell’s Messenger</i> better than a pen? However, these miserable +falsehoods can cause the delusion to exist but for a very short space of +time.</p> + +<p>The quantity of the harvest will be great. If the quality be bad, owing +to wet weather, the price will be still lower than it would have been in +case of dry weather. The price, therefore, must come down; and if the +newspapers were conducted by men who had any sense of honour or shame, +those men must be covered with confusion.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RIDE THROUGH THE NORTH-EAST PART OF SUSSEX, AND ALL ACROSS KENT, FROM THE WEALD OF SUSSEX, TO DOVER.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Worth (Sussex),<br />Friday, 29 August 1823.</i></p> + +<p>I have so often described the soil and other matters appertaining to the +country between the Wen and this place that my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> readers will rejoice at +being spared the repetition here. As to the harvest, however, I find +that they were deluged here on Tuesday last, though we got but little, +comparatively, at Kensington. Between Mitcham and Sutton they were +making wheat-ricks. The corn has not been injured here worth notice. Now +and then an ear in the butts <i>grown</i>; and grown wheat is a sad thing! +You may almost as well be without wheat altogether. However, very little +harm has been done here as yet.</p> + +<p>At Walton Heath I saw a man who had suffered most terribly from the +<i>game-laws</i>. He saw me going by, and came out to tell me his story; and +a horrible story it is, as the public will find, when it shall come +regularly and fully before them. Apropos of game-works: I asked who was +<i>the Judge</i> at the Somersetshire Assizes the other day. A correspondent +tells me that it was Judge Burrough. I am well aware that, as this +correspondent observes, “gamekeepers ought not to be <i>shot at</i>.” This is +not the point. It is not a <i>gamekeeper</i> in the usual sense of that word; +it is a man seizing another without a warrant. That is what it is; and +this, and Old Ellenborough’s Act, are <i>new things</i> in England, and +things of which the laws of England, “the birthright of Englishmen,” +knew nothing. Yet farmer Voke ought not to have shot at the gamekeeper, +or seizer, without warrant: he ought not to have shot at him; and he +would not had it not been for the law that put him in danger of being +transported on the evidence of this man. So that it is clearly the +terrible law that, in these cases, produces the violence. Yet, admire +with me, reader, the singular turn of the mind of Sir James Mackintosh, +whose whole soul appears to have been long bent on the “amelioration of +the Penal Code,” and who has never said one single word about this new +and most terrible part of it! Sir James, after years of incessant toil, +has, I believe, succeeded in getting a repeal of the laws for the +punishment of “witchcraft,” of the very existence of which laws the +nation was unacquainted. But the devil a word has he said about the +<i>game-laws</i>, which put into the gaols a full third part of the +prisoners, and to hold which prisoners the gaols have actually been +enlarged in all parts of the country! Singular turn of mind! Singular +“humanity!” Ah! Sir James knows very well what he is at. He understands +the state of his constituents at Knaresborough too well to meddle with +game-laws. He has a “friend,” I dare say, who knows more about game-laws +than he does. However, the poor <i>witches</i> are safe: thank Sir James for +that. Mr. Carlile’s sister and Mrs. Wright are in gaol, and may be there +for life! But the poor witches are safe. No hypocrite: no base pretender +to religion; no atrocious, savage, <i>black</i>-hearted wretch, who would +murder half mankind rather than not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> live on the labours of others; no +monster of this kind can now persecute the poor witches, thanks to Sir +James who has obtained security for them in all their rides through the +air, and in all their sailings upon the horseponds!</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Tonbridge Wells (Kent),<br />Saturday, 30 August.</i></p> + +<p>I came from Worth about seven this morning, passed through East +Grinstead, over Holthigh Common, through Ashurst, and thence to this +place. The morning was very fine, and I left them at Worth, making a +wheat-rick. There was no show for rain till about one o’clock, as I was +approaching Ashurst. The shattering that came at first I thought nothing +of; but the clouds soon grew up all round, and the rain set in for the +afternoon. The buildings at Ashurst (which is the first parish in Kent +on quitting Sussex) are a mill, an alehouse, a church, and about six or +seven other houses. I stopped at the alehouse to bait my horse; and, for +want of bacon, was compelled to put up with bread and cheese for myself. +I waited in vain for the rain to cease or to slacken, and the <i>want of +bacon</i> made me fear as to a <i>bed</i>. So, about five o’clock, I, without +great coat, got upon my horse, and came to this place, just as fast and +no faster than if it had been fine weather. A very fine soaking! If the +South Downs have left any little remnant of the hooping-cough, <i>this</i> +will take it away to be sure. I made not the least haste to get out of +the rain, I stopped, here and there, as usual, and asked questions about +the corn, the hops, and other things. But the moment I got in I got a +good fire, and set about the work of drying in good earnest. It costing +me nothing for drink, I can afford to have plenty of fire. I have not +been in the house an hour; and all my clothes are now as dry as if they +had never been wet. It is not getting wet that hurts you, if you keep +moving while you are wet. It is the suffering of yourself to be +<i>inactive</i> while the wet clothes are on your back.</p> + +<p>The country that I have come over to-day is a very pretty one. The soil +is a pale yellow loam, looking like brick earth, but rather sandy; but +the bottom is a softish stone. Now-and-then, where you go through hollow +ways (as at East Grinstead) the sides are solid rock. And, indeed, the +rocks sometimes (on the sides of hills) show themselves above ground, +and, mixed amongst the woods, make very interesting objects. On the road +from the Wen to Brighton, through Godstone and over Turner’s Hill, and +which road I crossed this morning in coming from Worth to East +Grinstead; on that road, which goes through Lindfield, and which is by +far the pleasantest coach-road from the Wen to Brighton; on the side of +this road, on which coaches now go from the Wen to Brighton, there is a +long chain of rocks, or, rather,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> rocky hills, with trees growing +amongst the rocks, or apparently out of them, as they do in the woods +near Ross in Herefordshire, and as they do in the Blue Mountains in +America, where you can see no earth at all; where all seems rock, and +yet where the trees grow most beautifully. At the place of which I am +now speaking, that is to say, by the side of this pleasant road to +Brighton, and between Turner’s Hill and Lindfield, there is a rock, +which they call “<i>Big-upon-Little</i>;” that is to say, a rock upon +another, having nothing else to rest upon, and the top one being longer +and wider than the top of the one it lies on. This big rock is no +trifling concern, being as big, perhaps, as a not very small house. How, +then, <i>came</i> this big upon little? What lifted up the big? It balances +itself naturally enough; but what tossed it up? I do not like to <i>pay</i> a +parson for teaching me, while I have “<i>God’s own word</i>” to teach me; +but, if any parson will tell me <i>how</i> big <i>came</i> upon little, I do not +know that I shall grudge him a trifle. And if he cannot tell me this: if +he say, All that we have to do is to <i>admire</i> and <i>adore</i>; then I tell +him that I can admire and adore without his <i>aid</i>, and that I will keep +my money in my pocket.</p> + +<p>To return to the soil of this country, it is such a loam as I have +described with this stone beneath; sometimes the top soil is lighter and +sometimes heavier; sometimes the stone is harder and sometimes softer; +but this is the general character of it all the way from Worth to +Tonbridge Wells. This land is what may be called the <i>middle kind</i>. The +wheat crop about 20 to 24 bushels to an acre, on an average of years. +The grass fields not bad, and all the fields will grow grass; I mean +make upland meadows. The woods good, though not of the finest. The land +seems to be about thus divided: 3-tenths <i>woods</i>, 2-tenths <i>grass</i>, a +tenth of a tenth <i>hops</i>, and the rest <i>corn-land</i>. These make very +pretty surface, especially as it is a rarity to see a <i>pollard tree</i>, +and as nobody is so beastly as to <i>trim trees up</i> like the elms near the +Wen. The country has no <i>flat</i> spot in it; yet the hills are not high. +My road was a gentle rise or a gentle descent all the way. Continual new +views strike the eye; but there is little variety in them: all is +pretty, but nothing strikingly beautiful. The labouring people look +pretty well. They have pigs. They invariably do best in the <i>woodland</i> +and <i>forest</i> and <i>wild</i> countries. Where the mighty grasper has <i>all +under his eye</i>, they can get but little. These are cross-roads, mere +parish roads; but they are very good. While I was at the alehouse at +Ashurst, I heard some labouring men talking about the roads; and they +having observed that the parish roads had become so wonderfully better +within the last seven or eight years, I put in my word, and said: “It is +odd enough, too, that the parish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> roads should become <i>better and +better</i> as the farmers become <i>poorer and poorer</i>!” They looked at one +another, and put on a sort of <i>expecting</i> look; for my observation +seemed to <i>ask for information</i>. At last one of them said, “Why, it is +because the farmers <i>have not the money to employ men</i>, and so they are +put on the roads.” “Yes,” said I, “but they must pay them there.” They +said no more, and only <i>looked hard at one another</i>. They had, probably, +never thought about this before. They seemed puzzled by it, and well +they might, for it has bothered the wigs of boroughmongers, parsons and +lawyers, and will bother them yet. Yes, this country now contains a body +of occupiers of the land, who suffer the land to go to decay for want of +means to pay a sufficiency of labourers; and, at the same time, are +compelled to pay those labourers for doing that which is of no use to +the occupiers! There, Collective Wisdom! Go: brag of that! Call that +“the envy of surrounding nations and the admiration of the world.”</p> + +<p>This is a great <i>nut</i> year. I saw them hanging very thick on the +way-side during a great part of this day’s ride; and they put me in mind +of the old saying, “That a great <i>nut</i> year is a great year for that +class whom the lawyers, in their Latin phrase, call the ‘sons and +daughters of nobody.’” I once asked a farmer, who had often been +overseer of the poor, whether he really thought that there was any +ground for this old saying, or whether he thought it was mere banter? He +said that he was sure that there were good grounds for it; and he even +cited instances in proof, and mentioned one particular year, when there +were four times as many of this class as ever had been born in a year in +the parish before; an effect which he ascribed solely to the crop of +nuts of the year before. Now, if this be the case, ought not Parson +Malthus, Lawyer Scarlett, and the rest of that tribe, to turn their +attention to the nut-trees? The <i>Vice Society</i>, too, with that holy man +Wilberforce at its head, ought to look out sharp after these mischievous +nut-trees. A law to cause them all to be grubbed up, and thrown into the +fire, would, certainly, be far less unreasonable than many things which +we have seen and heard of.</p> + +<p>The corn, from Worth to this place, is pretty good. The farmers say it +is a small crop; other people, and especially the labourers, say that it +is a good crop. I think it is not large and not small; about an average +crop; perhaps rather less, for the land is rather light, and this is not +a year for light lands. But there is no blight, no mildew, in spite of +all the prayers of the “loyal.” The wheat about a third cut, and none +carried. No other corn begun upon. Hops very bad till I came within a +few miles of this place, when I saw some which I should suppose would +bear about six hundredweight to the acre. The orchards no great things +along here. Some apples<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> here and there; but small and stunted. I do not +know that I have seen to-day any one <i>tree</i> well loaded with fine +apples.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Tenterden (Kent),<br />Sunday, 31 August.</i></p> + +<p>Here I am after a most delightful ride of twenty-four miles, through +Frant, Lamberhurst, Goudhurst, Milkhouse Street, Benenden, and +Rolvenden. By making a great stir in rousing waiters and “boots” and +maids, and by leaving behind me the name of “a d—d noisy, troublesome +fellow,” I got clear of “<i>the Wells</i>,” and out of the contagion of its +Wen-engendered inhabitants, time enough to meet the first rays of the +sun, on the hill that you come up in order to get to Frant, which is a +most beautiful little village at about two miles from “<i>the Wells</i>.” +Here the land belongs, I suppose, to Lord Abergavenny, who has a mansion +and park here. A very pretty place, and kept, seemingly, in very nice +order. I saw here what I never saw before: the bloom of the <i>common +heath</i> we wholly overlook; but it is a very pretty thing; and here, when +the plantations were made, and as they grew up, heath was <i>left to grow</i> +on the sides of the roads in the plantations. The heath is not so much +of a dwarf as we suppose. This is four feet high; and, being in full +bloom, it makes the prettiest border that can be imagined. This place of +Lord Abergavenny is, altogether, a very pretty place; and, so far from +grudging him the possession of it, I should feel pleasure at seeing it +in his possession, and should pray God to preserve it to him, and from +the unholy and ruthless touch of the Jews and jobbers; but I cannot +forget this Lord’s <i>sinecure</i>! I cannot forget that he has, for doing +nothing, received of the public money more than sufficient to buy such +an estate as this. I cannot forget that this estate may, perhaps, have +actually been bought with that money. Not being able to forget this, and +with my mind filled with reflections of this sort, I got up to the +church at Frant, and just by I saw a <i>School-house</i> with this motto on +it: “<i>Train up a child as he should walk</i>,” &c. That is to say, try to +breed up the Boys and Girls of this village in such a way that they may +never know anything about Lord Abergavenny’s sinecure; or, knowing about +it, that they may think it <i>right</i> that he should roll in wealth coming +to him in such a way. The projectors deceive nobody but themselves! They +are working for the destruction of their own system. In looking back +over “<i>the Wells</i>” I cannot but admire the operation of the gambling +system. This little <i>toad-stool</i> is a thing created entirely by the +gamble; and the means have, hitherto, come out of the wages of labour. +These means are <i>now</i> coming out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> farmer’s capital and out of the +landlord’s estate; the labourers are stripped; they can give no more: +the saddle is now fixing itself upon the right back.</p> + +<p>In quitting Frant I descended into a country more woody than that behind +me. I asked a man whose fine woods those were that I pointed to, and I +fairly gave <i>a start</i> when he said the Marquis Camden’s. Milton talks of +the <i>Leviathan</i> in a way to make one draw in one’s shoulders with fear; +and I appeal to any one, who has been at sea when a whale has come near +the ship, whether he has not, at the first sight of the monster, made a +sort of involuntary movement, as if to <i>get out of the way</i>. Such was +the movement that I now made. However, soon coming to myself, on I +walked my horse by the side of my pedestrian informant. It is Bayham +Abbey that this great and awful sinecure placeman owns in this part of +the county. Another great estate he owns near Sevenoaks. But here alone +he spreads his length and breadth over more, they say, than ten or +twelve thousand acres of land, great part of which consists of +oak-woods. But, indeed, what estates might he not purchase? Not much +less than thirty years he held a place, a sinecure place, that yielded +him about thirty thousand pounds a-year! At any rate, he, according to +Parliamentary accounts, has received, of public money, little short of a +million of guineas. These, at 30 guineas an acre, would buy thirty +thousand acres of land. And what did he have all this money <i>for</i>? +Answer me that question, Wilberforce, you who called him a “bright +star,” when he gave up <i>a part</i> of his enormous sinecure. He gave up all +but the <i>trifling</i> sum of nearly three thousand pounds a-year! What a +bright star! And <i>when</i> did he give it up? When the <i>Radical</i> had made +the country ring with it. When his name was, by their means, getting +into every mouth in the kingdom; when every Radical speech and petition +contained the name of Camden. Then it was, and not till then, that this +“bright star” let fall part of its “brilliancy.” So that Wilberforce +ought to have thanked the <i>Radicals</i>, and not Camden. When he let go his +grasp, he talked of the merits of his father. His father was a lawyer, +who was exceedingly well paid for what he did without a million of money +being given to his son. But there is something rather out of +common-place to be observed about this father. This father was the +contemporary of Yorke, who became Lord Hardwicke. Pratt and Yorke, and +the merit of Pratt was that he was constantly opposed to the principles +of Yorke. Yorke was called a <i>Tory</i> and Pratt a <i>Whig</i>; but the devil of +it was, both got to be Lords; and, in one shape or another, the families +of both have, from that day to this, been receiving great parcels of the +public money! Beautiful system!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> The Tories were for <i>rewarding Yorke</i>; +the Whigs were for <i>rewarding Pratt</i>. The Ministers (all in good time!) +humoured both parties; and the stupid people, divided into <i>tools of two +factions</i>, actually applauded, now one part of them, and now the other +part of them, the squandering away of their substance. They were like +the man and his wife in the fable, who, to spite one another, gave away +to the cunning mumper the whole of their dinner bit by bit. <i>This +species</i> of folly is over at any rate. The people are no longer fools +enough to be <i>partisans</i>. They make no distinctions. The nonsense about +“court party” and “country party” is at an end. Who thinks anything more +of the name of <i>Erskine</i> than of that of <i>Scott</i>? As the people told the +two factions at Maidstone when they, with Camden at their head, met to +congratulate the Regent on the marriage of his daughter, “they are all +tarred with the same brush;” and tarred with the same brush they must +be, until there be a real reform of the Parliament. However, the people +are no longer deceived. They are not duped. They <i>know</i> that the thing +is that which it is. The people of the present day would laugh at +disputes (carried on with so much gravity!) about the <i>principles</i> of +Pratt and the <i>principles</i> of Yorke. “You are all tarred with the same +brush,” said the sensible people of Maidstone; and, in those words, they +expressed the opinion of the whole country, borough-mongers and +tax-eaters excepted.</p> + +<p>The country from Frant to Lamberhurst is very woody. I should think +five-tenths woods and three grass. The corn, what there is of it, is +about the same as farther back. I saw a hop-garden just before I got to +Lamberhurst, which will have about two or three hundredweight to the +acre. This Lamberhurst is a very pretty place. It lies in a valley with +beautiful hills round it. The pastures about here are very fine; and the +roads are as smooth and as handsome as those in Windsor Park.</p> + +<p>From the last-mentioned place I had three miles to come to Goudhurst, +the tower of the church of which is pretty lofty of itself, and the +church stands upon the very summit of one of the steepest and highest +hills in this part of the country. The church-yard has a view of about +twenty-five miles in diameter; and the whole is over a very fine +country, though the character of the country differs little from that +which I have before described.</p> + +<p>Before I got to Goudhurst, I passed by the side of a village called +Horsenden, and saw some very large hop-grounds away to my right. I +should suppose there were fifty acres; and they appeared to me to look +pretty well. I found that they belonged to a Mr. Springate, and people +say that it will grow half as many hops as he grew last year, while +people in general will not grow a tenth part so many. This hop growing +and dealing have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> always been a <i>gamble</i>; and this puts me in mind of +the horrible treatment which Mr. Waddington received on account of what +was called his <i>forestalling</i> in hops! It is useless to talk: as long as +that gentleman remains uncompensated for his sufferings there can be no +hope of better days. Ellenborough was his counsel; he afterwards became +Judge; but nothing was ever done to undo what Kenyon had done. However, +Mr. Waddington will, I trust, yet live to obtain justice. He has, in the +meanwhile, given the thing now-and-then a blow; and he has the +satisfaction to see it reel about like a drunken man.</p> + +<p>I got to Goudhurst to breakfast, and as I heard that the Dean of +Rochester was to preach a sermon in behalf of the <i>National Schools</i>, I +stopped to hear him. In waiting for his Reverence I went to the +Methodist Meeting-house, where I found the Sunday School boys and girls +assembled, to the almost filling of the place, which was about thirty +feet long and eighteen wide. The “Minister” was not come, and the +Schoolmaster was reading to the children out of a <i>tract-book</i>, and +shaking the brimstone bag at them most furiously. This schoolmaster was +a <i>sleek</i>-looking young fellow: his skin perfectly tight: well fed, I’ll +warrant him: and he has discovered the way of living, without work, on +the labour of those that do work. There were 36 little fellows in +smock-frocks, and about as many girls listening to him; and I dare say +he eats as much meat as any ten of them. By this time the <i>Dean</i>, I +thought, would be coming on; and, therefore, to the church I went; but +to my great disappointment I found that the parson was operating +<i>preparatory</i> to the appearance of the Dean, who was to come on in the +afternoon, when I, agreeably to my plan, must be off. The sermon was +from 2 Chronicles, ch. 31. v. 21., and the words of this text described +King Hezekiah as a most <i>zealous man</i>, doing whatever he did <i>with all +his heart</i>. I write from <i>memory</i>, mind, and, therefore, I do not +pretend to quote exact words; and I may be a little in error, perhaps, +as to chapter or verse. The object of the preacher was to hold up to his +hearers the example of Hezekiah, and particularly in the case of the +school affair. He called upon them to subscribe with all their hearts; +but, alas! how little of <i>persuasive power</i> was there in what he said! +No effort to make them see <i>the use of the schools</i>. No inducement +<i>proved</i> to exist. No argument, in short, nor anything to move. No +appeal either to the <i>reason</i>, or to the <i>feeling</i>. All was general, +common-place, cold observation; and that, too, in language which the far +greater part of the hearers could not understand. This church is about +110 feet long and 70 feet wide in the clear. It would hold <i>three +thousand people</i>, and it had in it 214, besides 53 Sunday School or +National School boys; and these sat together,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> in a sort of lodge, up in +a corner, 16 feet long and 10 feet wide. Now, will any Parson Malthus, +or anybody else, have the impudence to tell me that this church was +built for the use of a population not more numerous than the present? To +be sure, when this church was built, there could be no idea of a +Methodist meeting coming to <i>assist</i> the church, and as little, I dare +say, was it expected that the preachers in the church would ever call +upon the faithful to subscribe money to be sent up to one Joshua Watson +(living in a Wen) to be by him laid out in “promoting Christian +knowledge;” but, at any rate, the Methodists cannot take away above four +or five hundred; and what, then, was this great church built <i>for</i>, if +there were no more people, in those days, at Goudhurst, than there are +now? It is very true that the <i>labouring</i> people have, in a great +measure, ceased to go to church. There were scarcely any of that class +at this great country church to-day. I do not believe there were <i>ten</i>. +I can remember when they were so numerous that the parson could not +attempt to begin till the rattling of their nailed shoes ceased. I have +seen, I am sure, five hundred boys and men in smock-frocks coming out of +church at one time. To-day has been a fine day: there would have been +many at church to-day, if ever there are; and here I have another to add +to the many things that convince me that the labouring classes have, in +great part, ceased to go to church; that their way of thinking and +feeling with regard to both church and clergy are totally changed; and +that there is now very little <i>moral hold</i> which the latter possess. +This preaching for money to support the schools is a most curious affair +altogether. The King sends a <i>circular letter</i> to the bishops (as I +understand it) to cause subscriptions for the schools; and the bishops +(if I am rightly told) tell the parish clergy to send the money, when +collected, to Joshua Watson, the Treasurer of a Society in the Wen, “for +promoting Christian Knowledge!” What! the church and all its clergy put +into motion to get money from the people to send up to one Joshua +Watson, a wine-merchant, or, late a wine-merchant, in Mincing Lane, +Fenchurch Street, London, in order that the said wine-merchant may apply +the money to the “promoting of Christian Knowledge!” What! all the +deacons, priests, curates perpetual, vicars, rectors, prebends, doctors, +deans, archdeacons and fathers in God, right reverend and most reverend; +all! yea all, engaged in getting money together to send to a +wine-merchant that he may lay it out in the promoting of Christian +knowledge <i>in their own flocks</i>! Oh, brave wine-merchant! What a prince +of godliness must this wine-merchant be! I say wine-merchant, or late +wine-merchant, of Mincing Lane, Fenchurch Street, London. And, for God’s +sake, some good parson, do send me up a copy of the King’s circular, +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> also of the bishop’s order to send the money to Joshua Watson; for +some precious sport we will have with Joshua and his “Society” before we +have done with them!</p> + +<p>After “service” I mounted my horse and jogged on through Milkhouse +Street to Benenden, where I passed through the estate, and in sight of +the house of Mr. Hodges. He keeps it very neat and has planted a good +deal. His <i>ash</i> do very well; but the <i>chestnut</i> do not, as it seems to +me. He ought to have the American chestnut, if he have any. If I could +discover <i>an everlasting hop-pole</i>, and one, too, that would grow faster +even than the ash, would not these Kentish hop-planters put me in the +Kalendar along with their famous Saint Thomas of Canterbury? We shall +see this one of these days.</p> + +<p>Coming through the village of Benenden, I heard a man at my right +talking very loud about <i>houses! houses! houses!</i> It was a Methodist +parson, in a house close by the roadside. I pulled up, and stood still, +in the middle of the road, but looking, in silent soberness, into the +window (which was open) of the room in which the preacher was at work. I +believe my stopping rather disconcerted him; for he got into shocking +<i>repetition</i>. “Do you <i>know</i>,” said he, laying great stress on the word +<i>know</i>: “do you <i>know</i>, that you have ready for you houses, houses I +say; I say do you know; do you know that you have houses in the heavens +not made with hands? Do you know this from <i>experience</i>? Has the blessed +Jesus <i>told you so</i>?” And on he went to say that, if Jesus had told them +so, they would be saved, and that if He had not, and did not, they would +be damned. Some girls whom I saw in the room, plump and rosy as could +be, did not seem at all daunted by these menaces; and, indeed, they +appeared to me to be thinking much more about getting houses for +themselves <i>in this world first</i>; just to <i>see a little</i> before they +entered, or endeavoured to enter, or even thought much about, those +“<i>houses</i>” of which the parson was speaking: <i>houses</i> with pig-styes and +little snug gardens attached to them, together with all the other +domestic and conjugal circumstances, these girls seemed to me to be +preparing themselves for. The truth is, these fellows have no power on +the minds of any but the miserable.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had I proceeded a hundred yards from the place where this +fellow was bawling, when I came to the very situation which he ought to +have occupied, I mean the <i>stocks</i>, which the people of Benenden have, +with singular humanity, fitted up with a <i>bench</i>, so that the patient, +while he is receiving the benefit of the remedy, is not exposed to the +danger of catching cold by sitting, as in other places, upon the ground, +always damp, and sometimes actually wet. But I would ask the people of +Benenden what is the <i>use</i> of this humane precaution, and, indeed, what +is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> the use of the stocks themselves, if, while a fellow is ranting and +bawling in the manner just described, at the distance of a hundred yards +from the stocks, the stocks (as is here actually the case) are almost +hidden by grass and nettles? This, however, is the case all over the +country; not nettles and grass indeed smothering the stocks, but I never +see any feet peeping through the holes anywhere, though I find Methodist +parsons everywhere, and though <i>the law compels the parishes to keep up</i> +all the pairs of stocks that exist in all parts of them; and, in some +parishes, they have to keep up several pairs. I am aware that a good +part of the use of the stocks is the <i>terror</i> they ought to produce. I +am not supposing that they are of no use because not continually +furnished with legs. But there is a wide difference between <i>always</i> and +<i>never</i>; and it is clear that a fellow who has had the stocks under his +eye all his lifetime, and has <i>never</i> seen a pair of feet peeping +through them, will stand no more in awe of the stocks than rooks do of +an old shoyhoy, or than the Ministers or their agents do of Hobhouse and +Burdett. Stocks that never pinch a pair of ankles are like Ministerial +responsibility; a thing to talk about, but for no other use; a mere +mockery; a thing laughed at by those whom it is intended to keep in +check. It is time that the stocks were again <i>in use</i>, or that the +expense of keeping them up were put an end to.</p> + +<p>This mild, this gentle, this good-humoured sort of correction is <i>not +enough</i> for our present rulers. But mark the consequence; gaols ten +times as big as formerly; houses of correction; tread-mills; the hulks; +and the country filled with <i>spies</i> of one sort and another, +<i>game-spies</i>, or other spies, and if a hare or pheasant come to an +untimely death, <i>police-officers</i> from the Wen are not unfrequently +called down to find out and secure the bloody offender! <i>Mark this</i>, +Englishmen! Mark how we take to those things which we formerly ridiculed +in the French; and take them up too just as that brave and spirited +people have shaken them off! I saw, not long ago, an account of a Wen +police-officer being sent into the country, where he assumed <i>a +disguise</i>, joined some poachers (as they are called), got into their +secrets, went out in the night with them, and then (having laid his +plans with the game-people) assisted to take them and convict them. +What! is this <i>England</i>! Is this the land of “manly hearts?” Is this the +country that laughed at the French for their submissions? What! are +police-officers kept for this? Does the law say so? However, thank God +Almighty, the estates are passing away into the hands of those who have +had borrowed from them the money to uphold this monster of a system. The +Debt! The blessed Debt, will, at last, restore to us freedom.</p> + +<p>Just after I quitted Benenden, I saw some bunches of <i>straw</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> lying upon +the quickset hedge of a cottage garden. I found upon inquiry, that they +were bunches of the straw of grass. Seeing a face through the window of +the cottage, I called out and asked what that straw was for. The person +within said, it was to make <i>Leghorn-plat</i> with. I asked him (it was a +young man) how he knew how to do it. He said he had got a little book +that had been made by Mr. Cobbett. I told him that I was the man, and +should like to see some of his work; and asked him to bring it out to +me, I being afraid to tie my horse. He told me that he was a <i>cripple</i>, +and that he could not come out. At last I went in, leaving my horse to +be held by a little girl. I found a young man, who has been a cripple +for fourteen years. Some ladies in the neighbourhood had got him the +book, and his family had got him the grass. He had made some very nice +plat, and he had knitted the greater part of the crown of a bonnet, and +had done the whole very nicely, though, as to the knitting, he had +proceeded in a way to make it very tedious. He was knitting upon a +block. However, these little matters will soon be set to rights. There +will soon be persons to teach knitting in all parts of the country. I +left this unfortunate young man with the pleasing reflection that I had, +in all likelihood, been the cause of his gaining a good living, by his +labour, during the rest of his life. How long will it be before my +calumniators, the false and infamous London press, will, take the whole +of it together, and leave out its evil, do as much good as my pen has +done in this one instance! How long will it be ere the ruffians, the +base hirelings, the infamous traders who own and who conduct that press; +how long ere one of them, or all of them together, shall cause a cottage +to smile; shall add one ounce to the meal of the labouring man!</p> + +<p>Rolvenden was my next village, and thence I could see the lofty church +of Tenterden on the top of a hill at three miles distance. This +Rolvenden is a very beautiful village; and, indeed, such are all the +places along here. These villages are not like those in the <i>iron</i> +counties, as I call them; that is, the counties of flint and chalk. Here +the houses have gardens in front of them as well as behind; and there is +a good deal of show and finery about them and their gardens. The high +roads are without a stone in them; and everything looks like +<i>gentility</i>. At this place I saw several <i>arbutuses</i> in one garden, and +much finer than we see them in general; though, mind, this is no proof +of a mild climate; for the arbutus is a native of one much colder than +that of England, and indeed than that of Scotland.</p> + +<p>Coming from Benenden to Rolvenden I saw some Swedish turnips, and, +strange as the reader will think it, the first I saw after leaving +Worth! The reason I take to be this: the farms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> are all furnished with +grass-fields as in Devonshire about Honiton. These grass-fields give hay +for the sheep and cattle in winter, or, at any rate, they do all that is +not done by the white turnips. It may be a question whether it would be +more <i>profitable</i> to break up and sow Swedes; but this is the reason of +their not being cultivated along here. White turnips are more easily got +than Swedes; they may be sown later; and, with good hay, they will fat +cattle and sheep; but the Swedes will do this business without hay. In +Norfolk and Suffolk the land is not generally of a nature to make +hay-fields. Therefore the people there resort to Swedes. This has been a +sad time for these hay-farmers, however, all along here. They have but +just finished haymaking; and I see, all along my way, from East +Grinstead to this place, hay-ricks the colour of dirt and <i>smoking</i> like +dung-heaps.</p> + +<p>Just before I got to this place (Tenterden), I crossed a bit of marsh +land, which I found, upon inquiry, is a sort of little branch or spray +running out of that immense and famous tract of country called <i>Romney +Marsh</i>, which, I find, I have to cross to-morrow, in order to get to +Dover, along by the sea-side, through Hythe and Folkestone.</p> + +<p>This Tenterden is a market town, and a singularly bright spot. It +consists of one street, which is, in some places, more, perhaps, than +two hundred feet wide. On one side of the street the houses have gardens +before them, from 20 to 70 feet deep. The town is upon a hill; the +afternoon was very fine, and, just as I rose the hill and entered the +street, the people had come out of church and were moving along towards +their houses. It was a very fine sight. <i>Shabbily-dressed people do not +go to church.</i> I saw, in short, drawn out before me, the dress and +beauty of the town; and a great many very, very pretty girls I saw; and +saw them, too, in their best attire. I remember the girls in the <i>Pays +de Caux</i>, and, really, I think those of Tenterden resemble them. I do +not know why they should not; for there is the <i>Pays de Caux</i> only just +over the water, just opposite this very place.</p> + +<p>The hops about here are not so very bad. They say that one man, near +this town, will have eight tons of hops upon ten acres of land! This is +a great crop any year: a very great crop. This man may, perhaps, sell +his hops for 1,600 pounds! What a <i>gambling</i> concern it is! However, +such hop-growing always was and always must be. It is a thing of perfect +hazard.</p> + +<p>The church at this place is a very large and fine old building. The +tower stands upon a base thirty feet square. Like the church at +Goudhurst, it will hold three thousand people. And let it be observed +that, when these churches were built, people had not yet thought of +cramming them with <i>pews</i>, as a stable is filled with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> stalls. Those who +built these churches had no idea that worshipping God meant going to +<i>sit</i> to hear a man talk out what he called preaching. By <i>worship</i> they +meant very different things; and, above all things, when they had made a +fine and noble building, they did not dream of disfiguring the inside of +it by filling its floor with large and deep boxes made of deal boards. +In short, the floor was the place for the worshippers to stand or to +kneel; and there was <i>no distinction</i>; no <i>high</i> place and no <i>low</i> +place; all were upon a level <i>before God</i> at any rate. Some were not +stuck into pews lined with green or red cloth, while others were crammed +into corners to stand erect or sit on the floor. These odious +distinctions are of Protestant origin and growth. This lazy lolling in +pews we owe to what is called the <i>Reformation</i>. A place filled with +benches and boxes looks like an eating or a drinking place; but +certainly not like a place of worship. A Frenchman, who had been driven +from St. Domingo to Philadelphia by the Wilberforces of France, went to +church along with me one Sunday. He had never been in a Protestant place +of <i>worship</i> before. Upon looking round him, and seeing everybody +comfortably seated, while a couple of good stoves were keeping the place +as warm as a slack oven, he exclaimed: “<i>Pardi! On sert Dieu bien à son +aise ici?</i>” That is: “Egad! they serve God very much at their ease +here!” I always think of this, when I see a church full of pews; as, +indeed, is now always the case with our churches. Those who built these +churches had no idea of this: they made their calculations as to the +people to be contained in them, not making any allowance for <i>deal +boards</i>. I often wonder how it is that the present parsons are not +ashamed to call the churches <i>theirs</i>! They must know the origin of +them; and how they can look at them, and at the same time revile the +Catholics, is astonishing to me.</p> + +<p>This evening I have been to the Methodist Meeting-house. I was +attracted, fairly drawn all down the street, by the <i>singing</i>. When I +came to the place the parson was got into prayer. His hands were +clenched together and held up, his face turned up and back so as to be +nearly parallel with the ceiling, and he was bawling away, with his “do +thou,” and “mayest thou,” and “may we,” enough to stun one. Noisy, +however, as he was, he was unable to fix the attention of a parcel of +girls in the gallery, whose eyes were all over the place, while his eyes +were so devoutly shut up. After a deal of this rigmarole called prayer, +came the <i>preachy</i>, as the negroes call it; and a <i>preachy</i> it really +was. Such a mixture of whining cant and of foppish affectation I +scarcely ever heard in my life. The text was (I speak from memory) one +of Saint Peter’s epistles (if he have more than one) the 4th Chapter and +18th Verse. The words were to this amount:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> that, <i>as the righteous +would be saved with difficulty, what must become of the ungodly and the +sinner</i>! After as neat a dish of nonsense and of impertinences as one +could wish to have served up, came the distinction between the <i>ungodly</i> +and the <i>sinner</i>. The sinner was one who did moral wrong; the ungodly, +one who did no moral wrong, but who was not regenerated. <i>Both</i>, he +positively told us, were to be damned. One was just as bad as the other. +Moral rectitude was to do nothing in saving the man. He was to be damned +unless born again, and how was he to be born again unless he came to the +regeneration-shop and gave the fellows money? He distinctly told us that +a man perfectly moral might be damned; and that “the vilest of the vile +and the basest of the base” (I quote his very words) “would be saved if +they became regenerate; and that colliers, whose souls had been as black +as their coals, had by regeneration become bright as the saints that +sing before God and the Lamb.” And will the <i>Edinburgh Reviewers</i> again +find fault with me for cutting at this bawling, canting crew? Monstrous +it is to think that the Clergy of the Church really encourage these +roving fanatics. The Church seems aware of its loss of credit and of +power. It seems willing to lean even upon these men; who, be it +observed, seem, on their part, to have taken the Church under their +protection. They always pray for the <i>Ministry</i>; I mean the ministry at +<i>Whitehall</i>. They are most “loyal” souls. The <span class="smcaplc">THING</span> <i>protects them</i>; and +they lend their aid <i>in upholding the</i> <span class="smcaplc">THING</span>. What silly; nay, what base +creatures those must be who really give their money, give their pennies, +which ought to buy bread for their own children; who thus give their +money to these lazy and impudent fellows, who call themselves ministers +of God, who prowl about the country living easy and jovial lives upon +the fruit of the labour of other people. However, it is, in some +measure, these people’s fault. If they did not give, the others could +not receive. I wish to see every labouring man well fed and well clad; +but, really, the man who gives any portion of his earnings to these +fellows deserves to want: he deserves to be pinched with hunger: misery +is the just reward of this worst species of prodigality.</p> + +<p>The <i>singing</i> makes a great part of what passes in these meeting-houses. +A number of women and girls singing together make very sweet sounds. Few +men there are who have not felt <i>the power</i> of sounds of this sort. Men +are sometimes pretty nearly bewitched without knowing how. <i>Eyes</i> do a +good deal, but <i>tongues</i> do more. We may talk of sparkling eyes and +snowy bosoms as long as we please; but what are these with a croaking, +masculine voice? The parson seemed to be fully aware of the importance +of this part of the “service.” The subject of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> hymn was something +about <i>love</i>: Christian love; love of Jesus; but still it was about +<i>love</i>; and the parson read, or gave out, the verses in a singularly +<i>soft</i> and <i>sighing</i> voice, with his head on one side, and giving it +rather a swing. I am satisfied that the singing forms great part of the +<i>attraction</i>. Young girls like to sing; and young men like to hear them. +Nay, old ones too; and, as I have just said, it was the singing that +<i>drew</i> me three hundred yards down the street at Tenterden, to enter +this meeting-house. By-the-by, I wrote some Hymns myself, and published +them in “<i>Twopenny Trash</i>.” I will give any Methodist parson leave to +put them into his hymn-book.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Folkestone (Kent),<br />Monday (Noon), 1 Sept.</i></p> + +<p>I have had a fine ride, and, I suppose, the Quakers have had a fine time +of it at Mark Lane.</p> + +<p>From Tenterden I set off at five o’clock, and got to Appledore after a +most delightful ride, the high land upon my right, and the low land on +my left. The fog was so thick and white along some of the low land, that +I should have taken it for water, if little hills and trees had not +risen up through it here and there. Indeed, the view was very much like +those which are presented in the deep valleys, near the great rivers in +New Brunswick (North America) at the time when the snows melt in the +spring, and when, in sailing over those valleys, you look down from the +side of your canoe and see the lofty woods beneath you! I once went in a +log-canoe across a <i>sylvan sea</i> of this description, the canoe being +paddled by two Yankees. We started in a stream; the stream became a wide +water, and that water got deeper and deeper, as I could see by the trees +(all was woods), till we got to sail amongst the <i>top branches of the +trees</i>. By-and-by we got into a large open space; a piece of water a +mile or two, or three or four wide, with <i>the woods under us</i>! A fog, +with the tops of trees rising through it, is very much like this; and +such was the fog that I saw this morning in my ride to Appledore. The +church at Appledore is very large. Big enough to hold 3,000 people; and +the place does not seem to contain half a thousand old enough to go to +church.</p> + +<p>In coming along I saw a wheat-rick making, though I hardly think the +wheat can be dry under the bands. The corn is all good here; and I am +told they give twelve shillings an acre for reaping wheat.</p> + +<p>In quitting this Appledore I crossed a canal and entered on Romney +Marsh. This was grass-land on both sides of me to a great distance. The +flocks and herds immense. The sheep are of a breed that takes its name +from the marsh. They are called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Romney Marsh sheep. Very pretty and +large. The wethers, when fat, weigh about twelve stone; or, one hundred +pounds. The faces of these sheep are white; and, indeed, the whole sheep +is as white as a piece of writing-paper. The wool does not look dirty +and oily like that of other sheep. The cattle appear to be all of the +<i>Sussex</i> breed. Red, loosed-limbed, and, they say, a great deal better +than the Devonshire. How curious is the <i>natural economy</i> of a country! +The <i>forests</i> of Sussex; those miserable tracts of heath and fern and +bushes and sand, called Ashdown Forest and Saint Leonard’s Forest, to +which latter Lord Erskine’s estate belongs; these wretched tracts and +the not much less wretched farms in their neighbourhood, <i>breed the +cattle</i>, which we see <i>fatting</i> in Romney Marsh! They are calved in the +spring; they are weaned in a little bit of grass-land; they are then put +into stubbles and about in the fallows for the first summer; they are +brought into the yard to winter on rough hay, peas-haulm, or +barley-straw; the next two summers they spend in the rough woods or in +the forest; the two winters they live on straw; they then pass another +summer on the forest or at <i>work</i>; and then they come here or go +elsewhere to be fatted. With cattle of this kind and with sheep such as +I have spoken of before, this Marsh abounds in every part of it; and the +sight is most beautiful.</p> + +<p>At three miles from Appledore I came through Snargate, a village with +five houses, and with a church capable of containing two thousand +people! The vagabonds tell us, however, that we have a wonderful +increase of population! These vagabonds will be hanged by-and-by, or +else justice will have fled from the face of the earth.</p> + +<p>At Brenzett (a mile further on) I with great difficulty got a rasher of +bacon for breakfast. The few houses that there are are miserable in the +extreme. The church here (only a <i>mile</i> from the last) nearly as large; +and nobody to go to it. What! will the <i>vagabonds</i> attempt to make us +believe that these churches were <i>built for nothing</i>! “<i>Dark ages</i>” +indeed those must have been, if these churches were erected without +there being any more people than there are now. But <i>who</i> built them? +Where did the <i>means</i>, where did the hands come from? This place +presents another proof of the truth of my old observation: <i>rich land</i> +and <i>poor labourers</i>. From the window of the house, in which I could +scarcely get a rasher of bacon, and not an egg, I saw numberless flocks +and herds fatting, and the fields loaded with corn!</p> + +<p>The next village, which was two miles further on, was Old Romney, and +along here I had, for great part of the way, corn-fields on one side of +me and grass-land on the other. I asked what the amount of the crop of +wheat would be. They told me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> better than five quarters to the acre. I +thought so myself. I have a sample of the red wheat and another of the +white. They are both very fine. They reap the wheat here nearly two feet +from the ground; and even then they cut it three feet long! I never saw +corn like this before. It very far exceeds the corn under Portsdown +Hill, that at Gosport and Tichfield. They have here about eight hundred +large, very large, sheaves to an acre. I wonder how long it will be +after the end of the world before Mr. Birbeck will see the American +“Prairies” half so good as this Marsh. In a garden here I saw some very +fine onions, and a prodigious crop; sure sign of most excellent land. At +this Old Romney there is a church (two miles only from the last, mind!) +fit to contain one thousand five hundred people, and there are, for the +people of the parish to live in, twenty-two, or twenty-three, houses! +And yet the <i>vagabonds</i> have the impudence to tell us that the +population of England has vastly increased! Curious system that +depopulates Romney Marsh and peoples Bagshot Heath! It is an unnatural +system. It is the <i>vagabond’s</i> system. It is a system that must be +destroyed, or that will destroy the country.</p> + +<p>The rotten borough of New Romney came next in my way; and here, to my +great surprise, I found myself upon the sea-beach; for I had not looked +at a map of Kent for years, and, perhaps, never. I had got a list of +places from a friend in Sussex, whom I asked to give me a route to +Dover, and to send me through those parts of Kent which he thought would +be most interesting to me. Never was I so much surprised as when I saw +<i>a sail</i>. This place, now that the <i>squanderings</i> of the <span class="smcaplc">THING</span> are over, +is, they say, become miserably poor.</p> + +<p>From New Romney to Dimchurch is about four miles: all along I had the +sea-beach on my right, and, on my left, sometimes grass-land and +sometimes corn-land. They told me here, and also further back in the +Marsh, that they were to have 15s. an acre for reaping wheat.</p> + +<p>From Dimchurch to Hythe you go on the sea-beach, and nearly the same +from Hythe to Sandgate, from which last place you come over the hill to +Folkestone. But let me look back. Here has been the squandering! Here +has been the pauper-making work! Here we see some of these causes that +are now sending some farmers to the workhouse and driving others to flee +the country or to cut their throats!</p> + +<p>I had baited my horse at New Romney, and was coming jogging along very +soberly, now looking at the sea, then looking at the cattle, then the +corn, when my eye, in swinging round, lighted upon a great round +building standing upon the beach. I had scarcely had time to think about +what it could be when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> twenty or thirty others, standing along the +coast, caught my eye; and, if any one had been behind me, he might have +heard me exclaim, in a voice that made my horse bound, “The <i>Martello +Towers</i> by ——!” Oh, Lord! To think that I should be destined to behold +these monuments of the wisdom of Pitt and Dundas and Perceval! Good God! +Here they are, piles of bricks in a circular form about three hundred +feet (<i>guess</i>) circumference at the base, about forty feet high, and +about one hundred and fifty feet circumference at the top. There is a +door-way, about midway up, in each, and each has two windows. Cannons +were to be fired from the top of these things in order to defend the +country against the French Jacobins!</p> + +<p>I think I have counted along here upwards of thirty of these ridiculous +things, which, I dare say, cost five, perhaps ten, thousand pounds each; +and one of which was, I am told, <i>sold</i> on the coast of Sussex the other +day for two hundred pounds! There is, they say, a chain of these things +all the way to Hastings! I dare say they cost millions. But far indeed +are these from being all, or half, or a quarter of the squanderings +along here. Hythe is half <i>barracks</i>; the hills are covered with +barracks; and barracks most expensive, most squandering, fill up the +side of the hill. Here is a canal (I crossed it at Appledore) made for +the length of thirty miles (from Hythe, in Kent, to Rye, in Sussex) to +<i>keep out the French</i>; for those armies who had so often crossed the +Rhine and the Danube were to be kept back by a canal, made by Pitt, +thirty feet wide at the most! All along the coast there are works of +some sort or other; incessant sinks of money; walls of immense +dimensions; masses of stone brought and put into piles. Then you see +some of the walls and buildings falling down; some that have never been +finished. The whole thing, all taken together, looks as if a spell had +been, all of a sudden, set upon the workmen; or, in the words of the +Scripture, here is the “<i>desolation of abomination, standing in high +places</i>.” However, all is right. These things were made with the hearty +good will of those who are now coming to ruin in consequence of the +Debt, contracted for the purpose of making these things! This is all +<i>just</i>. The load will come, at last, upon the right shoulders.</p> + +<p>Between Hythe and Sandgate (a village at about two miles from Hythe) I +first saw the French coast. The chalk cliffs at Calais are as plain to +the view as possible, and also the land, which they tell me is near +Boulogne.</p> + +<p>Folkestone lies under a hill here, as Reigate does in Surrey, only here +the sea is open to your right as you come along. The corn is very early +here, and very fine. All cut, even the beans; and they will be ready to +cart in a day or two. Folkestone is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> now a little place; probably a +quarter part as big as it was formerly. Here is a church one hundred and +twenty feet long and fifty feet wide. It is a sort of little Cathedral. +The church-yard has evidently been three times as large as it is now.</p> + +<p>Before I got into Folkestone I saw no less than eighty-four men, women, +and boys and girls gleaning or leasing, in a field of about ten acres. +The people all along here complain most bitterly of the <i>change of +times</i>. The truth is, that the squandered millions are gone! The nation +has now to suffer for this squandering. The money served to silence +some; to make others bawl; to cause the good to be oppressed; to cause +the bad to be exalted; to “crush the Jacobins:” and what is the +<i>result</i>? What is the <i>end</i>? The <i>end</i> is not yet come; but as to the +result thus far, go, ask the families of those farmers who, after having +for so many years threatened to shoot Jacobins, have, in instances not a +few, shot themselves! Go, ask the ghosts of Pitt and of Castlereagh what +has thus far been the <i>result</i>! Go, ask the Hampshire farmer, who, not +many months since, actually blowed out his own brains with one of those +very pistols which he had long carried in his Yeomanry Cavalry holsters, +to be ready “to keep down the Jacobins and Radicals!” Oh, God! +inscrutable are Thy ways; but Thou art just, and of Thy justice what a +complete proof have we in the case of these very Martello Towers! They +were erected to keep out the Jacobin French, lest they should come and +assist the Jacobin English. The <i>loyal</i> people of this coast were +fattened by the building of them. Pitt and his loyal <i>Cinque Ports</i> +waged interminable war against Jacobins. These very towers are now used +to keep these <i>loyal</i> Cinque Ports themselves in order. These towers are +now used to lodge men, whose business it is to sally forth, not upon +Jacobins, but upon <i>smugglers</i>! Thus, after having sucked up millions of +the nation’s money, these loyal Cinque Ports are squeezed again: kept in +order, kept down, by the very towers which they rejoiced to see rise to +keep down the Jacobins.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Dover,<br />Monday, Sept. 1st, Evening.</i></p> + +<p>I got here this evening about six o’clock, having come to-day thirty-six +miles; but I must defer my remarks on the country between Folkestone and +this place; a most interesting spot, and well worthy of particular +attention. What place I shall date from after Dover I am by no means +certain; but be it from what place it may, the continuation of my +Journal shall be published in due course. If the Atlantic Ocean could +not cut off the communication between me and my readers, a mere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> strip +of water, not much wider than an American river, will hardly do it. I +am, in real truth, undecided, as yet, whether I shall go on to France or +back to the <i>Wen</i>. I think I shall, when I go out of this Inn, toss the +bridle upon my horse’s neck, and let him decide for me. I am sure he is +more fit to decide on such a point than our Ministers are to decide on +any point connected with the happiness, greatness, and honour of this +kingdom.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RURAL RIDE FROM DOVER, THROUGH THE ISLE OF THANET, BY CANTERBURY AND +FAVERSHAM, ACROSS TO MAIDSTONE, UP TO TONBRIDGE, THROUGH THE WEALD OF +KENT, AND OVER THE HILLS BY WESTERHAM AND HAYS, TO THE WEN.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Dover,<br />Wednesday, Sept. 3, 1823 (Evening).</i></p> + +<p>On Monday I was balancing in my own mind whether I should go to France +or not. To-day I have decided the question in the negative, and shall +set off this evening for the Isle of Thanet, that spot so famous for +corn.</p> + +<p>I broke off without giving an account of the country between Folkestone +and Dover, which is a very interesting one in itself, and was peculiarly +interesting to me on many accounts. I have often mentioned, in +describing the parts of the country over which I have travelled; I have +often mentioned the <i>chalk-ridge</i> and also the <i>sand-ridge</i>, which I had +traced, running parallel with each other from about Farnham, in Surrey, +to Sevenoaks, in Kent. The reader must remember how particular I have +been to observe that, in going up from Chilworth and Albury, through +Dorking, Reigate, Godstone, and so on, the two chains, or ridges, +approach so near to each other, that, in many places, you actually have +a chalk-bank to your right and a sand-bank to your left, at not more +than forty yards from each other. In some places, these chains of hills +run off from each other to a great distance, even to a distance of +twenty miles. They then approach again towards each other, and so they +go on. I was always desirous to ascertain whether these chains, or +ridges, continued on thus <i>to the sea</i>. I have now found that they do. +And, if you go out into the channel, at Folkestone, there you see a +sand-cliff and a chalk-cliff. Folkestone stands upon the sand, in a +little dell about seven hundred or eight hundred yards from the very +termination of the ridge. All the way along, the chalk-ridge is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> the +most lofty, until you come to Leith Hill and Hindhead; and here, at +Folkestone, the sand-ridge tapers off in a sort of flat towards the sea. +The land is like what it is at Reigate, a very steep hill; a hill of +full a mile high, and bending exactly in the same manner as the hill at +Reigate does. The turnpike-road winds up it and goes over it in exactly +the same manner as that at Reigate. The land to the south of the hill +begins a poor, thin, white loam upon the chalk; soon gets to be a very +fine rich loam upon the chalk; goes on till it mingles the chalky loam +with the sandy loam; and thus it goes on down to the sea-beach, or to +the edge of the cliff. It is a beautiful bed of earth here, resembling +in extent that on the south side of Portsdown Hill rather than that of +Reigate. The crops here are always good if they are good anywhere. A +large part of this fine tract of land, as well as the little town of +Sandgate (which is a beautiful little place upon the beach itself), and +also great part of the town of Folkestone belong, they tell me, to Lord +Radnor, who takes his title of Viscount from Folkestone. Upon the hill +begins, and continues on for some miles, that stiff red loam, +approaching to a clay, which I have several times described as forming +the soil at the top of this chalk-ridge. I spoke of it in the Register +of the 16th of August last, page 409, and I then said, that it was like +the land on the top of this very ridge at Ashmansworth in the north of +Hampshire. At Reigate you find precisely the same soil upon the top of +the hill, a very red, clayey sort of loam, with big yellow flint stones +in it. Everywhere, the soil is the same upon the top of the high part of +this ridge. I have now found it to be the same, on the edge of the sea, +that I found it on the north-east corner of Hampshire.</p> + +<p>From the hill, you keep descending all the way to Dover, a distance of +about six miles, and it is absolutely six miles of down hill. On your +right, you have the lofty land which forms a series of chalk cliffs, +from the top of which you look into the sea; on your left, you have +ground that goes rising up from you in the same sort of way. The +turnpike-road goes down the middle of a valley, each side of which, as +far as you can see, may be about a mile and a half. It is six miles +long, you will remember; and here, therefore, with very little +interruption, very few chasms, there are <i>eighteen square miles of +corn</i>. It is a patch such as you very seldom see, and especially of corn +so good as it is here. I should think that the wheat all along here +would average pretty nearly four quarters to the acre. A few oats are +sown. A great deal of barley, and that a very fine crop.</p> + +<p>The town of Dover is like other sea-port towns; but really much more +clean, and with less blackguard people in it than I ever observed in any +sea-port before. It is a most picturesque<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> place, to be sure. On one +side of it rises, upon the top of a very steep hill, the Old Castle, +with all its fortifications. On the other side of it there is another +chalk-hill, the side of which is pretty nearly perpendicular, and rises +up from sixty to a hundred feet higher than the tops of the houses, +which stand pretty nearly close to the foot of the hill.</p> + +<p>I got into Dover rather late. It was dusk when I was going down the +street towards the quay. I happened to look up, and was quite astonished +to perceive cows grazing upon a spot apparently fifty feet above the +tops of the houses, and measuring horizontally not, perhaps, more than +ten or twenty feet from a line which would have formed a continuation +into the air. I went up to the same spot, the next day, myself; and you +actually look down upon the houses, as you look out of a window upon +people in the street. The valley that runs down from Folkestone is, when +it gets to Dover, crossed by another valley that runs down from +Canterbury, or, at least, from the Canterbury direction. It is in the +gorge of this cross valley that Dover is built. The two chalk-hills jut +out into the sea, and the water that comes up between them forms a +harbour for this ancient, most interesting, and beautiful place. On the +hill to the north stands the Castle of Dover, which is fortified in the +ancient manner, except on the sea-side, where it has the steep <i>Cliff</i> +for a fortification. On the south side of the town, the hill is, I +believe, rather more lofty than that on the north side; and here is that +Cliff which is described by Shakspeare in the Play of King Lear. It is +fearfully steep, certainly. Very nearly perpendicular for a considerable +distance. The grass grows well, to the very tip of the cliff; and you +see cows and sheep grazing there with as much unconcern as if grazing in +the bottom of a valley.</p> + +<p>It was not, however, these natural curiosities that took me over <i>this</i> +hill; I went to see, with my own eyes, something of the sorts of means +that had been made use of to squander away countless millions of money. +Here is a hill containing, probably, a couple of square miles or more, +hollowed like a honeycomb. Here are line upon line, trench upon trench, +cavern upon cavern, bomb-proof upon bomb-proof; in short the very sight +of the thing convinces you that either madness the most humiliating, or +profligacy the most scandalous must have been at work here for years. +The question that every man of sense asks, is: What reason had you to +suppose that the <i>French could ever come to this hill</i> to attack it, +while the rest of the country was so much more easy to assail? However, +let any man of good plain understanding go and look at the works that +have here been performed, and that are now all tumbling into ruin. Let +him ask what this cavern was for; what that ditch was for; what this +tank was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> for; and why all these horrible holes and hiding-places at an +expense of millions upon millions? Let this scene be brought and placed +under the eyes of the people of England, and let them be told that Pitt +and Dundas and Perceval had these things done to prevent the country +from being conquered; with voice unanimous the nation would instantly +exclaim: Let the French or let the devil take us, rather than let us +resort to means of defence like these. This is, perhaps, the only set of +fortifications in the world ever framed for mere <i>hiding</i>. There is no +appearance of any intention to annoy an enemy. It is a parcel of holes +made in a hill, to hide Englishmen from Frenchmen. Just as if the +Frenchmen would come to this hill! Just as if they would not go (if they +came at all) and land in Romney Marsh, or on Pevensey Level, or anywhere +else, rather than come to this hill; rather than come to crawl up +Shakspeare’s cliff. All the way along the coast, from this very hill to +Portsmouth, or pretty nearly all the way, is a flat. What the devil +should they come to this hill for, then? And, when you ask this +question, they tell you that it is to have an army here <i>behind</i> the +French, after they had marched into the country! And for a purpose like +this; for a purpose so stupid, so senseless, so mad as this, and withal, +so scandalously disgraceful, more brick and stone have been buried in +this hill than would go to build a neat new cottage for every labouring +man in the counties of Kent and of Sussex!</p> + +<p>Dreadful is the scourge of such Ministers. However, those who supported +them will now have to suffer. The money must have been squandered +purposely, and for the worst ends. Fool as Pitt was; unfit as an old +hack of a lawyer, like Dundas, was to judge of the means of defending +the country, stupid as both these fellows were, and as their brother +lawyer, Perceval, was too: unfit as these lawyers were to judge in any +such a case, they must have known that this was an useless expenditure +of money. They must have known that; and, therefore, their general +folly, their general ignorance, is no apology for their conduct. What +they wanted, was to prevent the landing, not of Frenchmen, but of French +principles; that is to say, to prevent the example of the French from +being alluring to the people of England. The devil a bit did they care +for the Bourbons. They rejoiced at the killing of the king. They +rejoiced at the atheistical decree. They rejoiced at everything +calculated to alarm the timid and to excite horror in the people of +England in general. They wanted to keep out of England those principles +which had a natural tendency to destroy borough-mongering, and to put an +end to peculation and plunder. No matter whether by the means of +Martello Towers, making a great chalk-hill a honey-comb, cutting a canal +thirty feet wide to stop the march<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> of the armies of the Danube and the +Rhine: no matter how they squandered the money, so that it silenced some +and made others bawl to answer their great purpose of preventing French +example from having an influence in England. Simply their object was +this: to make the French people miserable; to force back the Bourbons +upon them as a <i>means</i> of making them miserable; to degrade France, to +make the people wretched; and then to have to say to the people of +England, Look there: <i>see what they have got by their attempts to obtain +liberty</i>! This was their object. They did not want Martello Towers and +honey-combed chalk-hills, and mad canals: they did not want these to +keep out the French armies. The borough-mongers and the parsons cared +nothing about the French armies. It was the French example that the +lawyers, borough-mongers, and parsons wished to keep out. And what have +they done? It is impossible to be upon this honey-combed hill, upon this +enormous mass of anti-jacobin expenditure, without seeing the +chalk-cliffs of Calais and the corn-fields of France. At this season, it +is impossible to see those fields without knowing that the farmers are +getting in their corn there as well as here; and it is impossible to +think of that fact without reflecting, at the same time, on the example +which the farmers of France hold out to the farmers of England. Looking +down from this very anti-jacobin hill, this day, I saw the parsons’ +shocks of wheat and barley, left in the field after the farmer had taken +his away. Turning my head, and looking across the Channel, “There,” said +I, pointing to France, “There the spirited and sensible people have +ridded themselves of this burden, of which our farmers so bitterly +complain.” It is impossible not to recollect here, that, in numerous +petitions, sent up, too, by the <i>loyal</i>, complaints have been made that +the English farmer has to carry on a competition against the French +farmer who has <i>no tithes to pay</i>! Well, <i>loyal gentlemen</i>, why do not +you petition, then, to be relieved from tithes? What do you mean else? +Do you mean to call upon our big gentlemen at Whitehall for them to +compel the French to pay tithes? Oh, you loyal fools! Better hold your +tongues about the French not paying tithes. Better do that, at any rate; +for never will they pay tithes again.</p> + +<p>Here is a large tract of <i>land</i> upon these hills at Dover, which is the +property of the public, having been purchased at an enormous expense. +This is now let out as pasture land to people of the town. I dare say +that the letting of this land is a curious affair. If there were a +Member for Dover who would do what he ought to do, he would soon get +before the public a list of the tenants, and of the rents paid by them. +I should like very much to see such list. Butterworth, the bookseller in +Fleet-street;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> he who is a sort of metropolitan of the methodists, is +one of the Members for Dover. The other is, I believe, that Wilbraham or +Bootle or Bootle Wilbraham, or some such name, that is a Lancashire +magistrate. So that Dover is prettily set up. However, there is nothing +of this sort, that can in the present state of things, be deemed to be +of any real consequence. As long as the people at Whitehall can go on +paying the interest of the Debt in full, so long will there be no change +worth the attention of any rational man. In the meanwhile, the French +nation will be going on rising over us; and our Ministers will be +cringing and crawling to every nation upon earth who is known to possess +a cannon or a barrel of powder.</p> + +<p>This very day I have read Mr. Canning’s Speech at Liverpool, with a +Yankee Consul sitting on his right hand. Not a word now about the bits +of bunting and the fir frigates; but now, America is the lovely +daughter, who, in a moment of excessive love, has gone off with a lover +(to wit, the French) and left the tender mother to mourn! What a fop! +And this is the man that talked so big and so bold. This is the clever, +the profound, the blustering, too, and, above all things, “the high +spirited” Mr. Canning. However, more of this, hereafter. I must get from +this Dover, as fast as I can.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Sandwich,<br />Wednesday, 3rd Sept. Night.</i></p> + +<p>I got to this place about half an hour after the ringing of the eight +o’clock bell, or Curfew, which I heard at about two miles’ distance from +the place. From the town of Dover you come up the Castle-Hill, and have +a most beautiful view from the top of it. You have the sea, the chalk +cliffs of Calais, the high land at Boulogne, the town of Dover just +under you, the valley towards Folkestone, and the much more beautiful +valley towards Canterbury; and, going on a little further, you have the +Downs and the Essex or Suffolk coast in full view, with a most beautiful +corn country to ride along through. The corn was chiefly cut between +Dover and Walmer. The barley almost all cut and tied up in sheaf. +Nothing but the beans seemed to remain standing along here. They are not +quite so good as the rest of the corn; but they are by no means bad. +When I came to the village of Walmer, I enquired for the Castle; that +famous place, where Pitt, Dundas, Perceval, and all the whole tribe of +plotters against the French Revolution had carried on their plots. After +coming through the village of Walmer, you see the entrance of the Castle +away to the right. It is situated pretty nearly on the water’s edge, and +at the bottom of a little dell, about a furlong or so from the +turnpike-road. This is now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> the habitation of our Great Minister, Robert +Bankes Jenkinson, son of Charles of that name. When I was told, by a +girl who was leasing in a field by the road side, that that was Walmer +Castle, I stopped short, pulled my horse round, looked steadfastly at +the gateway, and could not help exclaiming: “Oh, thou who inhabitest +that famous dwelling; thou, who hast always been in place, let who might +be out of place! Oh, thou everlasting placeman! thou sage of +‘over-production,’ do but cast thine eyes upon this barley-field, where, +if I am not greatly deceived, there are from seven to eight quarters +upon the acre! Oh, thou whose <i>Courier</i> newspaper has just informed its +readers that wheat will be seventy shillings the quarter, in the month +of November: oh, thou wise man, I pray thee come forth, from thy Castle, +and tell me what thou wilt do if wheat should happen to be, at the +appointed time, thirty-five shillings, instead of seventy shillings, the +quarter. Sage of over-production, farewell. If thou hast life, thou wilt +be Minister, as long as thou canst pay the interest of the Debt in full, +but not one moment longer. The moment thou ceasest to be able to squeeze +from the Normans a sufficiency to count down to the Jews their full +tale, that moment, thou great stern-path-of-duty man, thou wilt begin to +be taught the true meaning of the words <i>Ministerial Responsibility</i>.”</p> + +<p>Deal is a most villanous place. It is full of filthy-looking people. +Great desolation of abomination has been going on here; tremendous +barracks, partly pulled down and partly tumbling down, and partly +occupied by soldiers. Everything seems upon the perish. I was glad to +hurry along through it, and to leave its inns and public-houses to be +occupied by the tarred, and trowsered, and blue-and-buff crew whose very +vicinage I always detest. From Deal you come along to Upper Deal, which, +it seems, was the original village; thence upon a beautiful road to +Sandwich, which is a rotten Borough. Rottenness, putridity is excellent +for land, but bad for Boroughs. This place, which is as villanous a hole +as one would wish to see, is surrounded by some of the finest land in +the world. Along on one side of it, lies a marsh. On the other sides of +it is land which they tell me bears <i>seven quarters</i> of wheat to an +acre. It is certainly very fine; for I saw large pieces of radish-seed +on the road side; this seed is grown for the seedsmen in London; and it +will grow on none but rich land. All the corn is carried here except +some beans and some barley.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Canterbury,<br />Thursday Afternoon, 4th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>In quitting Sandwich, you immediately cross a river up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> which vessels +bring coals from the sea. This marsh is about a couple of miles wide. It +begins at the sea-beach, opposite the Downs, to my right hand, coming +from Sandwich, and it wheels round to my left and ends at the sea-beach, +opposite Margate roads. This marsh was formerly covered with the sea, +very likely; and hence the land within this sort of semi-circle, the +name of which is Thanet, was called an <i>Isle</i>. It is, in fact, an island +now, for the same reason that Portsea is an island, and that New York is +an island; for there certainly is the water in this river that goes +round and connects one part of the sea with the other. I had to cross +this river, and to cross the marsh, before I got into the famous Isle of +Thanet, which it was my intention to cross. Soon after crossing the +river, I passed by a place for making salt, and could not help +recollecting that there are no excisemen in these salt-making places in +France, that, before the Revolution, the French were most cruelly +oppressed by the duties on salt, that they had to endure, on that +account, the most horrid tyranny that ever was known, except, perhaps, +that practised in an <i>Exchequer</i> that shall here be nameless; that +thousands and thousands of men and women were every year sent to the +galleys for what was called smuggling salt; that the fathers and even +the mothers were imprisoned or whipped if the children were detected in +smuggling salt: I could not help reflecting, with delight, as I looked +at these salt-pans in the Isle of Thanet; I could not help reflecting, +that in spite of Pitt, Dundas, Perceval, and the rest of the crew, in +spite of the caverns of Dover and the Martello Towers in Romney Marsh: +in spite of all the spies and all the bayonets, and the six hundred +millions of Debt and the hundred and fifty millions of dead-weight, and +the two hundred millions of poor-rates that are now squeezing the +borough-mongers, squeezing the farmers, puzzling the fellows at +Whitehall and making Mark-lane a scene of greater interest than the +Chamber of the Privy Council; with delight as I jogged along under the +first beams of the sun, I reflected, that, in spite of all the malignant +measures that had brought so much misery upon England, the gallant +French people had ridded themselves of the tyranny which sent them to +the galleys for endeavouring to use without tax the salt which God sent +upon their shores. Can any man tell why we should still be paying five, +or six, or seven shillings a bushel for salt, instead of one? We did pay +fifteen shillings a bushel, tax. And why is two shillings a bushel kept +on? Because, if they were taken off, the salt-tax-gathering crew must be +discharged! This tax of two shillings a bushel, causes the consumer to +pay five, at the least, more than he would if there were no tax at all! +When, great God! when shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> we be allowed to enjoy God’s gifts, in +freedom, as the people of France enjoy them?</p> + +<p>On the marsh I found the same sort of sheep as on Romney Marsh; but the +cattle here are chiefly Welsh; black, and called runts. They are nice +hardy cattle; and, I am told, that this is the description of cattle +that they fat all the way up on this north side of Kent.——When I got +upon the corn land in the Isle of Thanet, I got into a garden indeed. +There is hardly any fallow; comparatively few turnips. It is a country +of corn. Most of the harvest is in; but there are some fields of wheat +and of barley not yet housed. A great many pieces of lucerne, and all of +them very fine. I left Ramsgate to my right about three miles, and went +right across the island to Margate; but that place is so thickly settled +with stock-jobbing cuckolds, at this time of the year, that, having no +fancy to get their horns stuck into me, I turned away to my left when I +got within about half a mile of the town. I got to a little hamlet, +where I breakfasted; but could get no corn for my horse, and no bacon +for myself! All was corn around me. Barns, I should think, two hundred +feet long; ricks of enormous size and most numerous; crops of wheat, +five quarters to an acre, on the average; and a public-house without +either bacon or corn! The labourers’ houses, all along through this +island, beggarly in the extreme. The people dirty, poor-looking; ragged, +but particularly <i>dirty</i>. The men and boys with dirty faces, and dirty +smock-frocks, and dirty shirts; and, good God! what a difference between +the wife of a labouring man here, and the wife of a labouring man in the +forests and woodlands of Hampshire and Sussex! Invariably have I +observed, that the richer the soil, and the more destitute of woods; +that is to say, the more purely a corn country, the more miserable the +labourers. The cause is this, the great, the big bull frog grasps all. +In this beautiful island every inch of land is appropriated by the rich. +No hedges, no ditches, no commons, no grassy lanes: a country divided +into great farms; a few trees surround the great farm-house. All the +rest is bare of trees; and the wretched labourer has not a stick of +wood, and has no place for a pig or cow to graze, or even to lie down +upon. The rabbit countries are the countries for labouring men. There +the ground is not so valuable. There it is not so easily appropriated by +the few. Here, in this island, the work is almost all done by the +horses. The horses plough the ground; they sow the ground; they hoe the +ground; they carry the corn home; they thresh it out; and they carry it +to market: nay, in this island, they <i>rake</i> the ground; they rake up the +straggling straws and ears; so that they do the whole, except the +reaping and the mowing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> It is impossible to have an idea of anything +more miserable than the state of the labourers in this part of the +country.</p> + +<p>After coming by Margate, I passed a village called Monckton, and another +called Sarr. At Sarr there is a bridge, over which you come out of the +island, as you go into it over the bridge at Sandwich. At Monckton they +had <i>seventeen men working on the roads</i>, though the harvest was not +quite in, and though, of course, it had all to be threshed out; but, at +Monckton, they had <i>four threshing machines</i>; and they have three +threshing machines at Sarr, though there, also, they have several men +upon the roads! This is a shocking state of things; and, in spite of +everything that the Jenkinsons and the Scots can do, this state of +things must be changed.</p> + +<p>At Sarr, or a little way further back, I saw a man who had just begun to +reap a field of canary seed. The plants were too far advanced to be cut +in order to be bleached for the making of plat; but I got the reaper to +select me a few green stalks that grew near a bush that stood on the +outside of the piece. These I have brought on with me, in order to give +them a trial. At Sarr I began to cross the marsh, and had, after this, +to come through the village of Up-street, and another village called +Steady, before I got to Canterbury. At Up-street I was struck with the +words written upon a board which was fastened upon a pole, which pole +was standing in a garden near a neat little box of a house. The words +were these. “<span class="smcap">Paradise Place.</span> <i>Spring guns and steel traps are set +here.</i>” A pretty idea it must give us of Paradise to know that spring +guns and steel traps are set in it! This is doubtless some +stock-jobber’s place; for, in the first place, the name is likely to +have been selected by one of that crew; and, in the next place, whenever +any of them go to the country, they look upon it that they are to begin +a sort of warfare against everything around them. They invariably look +upon every labourer as a thief.</p> + +<p>As you approach Canterbury, from the Isle of Thanet, you have another +instance of the squanderings of the lawyer Ministers. Nothing equals the +ditches, the caverns, the holes, the tanks, and hiding-places of the +hill at Dover; but, considerable as the City of Canterbury is, that city +within its gates stands upon less ground than those horrible erections, +the barracks of Pitt, Dundas, and Perceval. They are perfectly enormous; +but thanks be unto God, they begin to crumble down. They have a sickly +hue: all is lassitude about them: endless are their lawns, their gravel +walks, and their ornaments; but their lawns are unshaven, their gravel +walks grassy, and their ornaments putting on the garments of ugliness. +You see the grass growing opposite the door-ways. A hole in the window<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +strikes you here and there. Lamp-posts there are, but no lamps. Here are +horse-barracks, foot-barracks, artillery-barracks, engineer-barracks: a +whole country of barracks; but, only here and there a soldier. The thing +is actually perishing. It is typical of the state of the great Thing of +things. It gave me inexpressible pleasure to perceive the gloom that +seemed to hang over these barracks, which once swarmed with soldiers and +their blithe companions, as a hive swarms with bees. These barracks now +look like the environs of a hive in winter. Westminster Abbey Church is +not the place for the monument of Pitt; the statue of the great snorting +bawler ought to be stuck up here, just in the midst of this hundred or +two of acres covered with barracks. These barracks, too, were erected in +order to compel the French to return to the payment of tithes; in order +to bring their necks again under the yoke of the lords and the clergy. +That has not been accomplished. The French, as Mr. Hoggart assures us, +have neither tithes, taxes, nor rates; and the people of Canterbury know +that they have a <i>hop-duty</i> to pay, while Mr. Hoggart, of Broad-street, +tells them that he has farms to let, in France, where there are +hop-gardens and where there is no hop-duty. They have lately had races +at Canterbury; and the Mayor and Aldermen, in order to get the Prince +Leopold to attend them, presented him with the Freedom of the City; but +it rained all the time and he did not come! The Mayor and Aldermen do +not understand things half so well as this German Gentleman, who has +managed his matters as well, I think, as any one that I ever heard of.</p> + +<p>This fine old town, or, rather, city, is remarkable for cleanliness and +niceness, notwithstanding it has a Cathedral in it. The country round it +is very rich, and this year, while the hops are so bad in most other +parts, they are not so very bad just about Canterbury.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Elverton Farm, near Faversham,<br />Friday Morning, Sept. 5.</i></p> + +<p>In going through Canterbury, yesterday, I gave a boy six-pence to hold +my horse, while I went into the Cathedral, just to thank St. Swithin for +the trick that he had played my friends, the Quakers. Led along by the +wet weather till after the harvest had actually begun, and then to find +the weather turn fine, all of a sudden! This must have soused them +pretty decently; and I hear of one, who, at Canterbury, has made a +bargain by which he will certainly lose two thousand pounds. The land +where I am now is equal to that of the Isle of Thanet. The harvest is +nearly over, and all the crops have been prodigiously fine. In coming +from Canterbury, you come to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> top of a hill, called Baughton Hill, +at four miles from Canterbury on the London road; and you there look +down into one of the finest flats in England. A piece of marsh comes up +nearly to Faversham; and, at the edge of that marsh lies the farm where +I now am. The land here is a deep loam upon chalk; and this is also the +nature of the land in the Isle of Thanet and all the way from that to +Dover. The orchards grow well upon this soil. The trees grow finely, the +fruit is large and of fine flavour.</p> + +<p>In 1821 I gave Mr. William Waller, who lives here, some American +apple-cuttings; and he has now some as fine Newtown Pippins as one would +wish to see. They are very large of their sort; very free in their +growth; and they promise to be very fine apples of the kind. Mr. Waller +had cuttings from me off several sorts, in 1822. These were cut down +last year; they have, of course, made shoots this summer; and great +numbers of these shoots have fruit-spurs, which will have blossom, if +not fruit, next year. This very rarely happens, I believe; and the state +of Mr. Waller’s trees clearly proves to me that the introduction of +these American trees would be a great improvement.</p> + +<p>My American apples, when I left Kensington, promised to be very fine; +and the apples, which I have frequently mentioned as being upon cuttings +imported last Spring, promised to come to perfection; a thing which, I +believe, we have not an instance of before.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Merryworth,<br />Friday Evening, 5th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>A friend at Tenterden told me that, if I had a mind to know Kent, I must +go through Romney Marsh to Dover, from Dover to Sandwich, from Sandwich +to Margate, from Margate to Canterbury, from Canterbury to Faversham, +from Faversham to Maidstone, and from Maidstone to Tonbridge. I found +from Mr. Waller, this morning, that the regular turnpike route, from his +house to Maidstone, was through Sittingbourne. I had been along that +road several times; and besides, to be covered with dust was what I +could not think of, when I had it in my power to get to Maidstone +without it. I took the road across the country, quitting the London +road, or rather, crossing it, in the dell, between Ospringe and +Green-street. I instantly began to go up hill, slowly, indeed; but up +hill. I came through the villages of Newnham, Doddington, Ringlestone, +and to that of Hollingbourne. I had come up hill for thirteen miles, +from Mr. Waller’s house. At last, I got to the top of this hill, and +went along, for some distance, upon level ground. I found I was got upon +just the same sort of land as that on the hill at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> Folkestone, at +Reigate, at Ropley, and at Ashmansworth. The red clayey loam, mixed up +with great yellow flint stones. I found fine meadows here, just such as +are at Ashmansworth (that is to say, on the north Hampshire hills.) This +sort of ground is characterized by an astonishing depth that they have +to go for the water. At Ashmansworth, they go to a depth of more than +three hundred feet. As I was riding along upon the top of this hill in +Kent, I saw the same beautiful sort of meadows that there are at +Ashmansworth; I saw the corn backward; I was just thinking to go up to +some house, to ask how far they had to go for water, when I saw a large +well-bucket, and all the chains and wheels belonging to such a concern; +but here was also the tackle for a <i>horse</i> to work in drawing up the +water! I asked about the depth of the well; and the information I +received must have been incorrect; because I was told it was three +hundred yards. I asked this of a public-house keeper farther on, not +seeing anybody where the farm-house was. I make no doubt that the depth +is, as near as possible, that of Ashmansworth. Upon the top of this +hill, I saw the finest field of beans that I have seen this year, and, +by very far, indeed, the <i>finest piece of hops</i>. A beautiful piece of +hops, surrounded by beautiful plantations of young ash, producing poles +for hop-gardens. My road here pointed towards the west. It soon wheeled +round towards the south; and, all of a sudden, I found myself upon the +edge of a hill, as lofty and as steep as that at Folkestone, at Reigate, +or at Ashmansworth. It was the same famous chalk-ridge that I was +crossing again. When I got to the edge of the hill, and before I got off +my horse to lead him down this more than mile of hill, I sat and +surveyed the prospect before me, and to the right and to the left. This +is what the people of Kent call the <i>Garden of Eden</i>. It is a district +of meadows, corn-fields, hop-gardens, and orchards of apples, pears, +cherries and filberts, with very little if any land which cannot, with +propriety, be called good. There are plantations of Chestnut and of Ash +frequently occurring; and as these are cut when long enough to make +poles for hops, they are at all times objects of great beauty.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the hill of which I have been speaking, is the village of +Hollingbourne; thence you come on to Maidstone. From Maidstone to this +place (Merryworth) is about seven miles, and these are the finest seven +miles that I have ever seen in England or anywhere else. The Medway is +to your left, with its meadows about a mile wide. You cross the Medway, +in coming out of Maidstone, and it goes and finds its way down to +Rochester, through a break in the chalk-ridge. From Maidstone to +Merryworth I should think that there were hop-gardens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> on one half of +the way on both sides of the road. Then looking across the Medway, you +see hop-gardens and orchards two miles deep, on the side of a gently +rising ground: and this continues with you all the way from Maidstone to +Merryworth. The orchards form a great feature of the country; and the +plantations of Ashes and of Chestnuts that I mentioned before, add +greatly to the beauty. These gardens of hops are kept very clean, in +general, though some of them have been neglected this year owing to the +bad appearance of the crop. The culture is sometimes mixed: that is to +say, apple-trees or cherry-trees or filbert-trees and hops, in the same +ground. This is a good way, they say, of raising an orchard. I do not +believe it; and I think that nothing is gained by any of these mixtures. +They plant apple-trees or cherry-trees in rows here; they then plant a +filbert-tree close to each of these large fruit-trees; and then they +cultivate the middle of the ground by planting potatoes. This is being +too greedy. It is impossible that they can gain by this. What they gain +one way they lose the other way; and I verily believe, that the most +profitable way would be, never to mix things at all. In coming from +Maidstone I passed through a village called Teston, where Lord Basham +has a seat.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Tonbridge,<br />Saturday morning, 6th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>I came off from Merryworth a little before five o’clock, passed the seat +of Lord Torrington, the friend of Mr. Barretto. This Mr. Barretto ought +not to be forgotten so soon. In 1820 he sued for articles of the peace +against Lord Torrington, for having menaced him, in consequence of his +having pressed his Lordship about some money. It seems that Lord +Torrington had known him in the East Indies; that they came home +together, or soon after one another; that his Lordship invited Mr. +Barretto to his best parties in India; that he got him introduced at +Court in England by Sidmouth; that he got him made a <i>Fellow of the +Royal Society</i>; and that he tried to get him introduced into Parliament. +His Lordship, when Barretto rudely pressed him for his money, reminded +him of all this, and of the many difficulties that he had had to +overcome with regard to his <i>colour</i> and so forth. Nevertheless, the +dingy skinned Court visitant pressed in such a way that Lord Torrington +was obliged to be pretty smart with him, whereupon the other sued for +articles of the peace against his Lordship; but these were not granted +by the Court. This Barretto issued a hand-bill at the last election as a +candidate for St. Albans. I am truly sorry that he was not elected. Lord +Camelford threatened to put in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> black fellow; but he was a sad +swaggering fellow; and had, at last, too much of the borough-monger in +him to do a thing so meritorious. Lord Torrington’s is but an +indifferent looking place.</p> + +<p>I here began to see Southdown sheep again, which I had not seen since +the time I left Tenterden. All along here the villages are at not more +than two miles’ distance from each other. They have all large churches, +and scarcely anybody to go to them. At a village called Hadlow, there is +a house belonging to a Mr. May, the most singular looking thing I ever +saw. An immense house stuck all over with a parcel of chimneys, or +things like chimneys; little brick columns, with a sort of caps on them, +looking like carnation sticks, with caps at the top to catch the +earwigs. The building is all of brick, and has the oddest appearance of +anything I ever saw. This Tonbridge is but a common country town, though +very clean, and the people looking very well. The climate must be pretty +warm here; for in entering the town, I saw a large Althea Frutex in +bloom, a thing rare enough, any year, and particularly a year like this.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Westerham,<br />Saturday, Noon, 6th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>Instead of going on to the Wen along the turnpike road through +Sevenoaks, I turned to my left when I got about a mile out of Tonbridge, +in order to come along that tract of country called the Weald of Kent; +that is to say, the solid clays, which have no bottom, which are unmixed +with chalk, sand, stone, or anything else; the country of dirty roads +and of oak trees. I stopped at Tonbridge only a few minutes; but in the +Weald I stopped to breakfast at a place called Leigh. From Leigh I came +to Chittingstone causeway, leaving Tonbridge Wells six miles over the +hills to my left. From Chittingstone I came to Bough-beach, thence to +Four Elms, and thence to this little market-town of Westerham, which is +just upon the border of Kent. Indeed, Kent, Surrey, and Sussex form a +joining very near to this town. Westerham, exactly like Reigate and +Godstone, and Sevenoaks, and Dorking, and Folkestone, lies between the +sand-ridge and the chalk-ridge. The valley is here a little wider than +at Reigate, and that is all the difference there is between the places. +As soon as you get over the sand hill to the south of Reigate, you get +into the Weald of Surrey; and here, as soon as you get over the sand +hill to the south of Westerham, you get into the Weald of Kent.</p> + +<p>I have now, in order to get to the Wen, to cross the chalk-ridge once +more, and, at a point where I never crossed it before. Coming through +the Weald I found the corn very good; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> low as the ground is, wet as +it is, cold as it is, there will be very little of the wheat which will +not be housed before Saturday night. All the corn is good, and the +barley excellent. Not far from Bough-beach, I saw two oak trees, one of +which was, they told me, more than thirty feet round, and the other more +than twenty-seven; but they have been hollow for half a century. They +are not much bigger than the oak upon Tilford Green, if any. I mean in +the trunk; but they are hollow, while that tree is sound in all its +parts, and growing still. I have had a most beautiful ride through the +Weald. The day is very hot; but I have been in the shade; and my horse’s +feet very often in the rivulets and wet lanes. In one place I rode above +a mile completely arched over by the boughs of the underwood, growing in +the banks of the lane. What an odd taste that man must have who prefers +a turnpike-road to a lane like this.</p> + +<p>Very near to Westerham there are hops: and I have seen now and then a +little bit of hop garden, even in the Weald. Hops will grow well where +lucerne will grow well; and lucerne will grow well where there is a rich +top and a dry bottom. When therefore you see hops in the Weald, it is on +the side of some hill, where there is sand or stone at bottom, and not +where there is real clay beneath. There appear to be hops, here and +there, all along from nearly at Dover to Alton, in Hampshire. You find +them all along Kent; you find them at Westerham; across at Worth, in +Sussex; at Godstone, in Surrey; over to the north of Merrow Down, near +Guildford; at Godalming; under the Hog’s-back, at Farnham; and all along +that way to Alton. But there, I think, they end. The whole face of the +country seems to rise, when you get just beyond Alton, and to keep up. +Whether you look to the north, the south, or west, the land seems to +rise, and the hops cease, till you come again away to the north-west, in +Herefordshire.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington,<br />Saturday night, 6 Sept.</i></p> + +<p>Here I close my day, at the end of forty-four miles. In coming up the +chalk hill from Westerham, I prepared myself for the red stiff clay-like +loam, the big yellow flints and the meadows; and I found them all. I +have now gone over this chalk-ridge in the following places: at Coombe +in the north-west of Hampshire; I mean the north-west corner, the very +extremity of the county. I have gone over it at Ashmansworth, or +Highclere, going from Newbury to Andover; at King’s Clere, going from +Newbury to Winchester; at Ropley, going from Alresford to Selborne; at +Dippinghall, going from Crondall to Thursly; at Merrow, going from +Chertsey to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Chilworth; at Reigate; at Westerham, and then, between +these, at Godstone; at Sevenoaks, going from London to Battle; at +Hollingbourne, as mentioned above, and at Folkestone. In all these +places I have crossed this chalk-ridge. Everywhere, upon the top of it, +I have found a flat, and the soil of all these flats I have found to be +a red stiff loam mingled up with big yellow flints. A soil difficult to +work; but by no means bad, whether for wood, hops, grass, orchards, or +corn. I once before mentioned that I was assured that the pasture upon +these bleak hills was as rich as that which is found in the north of +Wiltshire, in the neighbourhood of Swindon, where they make some of the +best cheese in the kingdom. Upon these hills I have never found the +labouring people poor and miserable, as in the rich vales. All is not +appropriated where there are coppices and wood, where the cultivation is +not so easy and the produce so very large.</p> + +<p>After getting up the hill from Westerham, I had a general descent to +perform all the way to the Thames. When you get to Beckenham, which is +the last parish in Kent, the country begins to assume a cockney-like +appearance; all is artificial, and you no longer feel any interest in +it. I was anxious to make this journey into Kent, in the midst of +harvest, in order that I might <i>know</i> the real state of the crops. The +result of my observations and my inquiries, is, that the crop is a <i>full +average</i> crop of everything except barley, and that the barley yields a +great deal more than an average crop. I thought that the beans were very +poor during my ride into Hampshire; but I then saw no real bean +countries. I have seen such countries now; and I do not think that the +beans present us with a bad crop. As to the quality, it is, in no case +(except perhaps the barley), equal to that of last year. We had, last +year, an Italian summer. When the wheat, or other grain has to <i>ripen in +wet weather</i>, it will not be <i>bright</i>, as it will when it has to ripen +in fair weather. It will have a dingy or clouded appearance; and perhaps +the flour may not be quite so good. The wheat, in fact, will not be so +heavy. In order to enable others to judge, as well as myself, I took +samples from the fields as I went along. I took them very fairly, and as +often as I thought that there was any material change in the soil or +other circumstances. During the ride I took sixteen samples. These are +now at the Office of the Register, in Fleet-street, where they may be +seen by any gentleman who thinks the information likely to be useful to +him. The samples are numbered, and there is a reference pointing out the +place where each sample was taken. The opinions that I gather amount to +this: that there is an average crop of everything, and a little more of +barley.</p> + +<p>Now then we shall see how all this tallies with the schemes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> with the +intentions and expectations of our matchless gentlemen at Whitehall. +These wise men have put forth their views in the <i>Courier</i> of the 27th +of August, and in words which ought never to be forgotten, and which, at +any rate, shall be recorded here.</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Grain.</span>—During the present unsettled state of the weather, it is +impossible for the best informed persons to anticipate upon good grounds +what will be the future price of agricultural produce. Should the season +even yet prove favourable for the operations of the harvest, there is +every probability of the average price of grain continuing at that exact +price which will prove most conducive to the interests of the corn +growers, and at the same time encouraging to the agriculture of our +colonial possessions. We do not speak lightly on this subject, for we +are aware that His Majesty’s Ministers have been fully alive to the +inquiries from all qualified quarters as to the effect likely to be +produced on the markets from the addition of the present crops to the +stock of wheat already on hand. The result of these inquiries is, that +in the highest quarters there exists the full expectation, that towards +the month of November, the price of wheat will nearly approach to +seventy shillings, a price which, while it affords the extent of +remuneration to the British farmer recognized by the corn laws, will at +the same time admit of the sale of the Canadian bonded wheat; and the +introduction of this foreign corn, grown by British colonists, will +contribute to keeping down our markets, and exclude foreign grain from +other quarters.”</p> + +<p>There’s nice gentlemen of Whitehall! What pretty gentlemen they are! +“<i>Envy of surrounding nations</i>,” indeed, to be under command of pretty +gentlemen who can make calculations so nice, and put forth predictions +so positive upon such a subject! “<i>Admiration of the world</i>,” indeed, to +live under the command of men who can so control seasons and markets; +or, at least, who can so dive into the secrets of trade, and find out +the contents of the fields, barns, and ricks, as to be able to balance +things so nicely as to cause the Canadian corn to find a market, without +injuring the sale of that of the British farmer, and without admitting +that of the French farmer and the other farmers of the continent! Happy, +too happy, rogues that we are, to be under the guidance of such pretty +gentlemen, and right just is it that we should be banished for life, if +we utter a word <i>tending</i> to bring such pretty gentlemen into contempt.</p> + +<p>Let it be observed, that this paragraph <i>must</i> have come from Whitehall. +This wretched paper is the demi-official organ of the Government. As to +the owners of the paper, Daniel Stewart, that notorious fellow, Street, +and the rest of them, not excluding the brother of the great Oracle, +which brother bought, the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> day, a share of this vehicle of +baseness and folly; as to these fellows, they have no control other than +what relates to the expenditure and the receipts of the vehicle. They +get their news from the offices of the Whitehall people, and their paper +is the mouth-piece of those same people. Mark this, I pray you, reader; +and let the French people mark it, too, and then take their revenge for +the Waterloo insolence. This being the case, then; this paragraph +proceeding from the pretty gentlemen, what a light it throws on their +expectations, their hopes, and their fears. They see that wheat at +seventy shillings a quarter is <i>necessary</i> to them! Ah! pray mark that! +They see that wheat at seventy shillings a quarter is necessary to them; +and, therefore, they say that wheat will be at seventy shillings a +quarter, the price, as they call it, necessary to remunerate the British +farmer. And how do the conjurers at Whitehall know this? Why, they have +made full inquiries “in qualified quarters.” And the qualified quarters +have satisfied the “highest quarters,” that, “towards the month of +November, the price of wheat will nearly approach to seventy shillings +the quarter!” I wonder what the words towards the “end of November,” may +mean. Devil’s in’t if middle of September is not “<i>towards</i> November;” +and the wheat, instead of going on towards seventy shillings, is very +fast coming down to forty. The beast who wrote this paragraph; the +pretty beast; this “envy of surrounding nations” wrote it on the 27th of +August, <i>a soaking wet Saturday</i>! The pretty beast was not aware, that +the next day was going to be fine, and that we were to have only the +succeeding Tuesday and half the following Saturday of wet weather until +the whole of the harvest should be in. The pretty beast wrote while the +rain was spattering against the window; and he did “not speak lightly,” +but was fully aware that the highest quarters, having made inquiries of +the qualified quarters, were sure that wheat would be at seventy +shillings during the ensuing year. What will be the price of wheat it is +impossible for any one to say. I know a gentleman, who is a very good +judge of such matters, who is of opinion that the average price of wheat +will be thirty-two shillings a quarter, or lower, before Christmas; this +is not quite half what the <i>highest quarters</i> expect, in consequence of +the inquiries which they have made of the <i>qualified quarters</i>. I do not +say, that the average of wheat will come down to thirty-two shillings; +but this I know, that at Reading, last Saturday, about forty-five +shillings was the price; and, I hear, that, in Norfolk, the price is +forty-two. The <i>highest quarters</i>, and the infamous London press, will, +at any rate, be prettily exposed, before Christmas. Old Sir Thomas +Lethbridge, too, and Gaffer Gooch, and his base tribe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> of Pittites at +Ipswich; Coke and Suffield, and their crew; all these will be prettily +laughed at; nor will that “tall soul,” Lord Milton, escape being +reminded of his profound and patriotic observation relative to “this +self-renovating country.” No sooner did he see the wheat get up to sixty +or seventy shillings than he lost all his alarms; found that all things +were right, turned his back on Yorkshire Reformers, and went and toiled +for Scarlett at Peterborough: and discovered, that there was nothing +wrong, at last, and that the “self-renovating country” would triumph +over all its difficulties!—So it will, “tall soul;” it will triumph +over all its difficulties; it will renovate itself; it will purge itself +of rotten boroughs, of vile borough-mongers, their tools and their +stopgaps; it will purge itself of all the villanies which now corrode +its heart; it will, in short, free itself from those curses, which the +expenditure of eight or nine hundred millions of English money took +place in order to make perpetual: it will, in short, become free from +oppression, as easy and as happy as the gallant and sensible nation on +the other side of the Channel. This is the sort of renovation, but not +renovation by the means of wheat at seventy shillings a quarter. +Renovation it will have: it will rouse and will shake from itself curses +like the pension which is paid to Burke’s executors. This is the sort of +renovation, “tall soul;” and not wheat at 70<i>s.</i> a quarter, while it is +at twenty-five shillings a quarter in France. Pray observe, reader, how +the “tall soul” <i>catched</i> at the rise in the price of wheat: how he +<i>snapped</i> at it: how quickly he ceased his attacks upon the Whitehall +people and upon the System. He thought he had been deceived: he thought +that things were coming about again; and so he drew in his horns, and +began to talk about the self-renovating country. This was the tone of +them <i>all</i>. This was the tone of all the borough-mongers; all the +friends of the System; all those, who, like Lethbridge, had begun to be +staggered. They had deviated, for a moment, into our path! but they +popped back again the moment they saw the price of wheat rise! All the +enemies of Reform, all the calumniators of Reformers, all the friends of +the System, most anxiously desired a rise in the price of wheat. Mark +the curious fact, that all the vile press of London; the whole of that +infamous press; that newspapers, magazines, reviews: the whole of the +base thing; and a baser surely this world never saw; that the whole of +this base thing rejoiced, exulted, crowed over me, and told an impudent +lie, in order to have the crowing; crowed, for what? <i>Because wheat and +bread were become dear!</i> A newspaper hatched under a corrupt Priest, a +profligate Priest, and recently espoused to the hell of Pall Mall; even +this vile thing crowed because wheat and bread<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> had become dear! Now, it +is notorious, that, heretofore, every periodical publication in this +kingdom was in the constant habit of lamenting, when bread became dear, +and of rejoicing, when it became cheap. This is notorious. Nay, it is +equally notorious, that this infamous press was everlastingly assailing +bakers, and millers, and butchers, for not selling bread, flour, and +meat cheaper than they were selling them. In how many hundreds of +instances has this infamous press caused attacks to be made by the mob +upon tradesmen of this description! All these things are notorious. +Moreover, notorious it is that, long previous to every harvest, this +infamous, this execrable, this beastly press, was engaged in stunning +the public with accounts of the <i>great crop</i> which was just coming +forward! There was always, with this press, a prodigiously large crop. +This was invariably the case. It was never known to be the contrary.</p> + +<p>Now these things are perfectly well known to every man in England. How +comes it, then, reader, that the profligate, the trading, the lying, the +infamous press of London, has now totally changed its tone and bias. The +base thing never now tells us that there is a great crop or even a good +crop. It never now wants cheap bread and cheap wheat and cheap meat. It +never now finds fault of bakers and butchers. It now always endeavours +to make it appear that corn is dearer than it is. The base <i>Morning +Herald</i>, about three weeks ago, not only suppressed the fact of the fall +of wheat, but asserted that there had been a rise in the price. Now <i>why +is all this</i>? That is a great question, reader. That is a very +interesting question. Why has this infamous press, which always pursues +that which it thinks its own interest; why has it taken this strange +turn? This is the reason: stupid as the base thing is, it has arrived at +a conviction, that if the price of the produce of the land cannot be +kept up to something approaching ten shillings a bushel for good wheat, +the hellish system of funding must be blown up. The infamous press has +arrived at a conviction, that that cheating, that fraudulent system by +which this press lives, must be destroyed unless the price of corn can +be kept up. The infamous traders of the press are perfectly well +satisfied, that the interest of the Debt must be reduced, unless wheat +can be kept up to nearly ten shillings a bushel. Stupid as they are, and +stupid as the fellows down at Westminster are, they know very well, that +the whole system, stock-jobbers, Jews, cant and all, go to the devil at +once, as soon as a deduction is made from the interest of the Debt. +Knowing this, they want wheat to sell high; because it has, at last, +been hammered into their skulls, that the interest cannot be paid in +full, if wheat sells low. Delightful is the dilemma in which they are.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +Dear bread does not suit their manufactories, and cheap bread does not +suit their Debt. “<i>Envy of surrounding nations</i>,” how hard it is that +Providence will not enable your farmers to sell dear and the consumers +to buy cheap! These are the things that you want. Admiration of the +world you are; but have these things you will not. There may be those, +indeed, who question whether you yourself know what you want; but, at +any rate, if you want these things, you will not have them.</p> + +<p>Before I conclude, let me ask the reader to take a look at the +<i>singularity</i> of the tone and tricks of this Six-Acts Government. Is it +not a novelty in the world to see a Government, and in ordinary seasons, +too, having its whole soul absorbed in considerations relating to the +price of corn? There are our neighbours, the French, who have got a +Government engaged in taking military possession of a great neighbouring +kingdom to free which from these very French, we have recently expended +a <i>hundred and fifty millions of money</i>. Our neighbours have got a +Government that is thus engaged, and we have got a Government that +employs itself in making incessant “inquiries in all the qualified +quarters” relative to the price of wheat! Curious employment for a +Government! Singular occupation for the Ministers of the Great George! +They seem to think nothing of Spain, with its eleven millions of people, +being in fact added to France. Wholly insensible do they appear to +concerns of this sort, while they sit thinking, day and night, upon the +price of the bushel of wheat!</p> + +<p>However, they are not, after all, such fools as they appear to be. +Despicable, indeed, must be that nation, whose safety or whose happiness +does, in any degree, depend on so fluctuating a thing as the price of +corn. This is a matter that we must take as it comes. The seasons will +be what they will be; and all the calculations of statesmen must be made +wholly independent of the changes and chances of seasons. This has +always been the case, to be sure. What nation could ever carry on its +affairs, if it had to take into consideration the price of corn? +Nevertheless, such is the situation of <i>our Government</i>, that its very +existence, in its present way, depends upon the price of corn. The +pretty fellows at Whitehall, if you may say to them: Well, but look at +Spain; look at the enormous strides of the French; think of the +consequences in case of another war; look, too, at the growing marine of +America. See, Mr. Jenkinson, see, Mr. Canning, see, Mr. Huskisson, see, +Mr. Peel, and all ye tribe of Grenvilles, see, what tremendous dangers +are gathering together about us! “<i>Us!</i>” Aye, about <i>you</i>; but pray +think what tremendous dangers wheat at four shillings a bushel will +bring about <i>us</i>! This is the git. Here lies the whole of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> We laugh +at a Government employing itself in making calculations about the price +of corn, and in employing its press to put forth market puffs. We laugh +at these things; but we should not laugh, if we considered, that it is +on the price of wheat that the duration of the power and the profits of +these men depends. They know what they want; and they wish to believe +themselves, and to make others believe, that they shall have it. I have +observed before, but it is necessary to observe again, that all those +who are for the System, let them be Opposition or not Opposition, feel +as Whitehall feels about the price of corn. I have given an instance, in +the “tall soul;” but it is the same with the whole of them, with the +whole of those who do not wish to see this infernal System changed. I +was informed, and I believe it to be true, that the Marquis of Lansdowne +said, last April, when the great rise took place in the price of corn, +that he had always thought that the cash-measures had but little effect +on prices; but that he was now satisfied that those measures had no +effect at all on prices! Now, what is our situation; what is the +situation of this country, if we must have the present Ministry, or a +Ministry of which the Marquis of Lansdowne is to be a Member, if the +Marquis of Lansdowne did utter these words? And again, I say, that I +verily believe he did utter them.</p> + +<p>Ours is a Government that now seems to depend very much upon the +<i>weather</i>. The old type of a ship at sea will not do now, ours is a +weather Government; and to know the state of it, we must have recourse +to those glasses that the Jews carry about. Weather depends upon the +winds, in a great measure; and I have no scruple to say, that the +situation of those two Right Honourable youths, that are now gone to the +Lakes in the north; that their situation, next winter, will be rendered +very irksome, not to say perilous, by the present easterly wind, if it +should continue about fifteen days longer. Pitt, when he had just made a +monstrous issue of paper, and had, thereby, actually put the match which +blowed up the old She Devil in 1797—Pitt, at that time, congratulated +the nation, that the wisdom of Parliament had established a solid system +of finance. Anything but solid it assuredly was; but his system of +finance was as worthy of being called solid, as that system of +Government which now manifestly depends upon the weather and the winds.</p> + +<p>Since my return home (it is now Thursday, 11th September), I have +received letters from the east, from the north, and from the west. All +tell me that the harvest is very far advanced, and that the crops are +free from blight. These letters are not particular as to the weight of +the crop; except that they all say that the barley is excellent. The +wind is now coming from the east. There is every appearance of the fine +weather <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>continuing. Before Christmas, we shall have the wheat down to +what will be a fair average price in future. I always said that the late +rise was a mere puff. It was, in part, a scarcity rise. The wheat of +1821 was grown and bad. That of 1822 had to be begun upon in July. The +crop has had to last thirteen months and a half. The present crop will +have to last only eleven months, or less. The crop of barley, last year, +was so very bad; so very small; and the crop of the year before so very +bad in quality that wheat was malted, last year, in great quantities, +instead of barley. This year, the crop of barley is prodigious. All +these things considered wheat, if the cash-measures had had no effect, +must have been a hundred and forty shillings a quarter, and barley +eighty. Yet the first never got to seventy, and the latter never got to +forty! And yet there was a man who calls himself a statesman to say that +that mere puff of a rise satisfied him that the cash-measures had never +had any effect! Ah! they are all <i>afraid</i> to believe in the effect of +those cash-measures: they tremble like children at the sight of the rod, +when you hold up before them the effect of those cash-measures. Their +only hope, is, that I am wrong in my opinions upon that subject; +because, if I am right, their System is condemned to speedy destruction!</p> + +<p>I thus conclude, for the present, my remarks relative to the harvest and +the price of corn. It is the great subject of the day; and the comfort +is, that we are now speedily to see whether I be right or whether the +Marquis of Lansdowne be right. As to the infamous London press, the +moment the wheat comes down to forty shillings; that is to say, an +average Government return of forty shillings, I will spend ten pounds in +placarding this infamous press, after the manner in which we used to +placard the base and detestable enemies of the <span class="smcap">Queen</span>. This infamous +press has been what is vulgarly called “running its rigs,” for several +months past. The <i>Quakers</i> have been urging it on, under-handed. They +have, I understand, been bribing it pretty deeply, in order to +calumniate me, and to favour their own monopoly, but, thank God, the +cunning knaves have outwitted themselves. They won’t play at cards; but +they will play at <i>Stocks</i>; they will play at Lottery Tickets, and they +will play at Mark-lane. They have played a silly game, this time. Saint +Swithin, that good old Roman Catholic Saint, seemed to have set a trap +for them: he went on, wet, wet, wet, even until the harvest began. Then, +after two or three days’ sunshine, shocking wet again. The ground +soaking, the wheat growing, and the “<i>Friends</i>;” the gentle Friends, +seeking the Spirit, were as busy amongst the sacks at Mark-lane as the +devil in a high wind. In short they bought away, with all the gain of +Godliness, <i>and a little more</i>, before their eyes. All of a sudden, +Saint Swithin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> took away his clouds; out came the sun; the wind got +round to the east; just sun enough and just wind enough; and as the +wheat ricks everywhere rose up, the long jaws of the Quakers dropped +down; and their faces of slate became of a darker hue. That sect will +certainly be punished, this year; and, let us hope, that such a change +will take place in their concerns as will compel a part of them to +labour, at any rate; for, at present, their sect is a perfect monster in +society; a whole sect, not one man of whom earns his living by the sweat +of his brow. A sect a great deal worse than the Jews; for some of them +do work. However, <span class="smcap">God</span> send us the easterly wind, for another fortnight, +and we shall certainly see some of this sect at work.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RURAL RIDE: FROM KENSINGTON, ACROSS SURREY, AND ALONG THAT COUNTY.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Reigate, Wednesday Evening,<br />19th October, 1825.</i></p> + +<p>Having some business at Hartswood, near Reigate, I intended to come off +this morning on horseback, along with my son Richard, but it rained so +furiously the last night, that we gave up the horse project for to-day, +being, by appointment, to be at Reigate by ten o’clock to-day: so that +we came off this morning at five o’clock, in a post-chaise, intending to +return home and take our horses. Finding, however, that we cannot quit +this place till Friday, we have now sent for our horses, though the +weather is dreadfully wet. But we are under a farmhouse roof, and the +wind may whistle and the rain fall as much as they like.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Reigate, Thursday Evening,<br />20th October.</i></p> + +<p>Having done my business at Hartswood to-day about eleven o’clock, I went +to a sale at a farm, which the farmer is quitting. Here I had a view of +what has long been going on all over the country. The farm, which +belongs to <i>Christ’s Hospital</i>, has been held by a man of the name of +Charington, in whose family the lease has been, I hear, a great number +of years. The house is hidden by trees. It stands in the Weald of +Surrey, close by the <i>River Mole</i>, which is here a mere rivulet, though +just below this house the rivulet supplies the very prettiest flour-mill +I ever saw in my life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>Everything about this farmhouse was formerly the scene of <i>plain +manners</i> and <i>plentiful living</i>. Oak clothes-chests, oak bedsteads, oak +chests of drawers, and oak tables to eat on, long, strong, and well +supplied with joint stools. Some of the things were many hundreds of +years old. But all appeared to be in a state of decay and nearly of +<i>disuse</i>. There appeared to have been hardly any <i>family</i> in that house, +where formerly there were, in all probability, from ten to fifteen men, +boys, and maids: and, which was the worst of all, there was a <i>parlour</i>. +Aye, and a <i>carpet</i> and <i>bell-pull</i> too! One end of the front of this +once plain and substantial house had been moulded into a “<i>parlour</i>;” +and there was the mahogany table, and the fine chairs, and the fine +glass, and all as bare-faced upstart as any stock-jobber in the kingdom +can boast of. And there were the decanters, the glasses, the +“dinner-set” of crockery-ware, and all just in the true stock-jobber +style. And I dare say it has been <i>’Squire</i> Charington and the <i>Miss</i> +Charington’s; and not plain Master Charington, and his son Hodge, and +his daughter Betty Charington, all of whom this accursed system has, in +all likelihood, transmuted into a species of mock gentlefolks, while it +has ground the labourers down into real slaves. Why do not farmers now +<i>feed</i> and <i>lodge</i> their work-people, as they did formerly? Because they +cannot keep them <i>upon so little</i> as they give them in wages. This is +the real cause of the change. There needs no more to prove that the lot +of the working classes has become worse than it formerly was. This fact +alone is quite sufficient to settle this point. All the world knows, +that a number of people, boarded in the same house, and at the same +table, can, with as good food, be boarded much cheaper than those +persons divided into twos, threes, or fours, can be boarded. This is a +well-known truth: therefore, if the farmer now shuts his pantry against +his labourers, and pays <ins class="correction" title="original: then">them</ins> wholly in money, is it not clear, that he +does it because he thereby gives them a living <i>cheaper</i> to him; that is +to say, a <i>worse</i> living than formerly? Mind, he has <i>a house</i> for them; +a kitchen for them to sit in, bed rooms for them to sleep in, tables, +and stools, and benches, of everlasting duration. All these he has: all +these <i>cost him nothing</i>; and yet so much does he gain by pinching them +in wages, that he lets all these things remain as of no use, rather than +feed labourers in the house. Judge, then, of the <i>change</i> that has taken +place in the condition of these labourers! And be astonished, if you +can, at the <i>pauperism</i> and the <i>crimes</i> that now disgrace this once +happy and moral England.</p> + +<p>The land produces, on an average, what it always produced; but there is +a new distribution of the produce. This ’Squire Charington’s father +used, I dare say, to sit at the head of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> oak-table along with his +men, say grace to them, and cut up the meat and the pudding. He might +take a cup of <i>strong beer</i> to himself, when they had none; but that was +pretty nearly all the difference in their manner of living. So that +<i>all</i> lived well. But the <i>’Squire</i> had many <i>wine-decanters</i> and +<i>wine-glasses</i> and “a <i>dinner set</i>” and a “<i>breakfast set</i>,” and +“<i>desert knives</i>:” and these evidently imply carryings on and a +consumption that must of necessity have greatly robbed the long oak +table if it had remained fully tenanted. That long table could not share +in the work of the decanters and the dinner set. Therefore, it became +almost untenanted; the labourers retreated to hovels, called cottages; +and, instead of board and lodging, they got money; so little of it as to +enable the employer to drink wine; but, then, that he might not reduce +them to <i>quite starvation</i>, they were enabled to come to him, in the +<i>king’s name</i>, and demand food <i>as paupers</i>. And, now, mind, that which +a man receives in the <i>king’s name</i>, he knows well he has <i>by force</i>; +and it is not in nature that he should <i>thank</i> anybody for it, and least +of all the party <i>from whom it is forced</i>. Then, if this sort of force +be insufficient to obtain him enough to eat and to keep him warm, is it +surprising, if he think it no great offence against God (who created no +man to starve) to use another sort of <span class="smcaplc">FORCE</span> more within his own control? +Is it, in short, surprising, if he resort to <i>theft</i> and <i>robbery</i>?</p> + +<p>This is not only the <i>natural</i> progress, but it <i>has been</i> the progress +in England. The blame is not justly imputed to ’Squire Charington and +his like: the blame belongs to the infernal stock-jobbing system. There +was no reason to expect, that farmers would not endeavour to keep pace, +in point of show and luxury, with fund-holders, and with all the tribes +that <i>war</i> and <i>taxes</i> created. Farmers were not the authors of the +mischief; and <i>now</i> they are compelled to shut the labourers out of +their houses, and to pinch them in their wages in order to be able to +pay their own taxes; and, besides this, the manners and the principles +of the working class are so changed, that a sort of self-preservation +bids the farmer (especially in some counties) to keep them from beneath +his roof.</p> + +<p>I could not quit this farmhouse without reflecting on the thousands of +scores of bacon and thousands of bushels of bread that had been eaten +from the long oak-table which, I said to myself, is now perhaps, going +at last, to the bottom of a bridge that some stock-jobber will stick up +over an artificial river in his cockney garden. “<i>By —— it shan’t</i>,” +said I, almost in a real passion: and so I requested a friend to buy it +for me; and if he do so, I will take it to Kensington, or to +Fleet-street, and keep it for the good it has done in the world.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>When the old farmhouses are down (and down they must come in time) what +a miserable thing the country will be! Those that are now erected are +mere painted shells, with a Mistress within, who is stuck up in a place +she calls a <i>parlour</i>, with, if she have children, the “young ladies and +gentlemen” about her: some showy chairs and a sofa (a <i>sofa</i> by all +means): half a dozen prints in gilt frames hanging up: some swinging +book-shelves with novels and tracts upon them: a dinner brought in by a +girl that is perhaps better “educated” than she: two or three nick-nacks +to eat instead of a piece of bacon and a pudding: the house too neat for +a dirty-shoed carter to be allowed to come into; and everything +proclaiming to every sensible beholder, that there is here a constant +anxiety to make a <i>show</i> not warranted by the reality. The children +(which is the worst part of it) are all too clever to <i>work</i>: they are +all to be <i>gentlefolks</i>. Go to plough! Good God! What, “young gentlemen” +go to plough! They become <i>clerks</i>, or some skimmy-dish thing or other. +They flee from the dirty <i>work</i> as cunning horses do from the bridle. +What misery is all this! What a mass of materials for producing that +general and <i>dreadful convulsion</i> that must, first or last, come and +blow this funding and jobbing and enslaving and starving system to +atoms!</p> + +<p>I was going, to-day, by the side of a plat of ground, where there was a +very fine flock of <i>turkeys</i>. I stopped to admire them, and observed to +the owner how fine they were, when he answered, “We owe them entirely +<i>to you</i>, Sir, for we never raised one till we read your <i>Cottage +Economy</i>.” I then told him, that we had, this year, raised two broods at +Kensington, one black and one white, one of nine and one of eight; but, +that, about three weeks back, they appeared to become dull and pale +about the head; and, that, therefore, I sent them to a farmhouse, where +they recovered instantly, and the broods being such a contrast to each +other in point of colour, they were now, when prowling over a grass +field amongst the most agreeable sights that I had ever seen. I intended +of course, to let them get their full growth at Kensington, where they +were in a grass plat about fifteen yards square, and where I thought +that the feeding of them, in great abundance, with lettuces and other +greens from the garden, together with grain, would carry them on to +perfection. But I found that I was wrong; and that, though you may raise +them to a certain size, in a small place and with such management, they +then, if so much confined, begin to be sickly. Several of mine began +actually to droop: and, the very day they were sent into the country, +they became as gay as ever, and, in three days, all the colour about +their heads came back to them.</p> + +<p>This town of Reigate had, in former times, a Priory, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> had +considerable estates in the neighbourhood; and this is brought to my +recollection by a circumstance which has recently taken place in this +very town. We all know how long it has been the fashion for us to take +it for <i>granted</i>, that the monasteries were <i>bad things</i>; but, of late, +I have made some hundreds of thousands of very good Protestants begin to +suspect, that monasteries were better than <i>poor-rates</i>, and that monks +and nuns, who <i>fed the poor</i>, were better than sinecure and pension men +and women, who <i>feed upon the poor</i>. But, how came the monasteries! How +came this that was at Reigate, for instance? Why, it was, if I recollect +correctly, <i>founded by a Surrey gentleman</i>, who gave this spot and other +estates to it, and who, as was usual, provided that masses were to be +said in it for his soul and those of others, and that it should, as +usual, give aid to the poor and needy.</p> + +<p>Now, upon the face of the transaction, what <i>harm</i> could this do the +community? On the contrary, it must, one would think, do it <i>good</i>; for +here was this estate given to a set of landlords who never could quit +the spot; who could have no families; who could save no money; who could +hold no private property; who could make no will; who must spend all +their income at Reigate and near it; who as was the custom, fed the +poor, administered to the sick, and taught some, at least, of the +people, <i>gratis</i>. This, upon the face of the thing, seems to be a very +good way of disposing of a rich man’s estate.</p> + +<p>“Aye, but,” it is said, “he left his estate away from his relations.” +That is not <i>sure</i>, by any means. The contrary is fairly to be presumed. +Doubtless, it was the custom for Catholic Priests, before they took +their leave of a dying rich man, to advise him to think of the <i>Church +and the Poor</i>; that is to say to exhort him to bequeath something to +them; and this has been made a monstrous charge against that Church. It +is surprising how blind men are, when they have a mind to be blind; what +despicable dolts they are, when they desire to be cheated. We, of the +Church of England, must have a special deal of good sense and of +modesty, to be sure, to rail against the Catholic Church on this +account, when our Common Prayer Book, copied from an Act of Parliament, +<i>commands our Parsons to do just the same thing</i>!</p> + +<p>Ah! say the Dissenters, and particularly the Unitarians; that queer +sect, who will have all the wisdom in the world to themselves; who will +believe and won’t believe; who will be Christians and who won’t have a +<i>Christ</i>; who will laugh at you, if you believe in the Trinity, and who +would (if they could) boil you in oil if you do not believe in the +Resurrection: “Oh!” say the Dissenters, “we know very well, that your +<i>Church Parsons</i> are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> commanded to get, if they can, dying people to +give their money and estates to the Church and <i>the poor</i>, as they call +the concern, though the <i>poor</i>, we believe, come in for very little +which is got in this way. But what is <i>your Church</i>? We are the real +Christians; and we, upon our souls, never play such tricks; never, no +never, terrify old women out of their stockings full of guineas.” “And, +as to us,” say the Unitarians, “we, the most <i>liberal</i> creatures upon +earth; we, whose virtue is indignant at the tricks by which the Monks +and Nuns got legacies from dying people to the injury of heirs and other +relations; we, who are the really enlightened, the truly consistent, the +benevolent, the disinterested, the exclusive patentees of the <i>salt of +the earth</i>, which is sold only at, or by express permission from our old +and original warehouse and manufactory, Essex-street, in the Strand, +first street on the left, going from Temple Bar towards Charing Cross; +we defy you to show that Unitarian Parsons....”</p> + +<p>Stop your protestations and hear my Reigate anecdote, which, as I said +above, brought the recollection of the Old Priory into my head. The +readers of the Register heard me, several times, some years ago, mention +Mr. Baron Maseres, who was, for a great many years, what they call +Cursitor Baron of the Exchequer. He lived partly in London and partly at +Reigate, for more, I believe, than half a century; and he died, about +two years ago, or less, leaving, I am told, <i>more than a quarter of a +million of money</i>. The Baron came to see me, in Pall Mall, in 1800. He +always came frequently to see me, wherever I was in London; not by any +means omitting to <i>come to see me in Newgate</i>, where I was imprisoned +for two years, with a thousand pounds fine and seven years heavy bail, +for having expressed my indignation at the flogging of Englishmen, in +the heart of England, under a guard of German bayonets; and to Newgate +he always came in <i>his wig and gown</i>, in order, as he said, to show his +abhorrence of the sentence. I several times passed a week, or more, with +the Baron at his house, at Reigate, and might have passed many more, if +my time and taste would have permitted me to accept of his invitations. +Therefore, I knew the Baron well. He was a most conscientious man; he +was when I first knew him, still a very clever man; he retained all his +faculties to a very great age; in 1815, I think it was, I got a letter +from him, written in a firm hand, correctly as to grammar, and ably as +to matter, and he must then have been little short of ninety. He never +was a bright man; but had always been a very sensible, just and humane +man, and a man too who always cared a great deal for the public good; +and he was the only man that I ever heard of, who refused to have his +salary augmented, when an augmentation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> was offered, and when all other +such salaries were augmented. I had heard of this: I asked him about it +when I saw him again; and he said: “There was no <i>work</i> to be added, and +I saw no justice in adding to the salary. It must,” added he, “be <i>paid +by somebody</i>, and the more I take, the less that somebody must have.”</p> + +<p>He did not save money for money’s sake. He saved it because his habits +would not let him spend it. He kept a house in Rathbone Place, chambers +in the Temple, and his very pretty place at Reigate. He was by no means +stingy, but his scale and habits were cheap. Then, consider, too, a +bachelor of nearly a hundred years old. His father left him a fortune, +his brother (who also died a very old bachelor), left him another; and +the money lay in the funds, and it went on doubling itself over and over +again, till it became that immense mass which we have seen above, and +which, when the Baron was making his will, he had neither Catholic +priest nor Protestant parson to exhort him to leave to the church and +the poor, instead of his relations; though, as we shall presently see, +he had somebody else to whom to leave his great heap of money.</p> + +<p>The Baron was a most implacable enemy of the Catholics, as Catholics. +There was rather a peculiar reason for this, his grand-father having +been a <i>French Hugonot</i> and having fled with his children to England, at +the time of the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. The Baron was a very +humane man; his humanity made him assist to support the French emigrant +priests; but, at the same time, he caused Sir Richard Musgrave’s book +against the Irish Catholics to be published at his own expense. He and I +never agreed upon this subject; and this subject was, with him, a +<i>vital</i> one. He had no asperity in his nature; he was naturally all +gentleness and benevolence; and, therefore, he never <i>resented</i> what I +said to him on this subject (and which nobody else ever, I believe, +ventured to say to him): but he did not like it; and he liked it less +because I certainly beat him in the argument. However, this was long +before he visited me in Newgate: and it never produced (though the +dispute was frequently revived) any difference in his conduct towards +me, which was uniformly friendly to the last time I saw him before his +memory was gone.</p> + +<p>There was great excuse for the Baron. From his very birth he had been +taught to hate and abhor the Catholic religion. He had been told, that +his father and mother had been driven out of France by the Catholics: +and there was <i>that mother</i> dinning this in his ears, and all manner of +horrible stories along with it, during all the tender years of his life. +In short, the prejudice made part of his very frame. In the year 1803, +in August, I think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> it was, I had gone down to his house on a Friday, +and was there on a Sunday. After dinner he and I and his brother walked +to the Priory, as is still called the mansion house, in the dell at +Reigate, which is now occupied by Lord Eastnor, and in which a Mr. +Birket, I think, then lived. After coming away from the Priory, the +Baron (whose native place was Betchworth, about two or three miles from +Reigate) who knew the history of every house and every thing else in +this part of the country, began to tell me why the place was called <i>the +Priory</i>. From this he came to the <i>superstition</i> and <i>dark ignorance</i> +that induced people to found monasteries; and he dwelt particularly on +the <i>injustice to heirs and relations</i>; and he went on, in the usual +Protestant strain, and with all the bitterness of which he was capable, +against those <i>crafty priests</i>, who thus <i>plundered families</i> by means +of the influence which they had over people in their dotage, or who were +naturally weak-minded.</p> + +<p>Alas! poor Baron! he does not seem to have at all foreseen what was to +become of his own money! What would he have said to me, if I had +answered his observations by predicting, that <i>he</i> would give his great +mass of money to a little parson for that parson’s own private use; +leave only a mere pittance to his own relations; leave the little parson +his house in which we were then sitting (along with all his other real +property); that the little parson would come into the house and take +possession; and that his own relations (two nieces) would walk out! Yet, +all this has actually taken place, and that, too, after the poor old +Baron’s four score years of jokes about the tricks of <i>Popish</i> priests, +practised, in the <i>dark ages</i>, upon the <i>ignorant</i> and <i>superstitious</i> +people of Reigate.</p> + +<p>When I first knew the Baron he was a staunch <i>Church of England man</i>. He +went to church every Sunday once, at least. He used to take me to +Reigate church; and I observed, that he was very well versed in his +prayer book. But a decisive proof of his zeal as a Church of England man +is, that he settled an annual sum on the incumbent of Reigate, in order +to induce him to preach, or pray (I forget which), in the church, twice +on a Sunday, instead of once; and, in case this additional preaching, or +praying, were not performed in Reigate church, the annuity was to go +(and sometimes it does now go) to the poor of an adjoining parish, and +not to those of Reigate, lest I suppose, the parson, the overseers, and +other rate-payers, might happen to think that the Baron’s annuity would +be better laid out in food for the bodies than for the souls of the +poor; or, in other words, lest the money should be taken annually and +added to the poor-rates to ease the purses of the farmers.</p> + +<p>It did not, I dare say, occur to the poor Baron (when he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> making +this settlement), that he was now giving money to make a church parson +put up additional prayers, though he had, all his lifetime, been +laughing at those, who, in the <i>dark</i> ages, gave money, for this +purpose, to Catholic priests. Nor did it, I dare say, occur, to the +Baron, that, in his contingent settlement of the annuity on the poor of +an adjoining parish, he as good as declared his opinion, that he +distrusted the piety of the parson, the overseers, the churchwardens, +and, indeed, of all the people of Reigate: yes, at the very moment that +he was providing additional prayers for them, he in the very same +parchment, put a provision, which clearly showed that he was thoroughly +convinced that they, overseers, churchwardens, people, parson and all, +loved money better than prayers.</p> + +<p>What was this, then? Was it hypocrisy; was it ostentation? No: mistake. +The Baron thought that those who could not go to church in the morning +ought to have an opportunity of going in the afternoon. He was aware of +the power of money; but, when he came to make his obligatory clause, he +was compelled to do that which reflected great discredit on the very +church and religion, which it was his object to honour and uphold.</p> + +<p>However, the Baron <i>was</i> a staunch churchman as this fact clearly +proves: several years he had become what they call an <i>Unitarian</i>. The +first time (I think) that I perceived this, was in 1812. He came to see +me in Newgate, and he soon began to talk about <i>religion</i>, which had not +been much his habit. He went on at a great rate, laughing about the +Trinity; and I remember that he repeated the Unitarian distich, which +makes <i>a joke</i> of the idea of there being a devil, and which they all +repeat to you, and at the same time laugh and look as cunning and as +priggish as Jack-daws; just as if they were wiser than all the rest of +the world! I hate to hear the conceited and disgusting prigs, seeming to +take it for granted, that they only are wise, because others <i>believe</i> +in the incarnation, without being able to reconcile it to <i>reason</i>. The +prigs don’t consider, that there is no more <i>reason</i> for the +<i>resurrection</i> than for the <i>incarnation</i>; and yet having taken it into +their heads to <i>come up again</i>, they would murder you, if they dared, if +you were to deny the <i>resurrection</i>. I do most heartily despise this +priggish set for their conceit and impudence; but, seeing that they want +<i>reason</i> for the incarnation; seeing that they will have <i>effects</i>, +here, ascribed to none but <i>usual causes</i>, let me put a question or two +to them.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang">1. <i>Whence</i> comes the <i>white clover</i>, that comes up and covers all +the ground, in America, where hard-wood trees, after standing for +thousands of years, have been burnt down?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p class="hang">2. <i>Whence</i> come (in similar cases as to self-woods) the +hurtleberries in some places, and the raspberries in others?</p> + +<p class="hang">3. <i>Whence</i> come fish in new made places where no fish have ever been put?</p> + +<p class="hang">4. <i>What causes</i> horse-hair to become living things?</p> + +<p class="hang">5. <i>What causes</i> frogs to come in drops of rain, or those drops of +rain to turn to frogs, the moment they are on the earth?</p> + +<p class="hang">6. <i>What causes</i> musquitoes to come in rain water caught in a +glass, covered over immediately with oil paper, tied down and so +kept till full of these winged torments?</p> + +<p class="hang">7. <i>What causes</i> flounders, real little <i>flat fish</i>, brown on one +side, white on the other, mouth side-ways, with tail, fins, and +all, <i>leaping alive</i>, in the <i>inside</i> of a rotten sheep’s, and of +every rotten sheep’s, <i>liver</i>?</p></div> + +<p>There, prigs; answer these questions. Fifty might be given you; but +these are enough. Answer these. I suppose you will not deny the facts? +They are all notoriously true. The <i>last</i>, which of itself would be +quite enough for you, will be attested on oath, if you like it, by any +farmer, ploughman, and shepherd, in England. Answer this question 7, or +hold your conceited gabble about the “<i>impossibility</i>” of that which I +need not here name.</p> + +<p>Men of sense do not attempt to discover that which it is <i>impossible</i> to +discover. They leave things pretty much as they find them; and take +care, at least, not to make changes of any sort, without very evident +necessity. The poor Baron, however, appeared to be quite eaten up with +his “<i>rational</i> Christianity.” He talked like a man who has made a +<i>discovery</i> of his <i>own</i>. He seemed as pleased as I, when I was a boy, +used to be, when I had just found a rabbit’s stop, or a black-bird’s +nest full of young ones. I do not recollect what I said upon this +occasion. It is most likely that I said nothing in contradiction to him. +I saw the Baron many times after this, but I never talked with him about +religion.</p> + +<p>Before the summer of 1822, I had not seen him for a year or two, +perhaps. But, in July of that year, on a very hot day, I was going down +Rathbone Place, and, happening to cast my eye on the Baron’s house, I +knocked at the door to ask how he was. His man servant came to the door, +and told me that his master was at dinner. “Well,” said I, “never mind; +give my best respects to him.” But the servant (who had always been with +him since I knew him) begged me to come in, for that he was sure his +master would be glad to see me. I thought, as it was likely that I might +never see him again, I would go in. The servant announced me, and the +Baron said, “Beg him to walk in.” In I went, and there I found the Baron +at dinner; but <i>not quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> alone</i>; nor without <i>spiritual</i> as well as +carnal and vegetable nourishment before him: for, there, on the opposite +side of his <i>vis-à-vis</i> dining table, sat that nice, neat, straight, +prim piece of mortality, commonly called the Reverend Robert Fellowes, +who was the Chaplain to the unfortunate Queen until Mr. Alderman Wood’s +son came to supply his place, and who was now, I could clearly see, in a +fair way enough. I had dined, and so I let them dine on. The Baron was +become quite a child, or worse, as to mind, though he ate as heartily as +I ever saw him, and he was always a great eater. When his servant said, +“Here is Mr. Cobbett, Sir;” he said, “How do you do, Sir? I have read +much of your writings, Sir; but <i>never had the pleasure to see your +person before</i>.” After a time I made him recollect me; but he, directly +after, being about to relate something about America, turned towards me, +and said, “<i>Were you ever in America</i>, Sir?” But I must mention one +proof of the state of his mind. Mr. Fellowes asked me about the news +from Ireland, where the people were then in a state of starvation +(1822), and I answering that, it was likely that many of them would +actually be starved to death, the Baron, quitting his green goose and +green pease, turned to me and said, “<i>Starved</i>, Sir! Why don’t they go +to <i>the parish</i>?” “Why,” said I, “you know, Sir, that there are no +poor-rates in Ireland.” Upon this he exclaimed, “What! no poor-rates in +Ireland! Why not? I did not know that; I can’t think how that can be.” +And then he rambled on in a childish sort of way.</p> + +<p>At the end of about half an hour, or, it might be more, I shook hands +with the poor old Baron for the last time, well convinced that I should +never see him again, and not less convinced, that I had seen his <i>heir</i>. +He died in about a year or so afterwards, left to his own family about +20,000<i>l.</i>, and to his ghostly guide, the Holy Robert Fellowes, all the +rest of his immense fortune, which, as I have been told, amounts to more +than a quarter of a million of money.</p> + +<p>Now, the public will recollect that, while Mr. Fellowes was at the +Queen’s, he was, in the public papers, charged with being an +<i>Unitarian</i>, at the same time that he officiated <i>as her chaplain</i>. It +is also well known, that he never publicly contradicted this. It is, +besides, the general belief at Reigate. However, this we know well, that +he is a parson, of one sort or the other, and that he is not a Catholic +priest. That is enough for me. I see this poor, foolish old man leaving +a monstrous mass of money to this little Protestant parson, whom he had +not even known more, I believe, than about three or four years. When the +will was made I cannot say. I know nothing at all about that. I am +supposing that all was perfectly fair; that the Baron had his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> senses +when he made his will; that he clearly meant to do that which he did. +But, then, I must insist, that, if he had left the money to a <i>Catholic +priest</i>, to be by him expended on the endowment of a convent, wherein to +say masses and to feed and teach the poor, it would have been a more +sensible and public-spirited part in the Baron, much more beneficial to +the town and environs of Reigate, and beyond all measure more honourable +to his own memory.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Chilworth, Friday Evening,<br />21st Oct.</i></p> + +<p>It has been very fine to-day. Yesterday morning there was <i>snow</i> on +Reigate Hill, enough to look white from where we were in the valley. We +set off about half-past one o’clock, and came all down the valley, +through Buckland, Betchworth, Dorking, Sheer and Aldbury, to this place. +Very few prettier rides in England, and the weather beautifully fine. +There are more meeting-houses than churches in the vale, and I have +heard of no less than five people, in this vale, who have gone crazy on +account of religion.</p> + +<p>To-morrow we intend to move on towards the West; to take a look, just a +look, at the Hampshire Parsons again. The turnips seem fine; but they +cannot be large. All other things are very fine indeed. Everything seems +to prognosticate a hard winter. All the country people say that it will +be so.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RIDE: FROM CHILWORTH, IN SURREY, TO WINCHESTER.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursley, four miles from<br />Godalming, Surrey,<br />Sunday Evening, 23rd October, 1825.</i></p> + +<p>We set out from Chilworth to-day about noon. This is a little hamlet, +lying under the South side of St. Martha’s Hill; and, on the other side +of that hill, a little to the North West, is the town of Guilford, which +(taken with its environs) I, who have seen so many, many towns, think +the prettiest, and, taken, all together, the most agreeable and most +happy-looking, that I ever saw in my life. Here are hill and dell in +endless variety. Here are the chalk and the sand, vieing with each other +in making beautiful scenes. Here is a navigable river and fine meadows. +Here are woods and downs. Here is something of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>everything but <i>fat +marshes</i> and their skeleton-making <i>agues</i>. The vale, all the way down +to Chilworth from Reigate, is very delightful.</p> + +<p>We did not go to Guildford, nor did we cross the <i>River Wey</i>, to come +through Godalming; but bore away to our left, and came through the +village of Hambleton, going first to Hascomb, to show Richard the South +Downs from that high land, which looks Southward over the <i>Wealds</i> of +Surrey and Sussex, with all their fine and innumerable oak trees. Those +that travel on turnpike roads know nothing of England.—From Hascomb to +Thursley almost the whole way is across fields, or commons, or along +narrow lands. Here we see the people without any disguise or +affectation. Against a <i>great road</i> things are made for <i>show</i>. Here we +see them <i>without any show</i>. And here we gain real knowledge as to their +situation.—We crossed to-day, three turnpike roads, that from Guildford +to Horsham, that from Godalming to Worthing, I believe, and that from +Godalming to Chichester.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursley, Wednesday, 26th Oct.</i></p> + +<p>The weather has been beautiful ever since last Thursday morning; but +there has been a white frost every morning, and the days have been +coldish. <i>Here</i>, however, I am quite at home in a room, where there is +one of my <i>American Fire Places</i>, bought, by my host, of Mr. Judson of +Kensington, who has made many a score of families comfortable, instead +of sitting shivering in the cold. At the house of the gentleman, whose +house I am now in, there is a good deal of <i>fuel-wood</i>; and here I see +in the parlours, those fine and cheerful fires that make a great part of +the happiness of the Americans. But these fires are to be had only in +this sort of fire-place. Ten times the fuel; nay, no quantity, would +effect the same object, in any other fire-place. It is equally good for +coal as for wood; but, for <i>pleasure</i>, a wood-fire is the thing. There +is, round about almost every gentleman’s or great farmer’s house, more +wood suffered to rot every year, in one shape or another, than would +make (with this fire-place) a couple of rooms constantly warm, from +October to June. <i>Here</i>, peat, turf, saw-dust, and wood, are burnt in +these fire-places. My present host has three of the fire-places.</p> + +<p>Being out a-coursing to-day, I saw a queer-looking building upon one of +the thousands of hills that nature has tossed up in endless variety of +form round the skirts of the lofty Hindhead. This building is, it seems, +called a <i>Semaphore</i>, or <i>Semiphare</i>, or something of that sort. What +this word may have been hatched out of I cannot say; but it means <i>a +job</i>, I am sure. To call it an <i>alarm-post</i> would not have been so +convenient; for people not endued with Scotch <i>intellect</i> might have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +wondered why the devil we should have to pay for alarm-posts; and might +have thought, that, with all our “glorious victories,” we had “brought +our hogs to a fine market,” if our dread of the enemy were such as to +induce us to have alarm-posts all over the country! Such unintellectual +people might have thought that we had “conquered France by the immortal +Wellington,” to little purpose, if we were still in such fear as to +build alarm-posts; and they might, in addition, have observed, that, for +many hundred of years, England stood in need of neither signal posts nor +standing army of mercenaries; but relied safely on the courage and +public spirit of the people themselves. By calling the thing by an +outlandish name, these reflections amongst the unintellectual are +obviated. <i>Alarm-post</i> would be a nasty name; and it would puzzle people +exceedingly, when they saw one of these at a place like Ashe, a little +village on the north side of the chalk-ridge (called the Hog’s Back) +going from Guildford to Farnham. What can this be <i>for</i>? Why are these +expensive things put up all over the country? Respecting the movements +of <i>whom</i> is wanted this <i>alarm-system</i>? Will no member ask this in +Parliament? Not one: not a man: and yet it is a thing to ask about. Ah! +it is in vain, <span class="smcap">Thing</span>, that you thus are <i>making your preparations</i>; in +vain that you are setting your trammels! The <span class="smcaplc">DEBT</span>, the blessed debt, +that best ally of the people, will break them all; will snap them, as +the hornet does the cobweb; and, even these very “Semaphores,” +contribute towards the force of that ever-blessed debt. Curious to see +how things <i>work</i>! The “glorious revolution,” which was made for the +avowed purpose of maintaining the Protestant ascendancy, and which was +followed by such terrible persecution of the Catholics; that “glorious” +affair, which set aside a race of kings, because they were Catholics, +served as the <i>precedent</i> for the American revolution, also called +“glorious,” and this second revolution compelled the successors of the +makers of the first, to begin to cease their persecutions of the +Catholics! Then, again, the debt was made to raise and keep armies on +foot to prevent reform of Parliament, because, as it was feared by the +Aristocracy, reform would have humbled them; and this debt, created for +this purpose, is fast sweeping the Aristocracy out of their estates, as +a clown, with his foot, kicks field-mice out of their nests. There was a +hope, that the debt could have been reduced by stealth, as it were; that +the Aristocracy could have been saved in this way. That hope now no +longer exists. In all likelihood the funds will keep going down. What is +to prevent this, if the interest of Exchequer Bills be raised, as the +broad sheet tells us it is to be? What! the funds fall in time of peace; +and the French funds not fall, in time of peace!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> However, it will all +happen just as it ought to happen. Even the next session of Parliament +will bring out matters of some interest. The thing is now working in the +surest possible way.</p> + +<p>The great business of life, in the country, appertains, in some way or +other, to the <i>game</i>, and especially at this time of the year. If it +were not for the game, a country life would be like an <i>everlasting +honey-moon</i>, which would, in about half a century, put an end to the +human race. In towns, or large villages, people make a shift to find the +means of rubbing the rust off from each other by a vast variety of +sources of contest. A couple of wives meeting in the street, and giving +each other a wry look, or a look not quite civil enough, will, if the +parties be hard pushed for a ground of contention, do pretty well. But +in the country, there is, alas! no such resource. Here are no walls for +people to take of each other. Here they are so placed as to prevent the +possibility of such lucky local contact. Here is more than room of every +sort, elbow, leg, horse, or carriage, for them all. Even <i>at Church</i> +(most of the people being in the meeting-houses) the pews are +surprisingly too large. Here, therefore, where all circumstances seem +calculated to cause never-ceasing concord with its accompanying +dullness, there would be no relief at all, were it not for the <i>game</i>. +This, happily, supplies the place of all other sources of alternate +dispute and reconciliation; it keeps all in life and motion, from the +lord down to the hedger. When I see two men, whether in a market-room, +by the way-side, in a parlour, in a church-yard, or even in the church +itself, engaged in manifestly deep and most momentous discourse, I will, +if it be any time between September and February, bet ten to one, that +it is, in some way or other, about <i>the game</i>. The wives and daughters +hear so much of it, that they inevitably get engaged in the disputes; +and thus all are kept in a state of vivid animation. I should like very +much to be able to take a spot, a circle of 12 miles in diameter, and +take an exact account of all the <i>time</i> spent by each individual, above +the age of ten (that is the age they begin at), in talking, during the +game season of one year, about the game and about sporting exploits. I +verily believe that it would amount, upon an average, to six times as +much as all the other talk put together; and, as to the anger, the +satisfaction, the scolding, the commendation, the chagrin, the +exultation, the envy, the emulation, where are there any of these in the +country, unconnected with <i>the game</i>?</p> + +<p>There is, however, an important distinction to be made between <i>hunters</i> +(including coursers) and <i>shooters</i>. The latter are, as far as relates +to their exploits, a disagreeable class, compared with the former; and +the reason of this is, their doings are almost wholly their own; while, +in the case of the others, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> achievements are the property of the +dogs. Nobody likes to hear another talk <i>much</i> in praise of his own +acts, unless those acts have a manifest tendency to produce some good to +the hearer; and shooters do talk <i>much</i> of their own exploits, and those +exploits rather tend to <i>humiliate</i> the hearer. Then, a <i>great shooter</i> +will, nine times out of ten, go so far as almost to <i>lie a little</i>; and, +though people do not tell him of it, they do not like him the better for +it; and he but too frequently discovers that they do not believe him: +whereas, hunters are mere followers of the dogs, as mere spectators; +their praises, if any are called for, are bestowed on the greyhounds, +the hounds, the fox, the hare, or the horses. There is a little +rivalship in the riding, or in the behaviour of the horses; but this has +so little to do with the personal merit of the sportsmen, that it never +produces a want of good fellowship in the evening of the day. A shooter +who has been <i>missing</i> all day, must have an uncommon share of good +sense, not to feel mortified while the slaughterers are relating the +adventures of that day; and this is what cannot exist in the case of the +hunters. Bring me into a room, with a dozen men in it, who have been +sporting all day; or, rather let me be in an adjoining room, where I can +hear the sound of their voices, without being able to distinguish the +words, and I will bet ten to one that I tell whether they be hunters or +shooters.</p> + +<p>I was once acquainted with a <i>famous shooter</i> whose name was William +Ewing. He was a barrister of Philadelphia, but became far more renowned +by his gun than by his law cases. We spent scores of days together +a-shooting, and were extremely well matched, I having excellent dogs and +caring little about my reputation as a shot, his dogs being good for +nothing, and he caring more about his reputation as a shot than as a +lawyer. The fact which I am going to relate respecting this gentleman, +ought to be a warning to young men, how they become enamoured of this +species of vanity. We had gone about ten miles from our home, to shoot +where partridges were said to be very plentiful. We found them so. In +the course of a November day, he had, just before dark, shot, and sent +to the farmhouse, or kept in his bag, <i>ninety-nine</i> partridges. He made +some few <i>double shots</i>, and he might have a <i>miss</i> or two, for he +sometimes shot when out of my sight, on account of the woods. However, +he said that he killed at every shot; and, as he had counted the birds, +when we went to dinner at the farmhouse and when he cleaned his gun, he, +just before sun-set, knew that he had killed <i>ninety-nine</i> partridges, +every one upon the wing, and a great part of them in woods very thickly +set with largish trees. It was a grand achievement; but, unfortunately, +he wanted to make it <i>a hundred</i>. The sun was setting, and, in that +country, darkness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> comes almost at once; it is more like the going out +of a candle than that of a fire; and I wanted to be off, as we had a +very bad road to go, and as he, being under strict petticoat government, +to which he most loyally and dutifully submitted, was compelled to get +home that night, taking me with him, the vehicle (horse and gig) being +mine. I, therefore, pressed him to come away, and moved on myself +towards the house (that of old John Brown, in Bucks county, grandfather +of that General Brown, who gave some of our whiskered heroes such a +rough handling last war, which was waged for the purpose of “deposing +James Madison”), at which house I would have stayed all night, but from +which I was compelled to go by that watchful government, under which he +had the good fortune to live. Therefore I was in haste to be off. No: he +would kill the <i>hundredth</i> bird! In vain did I talk of the bad road and +its many dangers for want of moon. The poor partridges, which we had +scattered about, were <i>calling</i> all around us; and, just at this moment, +up got one under his feet, in a field in which the wheat was three or +four inches high. He shot and <i>missed</i>. “That’s it,” said he, running as +if to <i>pick up</i> the bird. “What!” said I, “you don’t think you <i>killed</i>, +do you? Why there is the bird now, not only alive, but <i>calling</i> in that +wood;” which was at about a hundred yards distance. He, in that <i>form of +words</i> usually employed in such cases, asserted that he shot the bird +and saw it fall; and I, in much about the same form of words, asserted, +that he had <i>missed</i>, and that I, with my own eyes, saw the bird fly +into the wood. This was too much! To <i>miss</i> once out of a hundred times! +To lose such a chance of immortality! He was a good-humoured man; I +liked him very much; and I could not help feeling for him, when he said, +“Well, <i>Sir</i>, I killed the bird; and if you choose to go away and take +your dog away, so as to prevent me from <i>finding</i> it, you must do it; +the dog is <i>yours</i>, to be sure.” “The <i>dog</i>,” said I, in a very mild +tone, “why, Ewing, there is the spot; and could we not see it, upon this +smooth green surface, if it were there?” However, he began to <i>look +about</i>; and I called the dog, and affected to join him in the search. +Pity for his weakness got the better of my dread of the bad road. After +walking backward and forward many times upon about twenty yards square +with our eyes to the ground, looking for what both of us knew was not +there, I had passed him (he going one way and I the other), and I +happened to be turning round just after I had passed him, when I saw +him, putting his hand behind him, <i>take a partridge out of his bag and +let it fall upon the ground</i>! I felt no temptation to detect him, but +turned away my head, and kept looking about. Presently he, having +returned to the spot where the bird was, called out to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> me, in a most +triumphant tone; “<i>Here! here!</i> Come here!” I went up to him, and he, +pointing with his finger down to the bird, and looking hard in my face +at the same time, said, “There, Cobbett; I hope that will be a <i>warning</i> +to you never to be obstinate again”! “Well,” said I, “come along:” and +away we went as merry as larks. When we got to Brown’s, he told them the +story, triumphed over me most clamorously; and, though he often repeated +the story to my face, I never had the heart to let him know, that I knew +of the imposition, which puerile vanity had induced so sensible and +honourable a man to be mean enough to practise.</p> + +<p>A <i>professed shot</i> is, almost always, a very disagreeable brother +sportsman. He must, in the first place, have a head rather of the +emptiest to <i>pride himself</i> upon so poor a talent. Then he is always out +of temper, if the game fail, or if he miss it. He never participates in +that great delight which all sensible men enjoy at beholding the +beautiful action, the docility, the zeal, the wonderful sagacity of the +pointer and the setter. He is always thinking about <i>himself</i>; always +anxious to surpass his companions. I remember that, once, Ewing and I +had lost our dog. We were in a wood, and the dog had gone out, and found +a covey in a wheat stubble joining the wood. We had been whistling and +calling him for, perhaps, half an hour, or more. When we came out of the +wood we saw him pointing, with one foot up; and, soon after, he, keeping +his foot and body unmoved, gently turned round his head towards the spot +where he heard us, as if to bid us come on, and, when he saw that we saw +him, turned his head back again. I was so delighted, that I stopped to +look with admiration. Ewing, astonished at my want of alacrity, pushed +on, shot one of the partridges, and thought no more about the conduct of +the dog than if the sagacious creature had had nothing at all to do with +the matter. When I left America, in 1800, I gave this dog to Lord Henry +Stuart, who was, when he came home, a year or two afterwards, about to +bring him to astonish the sportsmen even in England; but those of +Pennsylvania were resolved not to part with him, and, therefore they +<i>stole</i> him the night before his Lordship came away. Lord Henry had +plenty of pointers after his return, and he <i>saw</i> hundreds; but always +declared, that he never saw any thing approaching in excellence this +American dog. For the information of sportsmen I ought to say, that this +was a small-headed and sharp-nosed pointer, hair as fine as that of a +greyhound, little and short ears, very light in the body, very long +legged, and swift as a good lurcher. I had him a puppy, and he never had +any <i>breaking</i>, but he pointed staunchly at once; and I am of opinion, +that this sort is, in all respects, better than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> heavy breed. Mr. +Thornton, (I beg his pardon, I believe he is now a Knight of some sort) +who was, and perhaps still is, our Envoy in Portugal, at the time here +referred to was a sort of partner with Lord Henry in this famous dog; +and gratitude (to the memory of <i>the dog</i> I mean), will, I am sure, or, +at least, I hope so, make him bear witness to the truth of my character +of him; and, if one could hear an Ambassador <i>speak out</i>, I think that +Mr. Thornton would acknowledge, that his calling has brought him in +pretty close contact with many a man who was possessed of most +tremendous political power, without possessing half the sagacity, half +the understanding, of this dog, and without being a thousandth part so +faithful to his trust.</p> + +<p>I am quite satisfied, that there are as many <i>sorts</i> of men as there are +of dogs. Swift was a man, and so is Walter the base. But is the <i>sort</i> +the same? It cannot be <i>education</i> alone that makes the amazing +difference that we see. Besides, we see men of the very same rank and +riches and education, differing as widely as the pointer does from the +pug. The name, <i>man</i>, is common to all the sorts, and hence arises very +great mischief. What confusion must there be in rural affairs, if there +were no names whereby to distinguish hounds, greyhounds, pointers, +spaniels, terriers, and sheep dogs, from each other! And, what pretty +work, if, without regard to the <i>sorts</i> of dogs, men were to attempt to +<i>employ them</i>! Yet, this is done in the case of <i>men</i>! A man is always +<i>a man</i>; and, without the least regard as to the <i>sort</i>, they are +promiscuously placed in all kinds of situations. Now, if Mr. Brougham, +Doctors Birkbeck, Macculloch and Black, and that profound personage, +Lord John Russell, will, in their forth-coming “London University,” +teach us how to divide men <i>into sorts</i>, instead of teaching us to +“augment the capital of the nation,” by making paper-money, they will +render us a real service. That will be <i>feelosofy</i> worth attending to. +What would be said of the ’Squire who should take a fox-hound out to +find partridges for him to shoot at? Yet, would this be <i>more</i> absurd +than to set a man to law-making who was manifestly formed for the +express purpose of sweeping the streets or digging out sewers?</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Farnham, Surrey,<br />Thursday, Oct. 27th.</i></p> + +<p>We came over the heath from Thursley, this morning, on our way to +Winchester. Mr. Wyndham’s fox-hounds are coming to Thursley on Saturday. +More than three-fourths of all the interesting talk in that +neighbourhood, for some days past, has been about this +anxiously-looked-for event. I have seen no man, or boy, who did not talk +about it. There had been a false<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> report about it; the hounds did <i>not +come</i>; and the anger of the disappointed people was very great. At last, +however, the <i>authentic</i> intelligence came, and I left them all as happy +as if all were young and all just going to be married. An abatement of +my pleasure, however, on this joyous occasion was, that I brought away +with me <i>one</i>, who was as eager as the best of them. Richard, though now +only 11 years and 6 months old, had, it seems, one fox-hunt, in +Herefordshire, last winter; and he actually has begun to talk rather +<i>contemptuously</i> of hare hunting. To show me that he is in no <i>danger</i>, +he has been leaping his horse over banks and ditches by the road side, +all our way across the country from Reigate; and he joined with such +glee in talking of the expected arrival of the fox-hounds, that I felt +some little pain at bringing him away. My engagement at Winchester is +for Saturday; but, if it had not been so, the deep and hidden ruts in +the heath, in a wood in the midst of which the hounds are sure to find, +and the immense concourse of horsemen that is sure to be assembled, +would have made me bring him away. Upon the high, hard and open +countries, I should not be afraid for him; but here the danger would +have been greater than it would have been right for me to suffer him to +run.</p> + +<p>We came hither by the way of Waverley Abbey and Moore Park. On the +commons I showed Richard some of my old hunting scenes, when I was of +his age, or younger, reminding him that I was obliged to hunt on foot. +We got leave to go and see the grounds at Waverley, where all the old +monks’ garden walls are totally gone, and where the spot is become a +sort of lawn. I showed him the spot where the strawberry garden was, and +where I, when sent to gather <i>hautboys</i>, used to eat every remarkably +fine one, instead of letting it go to be eaten by Sir Robert Rich. I +showed him a tree, close by the ruins of the Abbey, from a limb of which +I once fell into the river, in an attempt to take the nest of a <i>crow</i>, +which had artfully placed it upon a branch so far from the trunk as not +to be able to bear the weight of a boy eight years old. I showed him an +old elm tree, which was hollow even then, into which I, when a very +little boy, once saw a cat go, that was as big as a middle-sized spaniel +dog, for relating which I got a great scolding, for standing to which I, +at last, got a beating; but stand to which I still did. I have since +many times repeated it; and I would take my oath of it to this day. When +in New Brunswick I saw the great wild grey cat, which is there called a +<i>Lucifee</i>; and it seemed to me to be just such a cat as I had seen at +Waverley. I found the ruins not very greatly diminished; but it is +strange how small the mansion, and ground, and everything but the trees, +appeared to me. They were all great to my mind when I saw them last; and +that early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> impression had remained, whenever I had talked or thought, +of the spot; so that, when I came to see them again, after seeing the +sea and so many other immense things, it seemed as if they had all been +made small. This was not the case with regard to the trees, which are +nearly as big here as they are anywhere else; and the old cat-elm, for +instance, which Richard measured with his whip, is about 16 or 17 feet +round.</p> + +<p>From Waverley we went to Moore Park, once the seat of Sir William +Temple, and when I was a very little boy, the seat of a Lady, or a Mrs. +Temple. Here I showed Richard Mother Ludlum’s Hole; but, alas! it is not +the enchanting place that I knew it, nor that which Grose describes in +his Antiquities! The semicircular paling is gone; the basins, to catch +the never-ceasing little stream, are gone; the iron cups, fastened by +chains, for people to drink out of, are gone; the pavement all broken to +pieces; the seats, for people to sit on, on both sides of the cave, torn +up and gone; the stream that ran down a clean paved channel, now making +a dirty gutter; and the ground opposite, which was a grove, chiefly of +laurels, intersected by closely mowed grass-walks, now become a poor, +ragged-looking alder-coppice. Near the mansion, I showed Richard the +hill, upon which Dean Swift tells us he used to run for exercise, while +he was pursuing his studies here; and I would have showed him the +garden-seat, under which Sir William Temple’s heart was buried, +agreeably to his will; but the seat was gone, also the wall at the back +of it; and the exquisitely beautiful little lawn in which the seat +stood, was turned into a parcel of divers-shaped cockney-clumps, planted +according to the strictest rules of artificial and refined vulgarity.</p> + +<p>At Waverley, Mr. Thompson, a merchant of some sort, has succeeded (after +the monks) the Orby Hunters and Sir Robert Rich. At Moore Park, a Mr. +Laing, a West Indian planter or merchant, has succeeded the Temples; and +at the castle of Farnham, which you see from Moore Park, Bishop +Prettyman Tomline has, at last, after perfectly regular and due +gradations, succeeded William of Wykham! In coming up from Moore Park to +Farnham town, I stopped opposite the door of a little old house, where +there appeared to be a great parcel of children. “There, Dick,” said I, +“when I was just such a little creature as that, whom you see in the +door-way, I lived in this very house with my grand-mother Cobbett.” He +pulled up his horse, and looked <i>very hard at it</i>, but said nothing, and +on we came.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Winchester,<br />Sunday noon, Oct. 30.</i></p> + +<p>We came away from Farnham about noon on Friday, promising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> Bishop +Prettyman to notice him and his way of living more fully on our return. +At Alton we got some bread and cheese at a friend’s, and then came to +Alresford by Medstead, in order to have fine turf to ride on, and to +see, on this lofty land that which is, perhaps, the finest <i>beech-wood</i> +in all England. These high down-countries are not garden plats, like +Kent; but they have, from my first seeing them, when I was about <i>ten</i>, +always been my delight. Large sweeping downs, and deep dells here and +there, with villages amongst lofty trees, are my great delight. When we +got to Alresford it was nearly dark, and not being able to find a room +to our liking, we resolved to go, though in the dark, to Easton, a +village about six miles from Alresford down by the side of the Hichen +River.</p> + +<p>Coming from Easton yesterday, I learned that Sir Charles Ogle, the +eldest son and successor of Sir Chaloner Ogle, had sold to some +<i>General</i>, his mansion and estate at Martyr’s Worthy, a village on the +North side of the Hichen, just opposite Easton. The Ogles had been here +for <i>a couple of centuries</i> perhaps. They are <i>gone off now</i>, “for good +and all,” as the country people call it. Well, what I have to say to Sir +Charles Ogle upon this occasion is this: “It was <i>you</i>, who moved at the +county meeting, in 1817, that <i>Address to the Regent</i>, which you brought +ready engrossed upon parchment, which Fleming, the Sheriff, declared to +have been carried, though a word of it never was heard by the meeting; +which address <i>applauded the power of imprisonment bill, just then +passed</i>; and the like of which address, you will not in all human +probability, ever again move in Hampshire, and, I hope, nowhere else. +So, you see, Sir Charles, there is one consolation, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>I learned, too, that Greame, a famously loyal ’squire and justice, whose +son was, a few years ago, made a Distributor of Stamps in this county, +was become so modest as to exchange his big and ancient mansion at +Cheriton, or somewhere there, for a very moderate-sized house in the +town of Alresford! I saw his household goods advertised in the Hampshire +newspaper, a little while ago, to be sold by public auction. I rubbed my +eyes, or, rather, my spectacles, and looked again and again; for I +remembered the loyal ’Squire; and I, with singular satisfaction, record +this change in his scale of existence, which has, no doubt, proceeded +solely from that prevalence of mind over matter, which the Scotch +<i>feelosofers</i> have taken such pains to inculcate, and which makes him +flee from greatness as from that which diminishes the quantity of +“<i>intellectual</i> enjoyment;” and so now he,</p> + +<p class="poem">“Wondering man can want the larger pile,<br /> +Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>And they really tell me, that his present house is not much bigger than +that of my dear, good old grandmother Cobbett. But (and it may not be +wholly useless for the ’Squire to know it) she never burnt <i>candles</i>; +but <i>rushes</i> dipped in grease, as I have described them in my <i>Cottage +Economy</i>; and this was one of the means that she made use of in order to +secure a bit of good bacon and good bread to eat, and that made her +never give me <i>potatoes</i>, cold or hot. No bad hint for the ’Squire, +father of the distributor of Stamps. Good bacon is a very nice thing, I +can assure him; and, if the quantity be small, it is all the sweeter; +provided, however, it be not <i>too small</i>. This ’Squire used to be a +great friend of Old George Rose. But his patron’s taste was different +from his. George preferred a big house to a little one; and George +<i>began</i> with a little one, and <i>ended</i> with a big one.</p> + +<p>Just by Alresford, there was another old friend and supporter of Old +George Rose, ’Squire Rawlinson, whom I remember a very great ’squire in +this county. He is now a <i>Police</i>-’squire in London, and is one of those +guardians of the Wen, respecting whose proceedings we read eternal +columns in the broad-sheet.</p> + +<p>This being Sunday, I heard, about 7 o’clock in the morning, a sort of a +jangling, made by a bell or two in the <i>Cathedral</i>. We were getting +ready to be off, to cross the country to Burghclere, which lies under +the lofty hills at Highclere, about 22 miles from this city; but hearing +the bells of the cathedral, I took Richard to show him that ancient and +most magnificent pile, and particularly to show him the tomb of that +famous bishop of Winchester, William of Wykham; who was the Chancellor +and the Minister of the great and glorious King, Edward III.; who sprang +from poor parents in the little village of Wykham, three miles from +Botley; and who, amongst other great and most munificent deeds, founded +the famous College, or School, of Winchester, and also one of the +Colleges at Oxford. I told Richard about this as we went from the inn +down to the cathedral; and, when I <i>showed him the tomb</i>, where the +bishop lies on his back, in his Catholic robes, with his mitre on his +head, his shepherd’s crook by his side, with little children at his +feet, their hands put together in a praying attitude, he looked with a +degree of inquisitive earnestness that pleased me very much. I took him +as far as I could about the cathedral. The “service” was now begun. +There is a <i>dean</i>, and God knows how many <i>prebends</i> belonging to this +immensely rich bishopric and chapter; and there were, at this “service,” +<i>two or three men and five or six boys</i> in white surplices, with a +congregation of <i>fifteen women</i> and <i>four men</i>! Gracious God! If William +of Wykham could, at that moment, have been raised from his tomb! If +Saint Swithin, whose name the cathedral bears, or Alfred the Great, to +whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> St. Swithin was tutor: if either of these could have come, and had +been told, that <i>that</i> was <i>now</i> what was carried on by men, who talked +of the “<i>damnable</i> errors” of those who founded that very church! But it +beggars one’s feelings to attempt to find words whereby to express them +upon such a subject and such an occasion. How, then, am I to describe +what I felt, when I yesterday saw in Hyde Meadow, a <i>county bridewell</i>, +standing on the very spot, where stood the Abbey which was founded and +endowed by Alfred, which contained the bones of that maker of the +English name, and also those of the learned monk, St. Grimbald, whom +Alfred brought to England <i>to begin the teaching at Oxford</i>!</p> + +<p>After we came out of the cathedral, Richard said, “Why, Papa, nobody can +build such places <i>now</i>, can they?” “No, my dear,” said I. “That +building was made when there were no poor wretches in England, called +<i>paupers</i>; when there were no <i>poor-rates</i>; when every labouring man was +clothed in good woollen cloth; and when all had a plenty of meat and +bread and beer.” This talk lasted us to the inn, where, just as we were +going to set off, it most curiously happened, that a parcel which had +come from Kensington by the night coach, was put into my hands by the +landlord, containing, amongst other things, a pamphlet, sent to me from +Rome, being an Italian translation of No. I. of the “<i>Protestant +Reformation</i>.” I will here insert the title for the satisfaction of +Doctor Black, who, some time ago, expressed his utter astonishment, that +“<i>such</i> a work should be published in the <i>nineteenth</i> century.” Why, +Doctor? Did you want me to stop till the <i>twentieth</i> century? That would +have been a little too long, Doctor.</p> + +<p class="center">Storia<br /> +Della<br /> +Riforma Protestante<br /> +In Inghilterra ed in Irlanda<br /> +La quale Dimostra<br /> +Come un tal’ avvenimento ha impoverito<br /> +E degradato il grosso del popolo in que’ paesi<br /> +in una serie di lettere indirizzate<br /> +A tutti i sensati e guisti inglesi<br /> +Da<br /> +Guglielmo Cobbett<br /> +E<br /> +Dall’ inglese recate in italiano<br /> +Da<br /> +Dominico Gregorj.<br /> +Roma 1825.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>Presso Francesco Bourlie.<br /> +Con Approvazione.</p> + +<p>There, Doctor Black. Write <i>you</i> a book that shall be translated into +<i>any</i> foreign language; and when you have done that, you may <i>again</i> +call mine “pig’s meat.”</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RURAL RIDE: FROM WINCHESTER TO BURGHCLERE.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere, Monday Morning,<br />31st October 1825.</i></p> + +<p>We had, or I had, resolved not to breakfast at Winchester yesterday: and +yet we were detained till nearly noon. But at last off we came, +<i>fasting</i>. The turnpike-road from Winchester to this place comes through +a village called Sutton Scotney, and then through Whitchurch, which lies +on the Andover and London road, through Basingstoke. We did not take the +cross-turnpike till we came to Whitchurch. We went to King’s Worthy; +that is about two miles on the road from Winchester to London; and then, +turning short to our left, came up upon the downs to the north of +Winchester race-course. Here, looking back at the city and at the fine +valley above and below it, and at the many smaller valleys that run down +from the high ridges into that great and fertile valley, I could not +help admiring the taste of the ancient kings who made this city (which +once covered all the hill round about, and which contained 92 churches +and chapels) a chief place of their residence. There are not many finer +spots in England; and if I were to take in a circle of eight or ten +miles of semi-diameter, I should say that I believe there is not one so +fine. Here are hill, dell, water, meadows, woods, corn-fields, downs: +and all of them very fine and very beautifully disposed. This country +does not present to us that sort of beauties which we see about +Guildford and Godalming, and round the skirts of Hindhead and Blackdown, +where the ground lies in the form that the surface-water in a boiling +copper would be in if you could, by word of command, <i>make it be still</i>, +the variously-shaped bubbles all sticking up; and really, to look at the +face of the earth, who can help imagining that some such process has +produced its present form? Leaving this matter to be solved by those who +laugh at mysteries, I repeat that the country round Winchester does not +present to us beauties of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> <i>this sort</i>; but of a sort which I like a +great deal better. Arthur Young calls the vale between Farnham and Alton +<i>the finest ten miles</i> in England. Here is a river with fine meadows on +each side of it, and with rising grounds on each outside of the meadows, +those grounds having some hop-gardens and some pretty woods. But though +I was born in this vale I must confess that the ten miles between +Maidstone and Tunbridge (which the Kentish folks call the <i>Garden of +Eden</i>) is a great deal finer; for here, with a river three times as big, +and a vale three times as broad, there are, on rising grounds six times +as broad, not only hop-gardens and beautiful woods, but immense orchards +of apples, pears, plums, cherries and filberts, and these, in many +cases, with gooseberries and currants and raspberries beneath; and, all +taken together, the vale is really worthy of the appellation which it +bears. But even this spot, which I believe to be the very finest, as to +fertility and diminutive beauty, in this whole world, I, for my part, do +not like so well; nay, as a spot to <i>live on</i>, I think nothing at all of +it, compared with a country where high downs prevail, with here and +there a large wood on the top or the side of a hill, and where you see, +in the deep dells, here and there a farm-house, and here and there a +village, the buildings sheltered by a group of lofty trees.</p> + +<p>This is my taste, and here, in the north of Hampshire, it has its full +gratification. I like to look at the winding side of a great down, with +two or three numerous flocks of sheep on it, belonging to different +farms; and to see, lower down, the folds, in the fields, ready to +receive them for the night. We had, when we got upon the downs, after +leaving Winchester, this sort of country all the way to Whitchurch. Our +point of destination was this village of Burghclere, which lies close +under the north side of the lofty hill at Highclere, which is called +Beacon Hill, and on the top of which there are still the marks of a +Roman encampment. We saw this hill as soon as we got on Winchester +Downs; and without any regard to <i>roads</i>, we <i>steered</i> for it, as +sailors do for a land-mark. Of these 13 miles (from Winchester to +Whitchurch) we rode about eight or nine upon the <i>green-sward</i>, or over +fields equally smooth. And here is one great pleasure of living in +countries of this sort: no sloughs, no ditches, no nasty dirty lanes, +and the hedges, where there are any, are more for boundary marks than +for fences. Fine for hunting and coursing: no impediments; no gates to +open; nothing to impede the dogs, the horses, or the view. The water is +not <i>seen running</i>; but the great bed of chalk <i>holds it</i>, and the sun +draws it up for the benefit of the grass and the corn; and, whatever +inconvenience is experienced from the necessity of deep wells, and of +driving sheep and cattle far to water, is amply made up for by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>goodness of the water, and by the complete absence of floods, of +drains, of ditches and of water-furrows. As <i>things now are</i>, however, +these countries have one great drawback: the poor day-labourers suffer +from the want of fuel, and they have nothing but their <i>bare pay</i>. For +these reasons they are greatly worse off than those of the <i>woodland +countries</i>; and it is really surprising what a difference there is +between the faces that you see here and the round, red faces that you +see in the <i>wealds</i> and the <i>forests</i>, particularly in Sussex, where the +labourers <i>will</i> have a <i>meat-pudding</i> of some sort or other; and where +they <i>will</i> have <i>a fire</i> to sit by in the winter.</p> + +<p>After steering for some time, we came down to a very fine farmhouse, +which we stopped a little to admire; and I asked Richard whether <i>that</i> +was not a place to be happy in. The village, which we found to be +Stoke-Charity, was about a mile lower down this little vale. Before we +got to it, we overtook the owner of the farm, who knew me, though I did +not know him; but when I found it was Mr. Hinton Bailey, of whom and +whose farm I had heard so much, I was not at all surprised at the +fineness of what I had just seen. I told him that the word <i>charity</i>, +making, as it did, part of the name of this place, had nearly inspired +me with boldness enough to go to the farmhouse, in the ancient style, +and ask for something to eat, for that we had not yet breakfasted. He +asked us to go back; but at Burghclere we were <i>resolved to dine</i>. +After, however, crossing the village, and beginning again to ascend the +downs, we came to a labourer’s (<i>once a farmhouse</i>), where I asked the +man whether he had any <i>bread and cheese</i>, and was not a little pleased +to hear him say “<i>Yes</i>.” Then I asked him to give us a bit, protesting +that we had not yet broken our fast. He answered in the affirmative at +once, though I did not talk of payment. His wife brought out the cut +loaf, and a piece of Wiltshire cheese, and I took them in hand, gave +Richard a good hunch, and took another for myself. I verily believe that +all the pleasure of eating enjoyed by all the feeders in London in a +whole year does not equal that which we enjoyed in gnawing this bread +and cheese as we rode over this cold down, whip and bridle-reins in one +hand, and the hunch in the other. Richard, who was purse bearer, gave +the woman, by my direction, about enough to buy two quartern loaves: for +she told me that they had to buy their bread <i>at the mill</i>, not being +able to bake themselves for <i>want of fuel</i>; and this, as I said before, +is one of the draw-backs in this sort of country. I wish every one of +these people had an <i>American fire-place</i>. Here they might, then, even +in these bare countries, have comfortable warmth. Rubbish of any sort +would, by this means, give them warmth. I am now, at six o’clock in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> the +morning, sitting in a room, where one of these fire-places, with very +light <i>turf</i> in it, gives as good and steady a warmth as it is possible +to feel, and which room has, too, been <i>cured of smoking</i> by this +fire-place.</p> + +<p>Before we got this supply of bread and cheese, we, though in ordinary +times a couple of singularly jovial companions, and seldom going a +hundred yards (except going very fast) without one or the other +speaking, began to grow <i>dull</i>, or rather <i>glum</i>. The way seemed long; +and, when I had to speak in answer to Richard, the speaking was as brief +as might be. Unfortunately, just at this critical period, one of the +loops that held the straps of Richard’s little portmanteau broke; and it +became necessary (just before we overtook Mr. Bailey) for me to fasten +the portmanteau on before me, upon my saddle. This, which was not the +work of more than five minutes, would, had I had <i>a breakfast</i>, have +been nothing at all, and, indeed, matter of laughter. But <i>now</i> it was +<i>something</i>. It was his “<i>fault</i>” for capering and jerking about “<i>so</i>.” +I jumped off, saying, “<i>Here!</i> I’ll carry it <i>myself</i>.” And then I began +to take off the remaining strap, pulling with great violence and in +great haste. Just at this time my eyes met his, in which I saw <i>great +surprise</i>; and, feeling the just rebuke, feeling heartily ashamed of +myself, I instantly changed my tone and manner, cast the blame upon the +saddler, and talked of the effectual means which we would take to +prevent the like in future.</p> + +<p>Now, if such was the effect produced upon me by the want of food for +only two or three hours; me, who had dined well the day before and eaten +toast and butter the over-night; if the missing of only one breakfast, +and that, too, from my own whim, while I had money in my pocket to get +one at any public-house, and while I could get one only for asking for +at any farm-house; if the not having breakfasted could, and under such +circumstances, make me what you may call “<i>cross</i>” to a child like this, +whom I must necessarily love so much, and to whom I never speak but in +the very kindest manner; if this mere absence of a breakfast could thus +put me <i>out of temper</i>, how great are the allowances that we ought to +make for the poor creatures who, in this once happy and now miserable +country, are doomed to lead a life of constant labour and of +half-starvation. I suppose that, as we rode away from the cottage, we +gnawed up, between us, a pound of bread and a quarter of a pound of +cheese. Here was about <i>fivepence</i> worth at present prices. Even this, +which was only a mere <i>snap</i>, a mere <i>stay-stomach</i>, for us, would, for +us two, come to 3<i>s.</i> a week all but a penny. How, then, gracious God! +is a labouring man, his wife, and, perhaps, four or five small children, +to exist upon 8<i>s.</i> or 9<i>s.</i> a week!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> Aye, and to find house-rent, +clothing, bedding and fuel out of it? Richard and I ate here, at this +snap, more, and much more, than the average of labourers, their wives +and children, have to eat in a whole day, and that the labourer has to +<i>work</i> on too!</p> + +<p>When we got here to Burghclere we were again as <i>hungry</i> as hunters. +What, then, must be the life of these poor creatures? But is not the +state of the country, is not the hellishness of the system, all depicted +in this one disgraceful and damning fact, that the magistrates, who +settle on what the <i>labouring poor</i> ought to have to live on, <span class="smcaplc">ALLOW THEM +LESS THAN IS ALLOWED TO FELONS IN THE GAOLS</span>, and allow them <i>nothing for +clothing and fuel, and house-rent</i>! And yet, while this is notoriously +the case, while the main body of the working class in England are fed +and clad and even lodged worse than felons, and are daily becoming even +worse and worse off, the King is advised to tell the Parliament, and the +world, that we are in a state of <i>unexampled prosperity</i>, and that this +prosperity must be <i>permanent</i>, because <i>all the</i> <span class="smcaplc">GREAT</span> <i>interests</i> are +<i>prospering</i>! THE WORKING PEOPLE ARE NOT, THEN, “A <i>GREAT</i> INTEREST”! +THEY WILL BE FOUND TO BE ONE, BY-AND-BY. What is to be the <i>end</i> of +this? What can be the <i>end</i> of it, but dreadful convulsion? What other +can be produced by a system, which allows the <i>felon</i> better food, +better clothing, and better lodging than the <i>honest labourer</i>?</p> + +<p>I see that there has been a grand <i>humanity-meeting</i> in Norfolk to +assure the Parliament that these humanity-people will <i>back</i> it in any +measures that it may adopt for freeing the <span class="smcaplc">NEGROES</span>. Mr. Buxton figured +here, also Lord Suffield, who appear to have been the two principal +actors, or <i>showers-off</i>. This same Mr. Buxton opposed the Bill intended +to relieve the poor in England by breaking a little into the brewers’ +monopoly; and as to Lord Suffield, if he really wish to <i>free slaves</i>, +let him go to Wykham in this county, where he will see some drawing, +like horses, gravel to repair the roads for the stock-jobbers and +dead-weight and the seat-dealers to ride smoothly on. If he go down a +little further, he will see <span class="smcaplc">CONVICTS</span> at <span class="smcaplc">PRECISELY THE SAME WORK</span>, +harnessed in <span class="smcaplc">JUST THE SAME WAY</span>; but the convicts he will find hale and +ruddy-cheeked, in dresses sufficiently warm, and bawling and singing; +while he will find the labourers thin, ragged, shivering, dejected +mortals, such as never were seen in any other country upon earth. There +is not a negro in the West Indies who has not more to eat in a day, than +the average of English labourers have to eat in a week, and of better +food too. Colonel Wodehouse and a man of the name of Hoseason (whence +came he?) who opposed this humanity-scheme talked of the sums necessary +to pay the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> owners of the slaves. They took special care not to tell the +humanity-men <i>to look at home for slaves to free</i>. No, no! that would +have applied to themselves, as well as to Lord Suffield and humanity +Buxton. If it were worth while to <i>reason</i> with these people, one might +ask them whether they do not think that <i>another war</i> is likely to +relieve them of all these cares, simply by making the colonies transfer +their allegiance or assert their independence? But to reason with them +is useless. If they can busy themselves with compassion for the negroes, +while they uphold the system that makes the labourers of England more +wretched, and beyond all measure more wretched, than any negro slaves +are, or ever were, or ever can be, they are unworthy of anything but our +contempt.</p> + +<p>But the “education” canters are the most curious fellows of all. They +have seen “education,” as they call it, and crimes, go on increasing +together, till the gaols, though six times their former dimensions, will +hardly suffice; and yet the canting creatures still cry that crimes +arise from want of what they call “education!” They see the felon better +fed and better clad than the honest labourer. They see this; and yet +they continually cry that the crimes arise from a want of “education!” +What can be the cause of this perverseness? It is not perverseness: it +is <i>roguery</i>, <i>corruption</i>, and <i>tyranny</i>. The tyrant, the unfeeling +tyrant, squeezes the labourers for gain’s sake; and the corrupt +politician and literary or tub rogue find an excuse for him by +pretending that it is not want of food and clothing, but want of +education, that makes the poor, starving wretches thieves and robbers. +If the press, if only the press, were to do its duty, or but a tenth +part of its duty, this hellish system could not go on. But it favours +the system by ascribing the misery to wrong causes. The causes are +these: the tax-gatherer presses the landlord; the landlord the farmer; +and the farmer the labourer. Here it falls at last; and this class is +made so miserable that a <i>felon’s</i> life is better than that of a +<i>labourer</i>. Does there want any <i>other cause</i> to produce crimes? But on +these causes, so clear to the eye of reason, so plain from experience, +the press scarcely ever says a single word; while it keeps bothering our +brains about education and morality; and about ignorance and immorality +leading to <i>felonies</i>. To be sure immorality leads to felonies. Who does +not know that? But who is to expect morality in a half-starved man, who +is whipped if he do not work, though he has not, for his whole day’s +food, so much as I and my little boy snapped up in six or seven minutes +upon Stoke-Charity Down? Aye! but if the press were to ascribe the +increase of crimes to the true causes it must <i>go further back</i>. It must +go to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> <i>cause of the taxes</i>. It must go to the debt, the +dead-weight, the thundering standing army, the enormous sinecures, +pensions, and grants; and this would suit but a very small part of a +<i>press</i> which lives and thrives principally by one or the other of +these.</p> + +<p>As with the press, so is it with Mr. Brougham and all such politicians. +They stop short, or, rather, they begin in the middle. They attempt to +prevent the evils of the deadly ivy by cropping off, or, rather, +bruising a little, a few of its leaves. They do not assail even its +branches, while they appear to look upon the <i>trunk</i> as something <i>too +sacred</i> even to be <i>looked at</i> with vulgar eyes. Is not the injury +recently done to about <i>forty thousand poor families</i> in and near +Plymouth, by the Small-note Bill, a thing that Mr. Brougham ought to +think about before he thinks anything more about <i>educating</i> those poor +families? Yet will he, when he again meets the Ministers, say a word +about this monstrous evil? I am afraid that no Member will say a word +about it; but I am rather more than afraid that <i>he</i> will not. And +<i>why</i>? Because, if he reproach the Ministers with this crying cruelty, +they will ask him first how this is to be prevented without a repeal of +the Small-note Bill (by which Peel’s Bill was partly repealed); then +they will ask him, how the prices are to be kept up without the +small-notes; then they will say, “Does the honourable and learned +Gentleman <i>wish to see wheat at four shillings a bushel again</i>?”</p> + +<p>B. No (looking at Mr. Western and Daddy Coke), no, no, no! Upon my +honour, no!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Min.</span> Does the honourable and learned Gentleman wish to see Cobbett again +at county meetings, and to see petitions again coming from those +meetings, calling for a reduction of the interest of the...?</p> + +<p>B. No, no, no, upon my soul, no!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Min.</span> Does the honourable and learned Gentleman wish to see that +“<i>equitable</i> adjustment,” which Cobbett has a thousand times declared +can never take place without an application, to new purposes, of that +great mass of public property, commonly called Church property?</p> + +<p>B. (Almost bursting with rage). How <i>dare</i> the honourable gentlemen to +suppose me capable of such a thought?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Min.</span> We suppose nothing. We only ask the question; and we ask it, +because to put an end to the small-notes would inevitably produce all +these things; and it is impossible to have small-notes to the extent +necessary to <i>keep up prices</i>, without having, now-and-then, <i>breaking +banks</i>. Banks cannot break without <i>producing misery</i>; you must have the +<i>consequence</i> if you will have the <i>cause</i>. The honourable and learned +Gentleman wants the feast without the reckoning. In short, is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +honourable and learned Gentleman for putting an end to “<i>public +credit</i>”?</p> + +<p>B. No, no, no, no!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Min.</span> Then would it not be better for the honourable and learned +Gentleman to <i>hold his tongue</i>?</p> + +<p>All men of sense and sincerity will at once answer this last question in +the affirmative. They will all say that this is not <i>opposition</i> to the +Ministers. The Ministers do not <i>wish</i> to see 40,000 families, nor any +families at all (who give them <i>no real annoyance</i>), reduced to misery; +they do not <i>wish</i> to cripple their own tax-payers; very far from it. If +they could carry on the debt and dead-weight and place and pension and +barrack system, without reducing any <i>quiet</i> people to misery, they +would like it exceedingly. But they <i>do</i> wish to carry on that system; +and he does not <i>oppose</i> them who does not endeavour to put an end to +the system.</p> + +<p>This is done by nobody in Parliament; and, therefore, there is, in fact, +<i>no opposition</i>; and this is felt by the whole nation; and this is the +reason why <i>the people</i> now take so little interest in what is said and +done in Parliament, compared to that which they formerly took. This is +the reason why there is no man, or men, whom the people seem to care at +all about. A great portion of the people now clearly understand the +nature and effects of the system; they are not now to be deceived by +speeches and professions. If Pitt and Fox had <i>now to start</i>, there +would be no “Pittites” and “Foxites.” Those happy days of political +humbug are gone for ever. The “gentlemen <i>opposite</i>” are opposite only +as to mere <i>local position</i>. They sit on the opposite side of the House: +that’s all. In every other respect they are like parson and clerk; or, +perhaps, rather more like the rooks and jackdaws: one <i>caw</i> and the +other <i>chatter</i>; but both have the same object in view: both are in +pursuit of the same sort of diet. One set is, to be sure, <span class="smcaplc">IN</span> place, and +the other <span class="smcaplc">OUT</span>; but, though the rooks keep the jackdaws on the inferior +branches, these latter would be as clamorous as the rooks themselves +against <i>felling the tree</i>; and just as clamorous would the “gentlemen +opposite” be against any one who should propose to put down the system +itself. And yet, unless you do <i>that</i>, things must go on in the present +way, and <i>felons</i> must be <i>better fed</i> than <i>honest labourers</i>; and +starvation and thieving and robbing and gaol-building and transporting +and hanging and penal laws must go on increasing, as they have gone on +from the day of the establishment of the debt to the present hour. +Apropos of <i>penal laws</i>, Doctor Black (of the Morning Chronicle) is now +filling whole columns with very just remarks on the new and terrible +law, which makes the taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> of an apple <i>felony</i>; but he says not a +word about the <i>silence</i> of Sir Jammy (the humane <i>code-softener</i>) upon +this subject! The “<i>humanity</i> and <i>liberality</i>” of the Parliament have +relieved men addicted to <i>fraud</i> and to <i>certain other crimes</i> from the +disgrace of the pillory, and they have, since Castlereagh cut his own +throat, relieved <i>self-slayers</i> from the disgrace of the cross-road +burial; but the same Parliament, amidst all the workings of this rare +humanity and liberality, have made it <i>felony to take an apple off a +tree</i>, which last year was a trivial trespass, and was formerly no +offence at all! However, even this <i>is necessary</i>, as long as this +bank-note system continue in its present way; and all complaints about +severity of laws, levelled at the poor, are useless and foolish; and +these complaints are even base in those who do their best to uphold a +system which has brought <i>the honest labourer to be fed worse than the +felon</i>. What, short of such laws, can prevent <i>starving men</i> from coming +to take away the dinners of those who have plenty? “<i>Education</i>”! +Despicable cant and nonsense! What education, what moral precepts, can +quiet the gnawings and ragings of hunger?</p> + +<p>Looking, now, back again for a minute to the little village of +<i>Stoke-Charity</i>, the name of which seems to indicate that its rents +formerly belonged wholly to the poor and indigent part of the community: +it is near to Winchester, that grand scene of ancient learning, piety, +and munificence. Be this as it may, the parish formerly contained ten +farms, and it now contains but two, which are owned by Mr. Hinton Bailey +and his nephew, and, therefore, which may probably become <i>one</i>. There +used to be ten well-fed families in this parish at any rate: these, +taking five to a family, made fifty well-fed people. And now all are +half-starved, except the curate and the two families. The <i>blame</i> is not +the land-owner’s; it is nobody’s; it is due to the infernal <i>funding</i> +and <i>taxing</i> system, which <i>of necessity</i> drives property into large +masses in order to <i>save itself</i>; which crushes little proprietors down +into labourers; and which presses them down in that state, there takes +their wages from them and makes them <i>paupers</i>, their share of food and +raiment being taken away to support debt and dead-weight and army and +all the rest of the enormous expenses which are required to sustain this +intolerable system. Those, therefore, are fools or hypocrites who affect +to wish to better the lot of the poor labourers and manufacturers, while +they, at the same time, either actively or passively, uphold the system +which is the manifest cause of it. Here is a system which, clearly as +the nose upon your face, you see taking away the little gentleman’s +estate, the little farmer’s farm, the poor labourer’s meat-dinner and +Sunday-coat; and while you see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> this so plainly, you, fool or hypocrite, +as you are, cry out for supporting the system that causes it all! Go on, +base wretch; but remember that of such a progress dreadful must be the +end. The day will come when millions of long-suffering creatures will be +in a state that they and you now little dream of. All that we now behold +of <i>combinations</i>, and the like, are mere <i>indications</i> of what the +great body of the suffering people <i>feel</i>, and of the thoughts that are +passing in their minds. The <i>coaxing</i> work of <i>schools</i> and <i>tracts</i> +will only add to what would be quite enough without them. There is not a +labourer in the whole country who does not see to the bottom of this +<i>coaxing</i> work. They are <i>not deceived</i> in this respect. Hunger has +opened their eyes. I’ll engage that there is not, even in this obscure +village of Stoke-Charity, one single creature, however forlorn, who does +not understand all about the <i>real motives</i> of the school and the tract +and the Bible affair as well as Butterworth, or Rivington, or as Joshua +Watson himself.</p> + +<p>Just after we had finished the bread and cheese, we crossed the turnpike +road that goes from Basingstoke to Stockbridge; and Mr. Bailey had told +us that we were then to bear away to our right, and go to the end of a +wood (which we saw one end of), and keep round with that wood, or +coppice, as he called it, to our left; but we, seeing Beacon Hill more +to the left, and resolving to go, as nearly as possible, in a straight +line to it, steered directly over the fields; that is to say, pieces of +ground from 30 to 100 acres in each. But a hill which we had to go over +had here hidden from our sight a part of this “coppice,” which consists, +perhaps, of 150 or 200 acres, and which we found sweeping round, in a +crescent-like form so far, from towards our left, as to bring our +land-mark over the coppice at about the mid-length of the latter. Upon +this discovery we slackened sail; for this coppice might be a mile +across; and though the bottom was sound enough, being a coverlet of +flints upon a bed of chalk, the underwood was too high and too thick for +us to face, being, as we were, at so great a distance from the means of +obtaining a fresh supply of clothes. Our leather leggings would have +stood anything; but our coats were of the common kind; and before we saw +the other side of the coppice we should, I dare say, have been as ragged +as forest-ponies in the month of March.</p> + +<p>In this dilemma I stopped and looked at the coppice. Luckily two boys, +who had been cutting sticks (to <i>sell</i>, I dare say, at least <i>I hope +so</i>), made their appearance, at about half a mile off, on the side for +the coppice. Richard galloped off to the boys, from whom he found that +in one part of the coppice there was a road cut across, the point of +entrance into which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> road they explained to him. This was to us what the +discovery of a canal across the isthmus of Darien would be to a ship in +the Gulf of Mexico wanting to get into the Pacific without doubling Cape +Horne. A beautiful road we found it. I should suppose the best part of a +mile long, perfectly straight, the surface sound and smooth, about eight +feet wide, the whole length seen at once, and, when you are at one end, +the other end seeming to be hardly a yard wide. When we got about +half-way, we found a road that crossed this. These roads are, I suppose, +cut for the hunters. They are very pretty, at any rate, and we found +this one very convenient; for it cut our way short by a full half mile.</p> + +<p>From this coppice to Whitchurch is not more than about four miles, and +we soon reached it, because here you begin to descend into the <i>vale</i>, +in which this little town lies, and through which there runs that +<i>stream</i> which turns the mill of ’Squire Portal, and which mill makes +the Bank of England Note-Paper! Talk of the Thames and the Hudson with +their forests of masts; talk of the Nile and the Delaware bearing the +food of millions on their bosoms; talk of the Ganges and the Mississippi +sending forth over the world their silks and their cottons; talk of the +Rio de la Plata and the other rivers, their beds pebbled with silver and +gold and diamonds. What, as to their effect on the condition of mankind, +as to the virtues, the vices, the enjoyments and the sufferings of men; +what are all these rivers put together compared with the <i>river of +Whitchurch</i>, which a man of threescore may jump across dry-shod, which +moistens a quarter of a mile wide of poor, rushy meadow, which washes +the skirts of the park and game preserves of that bright patrician who +wedded the daughter of Hanson, the attorney and late solicitor to the +Stamp-Office, and which is, to look at it, of far less importance than +any gutter in the Wen! Yet this river, by merely turning a wheel, which +wheel sets some rag-tearers and grinders and washers and re-compressers +in motion, has produced a greater effect on the condition of men than +has been produced on that condition by all the other rivers, all the +seas, all the mines and all the continents in the world. The discovery +of America, and the consequent discovery and use of vast quantities of +silver and gold, did, indeed, produce great effects on the nations of +Europe. They changed the value of money, and caused, as all such changes +must, <i>a transfer of property</i>, raising up new families and pulling down +old ones, a transfer very little favourable either to <i>morality</i>, or to +real and <i>substantial liberty</i>. But this cause worked <i>slowly</i>; its +consequences came on by slow <i>degrees</i>; it made a transfer of property, +but it made that transfer in so small a degree,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> and it left the +property quiet in the hands of the new possessor <i>for so long a time</i>, +that the effect was not violent, and was not, at any rate, such as to +uproot possessors by whole districts, as the hurricane uproots the +forests.</p> + +<p>Not so the product of the little sedgy rivulet of Whitchurch! It has, in +the short space of a hundred and thirty-one years, and, indeed, in the +space of the last <i>forty</i>, caused greater changes as to property than +had been caused by all other things put together in the long course of +seven centuries, though during that course there had been a sweeping, +confiscating Protestant reformation. Let us look back to the place where +I started on this present rural ride. Poor old Baron Maseres, succeeded +at Reigate by little Parson Fellowes, and at Betchworth (three miles on +my road) by Kendrick, is no bad instance to begin with; for the Baron +was nobly descended, though from French ancestors. At Albury, fifteen +miles on my road, Mr. Drummond (a banker) is in the seat of one of the +Howards, and close by he has bought the estate, just pulled down the +house, and blotted out the memory of the Godschalls. At Chilworth, two +miles further down the same vale, and close under St. Martha’s Hill, Mr. +Tinkler, a powder-maker (succeeding Hill, another powder-maker, who had +been a breeches-maker at Hounslow), has got the old mansion and the +estate of the old Duchess of Marlborough, who frequently resided in what +was then a large quadrangular mansion, but the remains of which now +serve as out farm-buildings and a farmhouse, which I found inhabited by +a poor labourer and his family, the farm being in the hands of the +powder-maker, who does not find the once noble seat good enough for him. +Coming on to Waverley Abbey, there is Mr. Thompson, a merchant, +succeeding the Orby Hunters and Sir Robert Rich. Close adjoining, Mr. +Laing, a West India dealer of some sort, has stepped into the place of +the lineal descendants of Sir William Temple. At Farnham the park and +palace remain in the hands of a Bishop of Winchester, as they have done +for about eight hundred years: but why is this? Because they are public +property; because they cannot, without express laws, be transferred. +Therefore the product of the rivulet of Whitchurch has had no effect +upon the ownership of these, which are still in the hands of a Bishop of +Winchester; not of a William of Wykham, to be sure; but still, in those +of a bishop, at any rate. Coming on to old Alresford (twenty miles from +Farnham) Sheriff, the son of a Sheriff, who was a Commissary in the +American war, has succeeded the Gages. Two miles further on, at +Abbotston (down on the side of the Itchen) Alexander Baring has +succeeded the heirs and successors of the Duke of Bolton, the remains of +whose noble mansion I once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> saw here. Not above a mile higher up, the +same Baring has, at the Grange, with its noble mansion, park and estate, +succeeded the heirs of Lord Northington; and at only about two miles +further, Sir Thomas Baring, at Stratton Park, has succeeded the Russells +in the ownership of the estates of Stratton and Micheldover, which were +once the property of Alfred the Great! Stepping back, and following my +road, down by the side of the meadows of the beautiful river Itchen, and +coming to Easton, I look across to Martyr’s Worthy, and there see (as I +observed before) the Ogles succeeded by a general or a colonel somebody; +but who, or whence, I cannot learn.</p> + +<p>This is all in less than four score miles, from Reigate even to this +place, where I now am. Oh! mighty rivulet of Whitchurch! All our +properties, all our laws, all our manners, all our minds, you have +changed! This, which I have noticed, has all taken place within forty, +and most of it within <i>ten</i> years. The <i>small gentry</i>, to about the +<i>third</i> rank upwards (considering there to be five ranks from the +smallest gentry up to the greatest nobility), are <i>all gone</i>, nearly to +a man, and the small farmers along with them. The Barings alone have, I +should think, swallowed up thirty or forty of these small gentry without +perceiving it. They, indeed, swallow up the biggest race of all; but +innumerable small fry slip down unperceived, like caplins down the +throats of the sharks, while these latter <i>feel</i> only the codfish. It +frequently happens, too, that a big gentleman or nobleman, whose estate +has been big enough to resist for a long while, and who has swilled up +many caplin-gentry, goes down the throat of the loan-dealer with all the +caplins in his belly.</p> + +<p>Thus the Whitchurch rivulet goes on, shifting property from hand to +hand. The big, in order to save themselves from being “<i>swallowed up +quick</i>” (as we used to be taught to say in our Church Prayers against +Buonaparte), make use of their <i>voices</i> to get, through place, pension, +or sinecure, something back from the taxers. Others of them <i>fall in +love</i> with the <i>daughters</i> and <i>widows</i> of paper-money people, big +brewers, and the like; and sometimes their daughters <i>fall in love</i> with +the paper-money people’s sons, or the fathers of those sons; and, +whether they be <i>Jews</i>, or not, seems to be little matter with this +all-subduing passion of love. But the <i>small gentry</i> have no resource. +While <i>war</i> lasted, “<i>glorious</i> war,” there was a resource; but <i>now</i>, +alas! not only is there no war, but there is <i>no hope of war</i>; and not a +few of them will actually come to the <i>parish-book</i>. There is no place +for them in the army, church, navy, customs, excise, pension-list, or +anywhere else. All these are now wanted by “their <i>betters</i>.” A +stock-jobber’s family will not look at such penniless things. So that +while they have been the active, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> zealous, the efficient +instruments, in compelling the working classes to submit to +half-starvation, they have at any rate been brought to the most abject +ruin themselves; for which I most heartily thank God. The “harvest of +war” is never to return without a total blowing up of the paper-system. +Spain must belong to France, St. Domingo must pay her tribute. America +must be paid for slaves taken away in war, she must have Florida, she +must go on openly and avowedly making a navy for the purpose of humbling +us; and all this, and ten times more, if France and America should +choose; and yet we can have <i>no war</i> as long as the paper-system last; +and, if <i>that cease</i>, then <i>what is to come</i>!</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere,<br />Sunday Morning, 6th November.</i></p> + +<p>It has been fine all the week until to-day, when we intended to set off +for Hurstbourn-Tarrant, vulgarly called Uphusband, but the rain seems as +if it would stop us. From Whitchurch to within two miles of this place +it is the same sort of country as between Winchester and Whitchurch. +High, chalk bottom, open downs or large fields, with here and there a +farmhouse in a dell sheltered by lofty trees, which, to my taste, is the +most pleasant situation in the world.</p> + +<p>This has been, with Richard, one whole week of hare-hunting, and with +me, three days and a half. The weather has been amongst the finest that +I ever saw, and Lord Caernarvon’s preserves fill the country with hares, +while these hares invite us to ride about and to see his park and +estate, at this fine season of the year, in every direction. We are now +on the north side of that Beacon Hill for which we steered last Sunday. +This makes part of a chain of lofty chalk-hills and downs, which divides +all the lower part of Hampshire from Berkshire, though the ancient +ruler, owner, of the former took a little strip all along on the flat, +on this side of the chain, in order, I suppose, to make the ownership of +the hills themselves the more clear of all dispute; just as the owner of +a field-hedge and bank owns also the ditch on his neighbour’s side. From +these hills you look, at one view, over the whole of Berkshire, into +Oxfordshire, Gloucestershire and Wiltshire, and you can see the Isle of +Wight and the sea. On this north side the chalk soon ceases, and the +sand and clay begin, and the oak-woods cover a great part of the +surface. Amongst these is the farmhouse in which we are, and from the +warmth and good fare of which we do not mean to stir until we can do it +without the chance of a wet skin.</p> + +<p>This rain has given me time to look at the newspapers of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> about a week +old. Oh, oh! The Cotton Lords are tearing! Thank God for that! The Lords +of the Anvil are snapping! Thank God for that too! They have kept poor +souls, then, in a heat of 84 degrees to little purpose after all. The +“great interests” mentioned in the King’s Speech do not, <i>then</i>, all +continue to flourish! The “prosperity” was not, then, “permanent,” +though the King was advised to assert so positively that it was! +“Anglo-Mexican and Pasco-Peruvian” fall in price, and the Chronicle +assures me that “the respectable owners of the Mexican Mining shares +mean to take measures to protect their <i>property</i>.” Indeed! Like +<i>protecting</i> the Spanish Bonds, I suppose? Will the Chronicle be so good +as to tell us the names of these “<i>respectable</i> persons”? Doctor Black +must know their names; or else he could not know them to be +<i>respectable</i>. If the parties be those that I have heard, these mining +works may possibly operate with them as an emetic, and make them throw +up a part at least of what they have taken down.</p> + +<p>There has, I see, at New York, been that confusion which I, four months +ago, said would and must take place; that breaking of merchants and all +the ruin which, in such a case, spreads itself about, ruining families +and producing fraud and despair. Here will be, between the two +countries, an interchange of cause and effect, proceeding from the +dealings in <i>cotton</i>, until, first and last, two or three hundred +thousands of persons have, at one spell of paper-money work, been made +to drink deep of misery. I pity none but the poor English creatures, who +are compelled to work on the wool of this accursed weed, which has done +so much mischief to England. The slaves who cultivate and gather the +cotton are well fed. They do not suffer. The sufferers are these who +spin it and weave it and colour it, and the wretched beings who cover +with it those bodies which, as in the time of old Fortescue, ought to be +“clothed throughout in good woollens.”</p> + +<p>One newspaper says that Mr. Huskisson is gone to Paris, and thinks it +<i>likely</i> that he will endeavour to “inculcate in the mind of the +Bourbons wise principles of <i>free trade</i>!” What the devil next! Persuade +them, I suppose, that it is for <i>their good</i> that English goods should +be admitted into France and into St. Domingo with little or no duty? +Persuade them to make a treaty of commerce with him; and, in short, +persuade them to make <i>France help to pay the interest of our debt and +dead-weight</i>, lest our system of paper should go to pieces, and lest +that should be followed by <i>a radical reform</i>, which reform would be +injurious to “the monarchical principle!” This newspaper politician +does, however, <i>think</i> that the Bourbons will be “too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> dull” to +comprehend these “<i>enlightened</i> and <i>liberal</i>” notions; and I think so +too. I think the Bourbons, or, rather, those who will speak for them, +will say: “No thank you. You contracted your debt without our +participation; you made your <i>dead-weight</i> for your own purposes; the +seizure of our museums and the loss of our frontier towns followed your +victory of Waterloo, though we were ‘your Allies’ at the time; you made +us pay an enormous Tribute after that battle, and kept possession of +part of France till we had paid it; you <i>wished</i>, the other day, to keep +us out of Spain, and you, Mr. Huskisson, in a speech at Liverpool, +called our deliverance of the King of Spain an <i>unjust and unprincipled +act of aggression</i>, while Mr. Canning <i>prayed to God</i> that we might not +succeed. No thank you, Mr. Huskisson, no. No coaxing, Sir: we saw, then, +too clearly the <i>advantage we derived from your having a debt and a dead +weight</i> to wish to assist in relieving you from either. ‘Monarchical +principle’ here, or ‘monarchical principle’ there, we know that your +mill-stone debt is our best security. We like to have your wishes, your +prayers, and your abuse against us, rather than your <i>subsidies</i> and +your <i>fleets</i>: and so farewell, Mr. Huskisson: if you like, the English +may drink French wine; but whether they do or not, the French shall not +wear your rotten cottons. And as a last word, how did you maintain the +‘monarchical principle,’ the ‘paternal principle,’ or as Castlereagh +called it, the ‘social system,’ when you called that an unjust and +unprincipled aggression which put an end to the bargain by which the +convents and other church-property of Spain were to be transferred to +the Jews and Jobbers of London? Bon jour, Monsieur Huskisson, ci-devant +membre et orateur du club de quatre vingt neuf!”</p> + +<p>If they do not actually say this to him, this is what they will think; +and that is, as to the effect, precisely the same thing. It is +childishness to suppose that any nation will act from a desire of +<i>serving all other nations, or any one other nation, as well as itself</i>. +It will make, unless compelled, no compact by which it does not think +itself <i>a gainer</i>; and amongst its gains it must, and always does, +reckon the injury to its rivals. It is a stupid idea that <i>all nations +are to gain</i> by anything. Whatever is the gain of one must, in some way +or other, be a loss to another. So that this new project of “free trade” +and “mutual gain” is as pure a humbug as that which the newspapers +carried on during the “glorious days” of loans, when they told us, at +every loan, that the bargain was “equally advantageous to the +contractors and to the public!” The fact is, the “free trade” project is +clearly the effect of a <i>consciousness of our weakness</i>. As long as we +felt <i>strong</i>, we felt <i>bold</i>, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> had no thought of <i>conciliating</i> the +world; we upheld a system of <i>exclusion</i>, which long experience proved +to be founded in <i>sound policy</i>. But we now find that our debts and our +loads of various sorts cripple us. We feel our incapacity for the +<i>carrying of trade sword in hand</i>: and so we have given up all our old +maxims, and are endeavouring to persuade the world that we are anxious +to enjoy no advantages that are not enjoyed also by our neighbours. +Alas! the world sees very clearly the cause of all this; and the world +<i>laughs at us</i> for our imaginary cunning. My old doggrel, that used to +make me and my friends laugh in Long Island, is precisely pat to this +case.</p> + +<p class="poem">When his maw was stuffed with paper,<br /> +How <span class="smcap">John Bull</span> did prance and caper!<br /> +How he foam’d and how he roar’d:<br /> +How his neighbours all he gored!<br /> +How he scrap’d the ground and hurl’d<br /> +Dirt and filth on all the world!<br /> +But <span class="smcap">John Bull</span> of paper empty,<br /> +Though in midst of peace and plenty,<br /> +Is modest grown as worn-out sinner,<br /> +As Scottish laird that wants a dinner;<br /> +As <span class="smcap">Wilberforce</span>, become content<br /> +A rotten burgh to represent;<br /> +As <span class="smcap">Blue</span> and <span class="smcap">Buff</span>, when, after hunting<br /> +On Yankee coasts their “<i>bits of bunting</i>,”<br /> +Came softly back across the seas,<br /> +And silent were as mice in cheese.</p> + +<p>Yes, the whole world, and particularly the French and the Yankees, see +very clearly the <i>course</i> of this fit of modesty and of liberality into +which we have so recently fallen. They know well that a <i>war</i> would play +the very devil with our national faith. They know, in short, that no +Ministers in their senses will think of supporting the paper-system +through another war. They know well that no Ministers that now exist, or +are likely to exist, will venture to endanger the paper-system; and +therefore they know that (for England) they may now do just what they +please. When the French were about to invade Spain, Mr. Canning said +that his last despatch on the subject was to be understood as a +<i>protest</i> on the part of England against permanent occupation of any +part of Spain by France. There the French are, however; and at the end +of two years and a half he says that he knows nothing about any +intention that they have to quit Spain, or any part of it.</p> + +<p>Why, Saint Domingo <i>was</i> independent. We had traded with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> it as an +independent state. Is it not clear that if we had said the word (and had +been known to be able to <i>arm</i>), France would not have attempted to +treat that fine and rich country as a colony? Mark how wise this measure +of France! How <i>just</i>, too; to obtain by means of a tribute from the St. +Domingoians compensation for the <i>loyalists</i> of that country! Was this +done with regard to the loyalists of <i>America</i> in the reign of the good +jubilee George III.? Oh, no! Those loyalists had to be paid, and many of +them have even yet, at the end of more than half a century, to be paid +out of taxes raised on <i>us</i>, for the losses occasioned by their +disinterested loyalty! This was a masterstroke on the part of France; +she gets about seven millions sterling in the way of tribute; she makes +that rich island yield to her great commercial advantages; and she, at +the same time, paves the way for effecting one of two objects; namely, +getting the island back again, or throwing our islands into confusion +whenever it shall be her interest to do it.</p> + +<p>This might have been prevented by <i>a word</i> from us if we had been ready +for <i>war</i>. But we are grown <i>modest</i>; we are grown <i>liberal</i>; we do not +want to engross that which fairly belongs to our neighbours! We have +undergone a change somewhat like that which marriage produces on a +blustering fellow who while single can but just clear his teeth. This +change is quite surprising, and especially by the time that the second +child comes the man is <i>loaded</i>; he looks like a loaded man; his voice +becomes so soft and gentle compared to what it used to be. Just such are +the effects of <i>our load</i>: but the worst of it is our neighbours are +<i>not</i> thus loaded. However, far be it from me to <i>regret</i> this, or any +part of it. The load is the people’s best friend. If that could, +<i>without reform</i>: if that could be shaken off, leaving the seat-men and +the parsons in their present state, I would not live in England another +day! And I say this with as much seriousness as if I were upon my +death-bed.</p> + +<p>The wise men of the newspapers are for a repeal of the <i>Corn Laws</i>. With +all my heart. I will join anybody in a petition for their repeal. But +this will not be done. We shall stop short of this extent of +“liberality,” let what may be the consequence to the manufacturers. The +Cotton Lords must all go, to the last man, rather than a repeal, these +laws will take place: and of this the newspaper wise men may be assured. +The farmers can but just rub along now, with all their high prices and +low wages. What would be their state, and that of their landlords, if +the wheat were to come down again to 4, 5, or even 6 shillings a +bushels? Universal agricultural bankruptcy would be the almost instant +consequence. Many of them are now deep in debt from the effects of 1820, +1821, and 1822. One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> more year like 1822 would have broken the whole +mass up, and left the lands to be cultivated, under the overseers, for +the benefit of the paupers. Society would have been nearly dissolved, +and the state of nature would have returned. The Small-Note Bill, +co-operating with the Corn Laws, have given a respite, and nothing more. +This Bill must remain <i>efficient</i>, paper-money must cover the country, +and the corn-laws must remain in force; or an “equitable adjustment” +must take place; or, to a state of nature this country must return. +What, then, as <i>I want</i> a repeal of the corn-laws, and also <i>want</i> to +get rid of the paper-money, I must want to see this return to a state of +nature? By no means. I want the “equitable adjustment,” and I am quite +sure that no adjustment can be <i>equitable</i> which does not apply <i>every +penny’s worth of public property</i> to the payment of the fund-holders and +dead-weight and the like. Clearly just and reasonable as this is, +however, the very mention of it makes the <span class="smcap">Fire-Shovels</span>, and some others, +half mad. It makes them storm and rant and swear like Bedlamites. But it +is curious to hear them talk of the impracticability of it; when they +all know that, by only two or three Acts of Parliament, Henry VIII. did +ten times as much as it would now, I hope, be necessary to do. If the +duty were imposed <i>on me</i>, no statesman, legislator or lawyer, but a +simple citizen, I think I could, in less than twenty-four hours, draw up +an Act that would give satisfaction to, I will not say <i>every man</i>, but +to, at least, ninety-nine out of every hundred; an Act that would put +all affairs of money and of religion to rights at once; but that would, +I must confess, soon take from us that amiable <i>modesty</i>, of which I +have spoken above, and which is so conspicuously shown in our works of +free trade and liberality.</p> + +<p>The weather is clearing up; our horses are saddled, and we are off.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RIDE, FROM BURGHCLERE TO PETERSFIELD.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Hurstbourne Tarrant (or Uphusband),<br />Monday, 7th November 1825.</i></p> + +<p>We came off from Burghclere yesterday afternoon, crossing Lord +Caernarvon’s park, going out of it on the west side of Beacon Hill, and +sloping away to our right over the downs towards Woodcote. The afternoon +was singularly beautiful. The downs (even the poorest of them) are +perfectly green; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> sheep on the downs look, this year, like fatting +sheep: we came through a fine flock of ewes, and, looking round us, we +saw, all at once, seven flocks, on different parts of the downs, each +flock on an average containing at least 500 sheep.</p> + +<p>It is about six miles from Burghclere to this place; and we made it +about twelve; not in order to avoid the turnpike-road, but because we do +not ride about to <i>see</i> turnpike-roads; and, moreover, because I had +seen this most monstrously hilly turnpike-road before. We came through a +village called Woodcote, and another called Binley. I never saw any +inhabited places more recluse than these. Yet into these the +all-searching eye of the taxing Thing reaches. Its Exciseman can tell it +what is doing even in the little odd corner of Binley; for even there I +saw, over the door of a place, not half so good as the place in which my +fowls roost, “<i>Licensed to deal in tea and tobacco</i>.” Poor, half-starved +wretches of Binley! The hand of taxation, the collection for the +sinecures and pensions, must fix its nails even in them, who really +appeared too miserable to be called by the name of <i>people</i>. Yet there +was one whom the taxing Thing had licensed (good God! <i>licensed!</i>) to +serve out cat-lap to these wretched creatures! And our impudent and +ignorant newspaper scribes talk of the <i>degraded state of the people of +Spain</i>! Impudent impostors! Can they show a group so wretched, so +miserable, so truly enslaved as this, in all Spain? No: and those of +them who are not sheer fools know it well. But there would have been +misery equal to this in Spain if the Jews and Jobbers could have carried +the Bond-scheme into effect. The people of Spain were, through the +instrumentality of patriot loan-makers, within an inch of being made as +“enlightened” as the poor, starving things of Binley. They would soon +have had people “licensed” to make them pay the Jews for permission to +chew tobacco, or to have a light in their dreary abodes. The people of +Spain were preserved from this by the French army, for which the Jews +cursed the French army; and the same army put an end to those “bonds,” +by means of which <i>pious</i> Protestants hoped to be able to get at the +convents in Spain, and thereby put down “idolatry” in that country. +These bonds seem now not to be worth a farthing; and so after all the +Spanish people will have no one “licensed” by the Jews to make them pay +for turning the fat of their sheep into candles and soap. These poor +creatures that I behold here <i>pass their lives amidst flocks of sheep</i>; +but never does a morsel of mutton enter their lips. A labouring man told +me, at Binley, that he had not tasted meat since harvest; and his looks +vouched for the statement. Let the Spaniards come and look at this poor, +shotten-herring of a creature; and then let them estimate what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> is due +to a set of “enlightening” and loan-making “patriots.” Old Fortescue +says that “the English are clothed in good woollens throughout,” and +that they have “plenty of flesh of all sorts to eat.” Yes; but at this +time the nation was not mortgaged. The “enlightening” patriots would +have made Spain what England now is. The people must never more, after a +few years, have tasted mutton, though living surrounded with flocks of +sheep.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Easton, near Winchester,<br />Wednesday Evening, 9th Nov.</i></p> + +<p>I intended to go from Uphusband to Stonehenge, thence to Old Sarum, and +thence through the New Forest, to Southampton and Botley, and thence +across into Sussex, to see Up-Park and Cowdry House. But, then, there +must be no loss of time: I must adhere to a certain route as strictly as +a regiment on a march. I had written the route: and Laverstock, after +seeing Stonehenge and Old Sarum, was to be the resting-place of +yesterday (Tuesday); but when it came, it brought rain with it after a +white frost on Monday. It was likely to rain again to-day. It became +necessary to change the route, as I must get to London by a certain day; +and as the first day, on the new route, brought us here.</p> + +<p>I had been three times at Uphusband before, and had, as my readers will, +perhaps, recollect, described the bourn here, or the <i>brook</i>. It has, in +general, no water at all in it from August to March. There is the bed of +a little river; but no water. In March, or thereabouts, the water begins +to boil up in thousands upon thousands of places, in the little narrow +meadows, just above the village; that is to say a little higher up the +valley. When the chalk hills are full; when the chalk will hold no more +water; then it comes out at the lowest spots near these immense hills +and becomes a rivulet first, and then a river. But until this visit to +Uphusband (or Hurstbourne Tarrant, as the map calls it), little did I +imagine that this rivulet, dry half the year, was the head of the river +Teste, which, after passing through Stockbridge and Rumsey, falls into +the sea near Southampton.</p> + +<p>We had to follow the bed of this river to Bourne; but there the water +begins to appear; and it runs all the year long about a mile lower down. +Here it crosses Lord Portsmouth’s out-park, and our road took us the +same way to the village called Down Husband, the scene (as the +broad-sheet tells us) of so many of that Noble Lord’s ringing and +cart-driving exploits. Here we crossed the London and Andover road, and +leaving Andover to our right and Whitchurch to our left, we came on to +Long Parish, where, crossing the water, we came up again on that high +country which continues all across to Winchester. After passing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>Bullington, Sutton, and Wonston, we veered away from Stoke-Charity, and +came across the fields to the high down, whence you see Winchester, or +rather the Cathedral; for at this distance you can distinguish nothing +else clearly.</p> + +<p>As we had to come to this place, which is three miles <i>up</i> the river +Itchen from Winchester, we crossed the Winchester and Basingstoke road +at King’s Worthy. This brought us, before we crossed the river, along +through Martyr’s Worthy, so long the seat of the Ogles, and now, as I +observed in my last Register, sold to a general or colonel. These Ogles +had been deans, I believe; or prebends, or something of that sort: and +the one that used to live here had been, and was when he died, an +“admiral.” However, this last one, “Sir Charles,” the loyal address +mover, is my man for the present. We saw, down by the water-side, +opposite to “Sir Charles’s” <i>late</i> family mansion, a beautiful +strawberry garden, capable of being watered by a branch of the Itchen +which comes close by it, and which is, I suppose, brought there on +purpose. Just by, on the greensward, under the shade of very fine trees, +is an alcove, wherein to sit to eat the strawberries, coming from the +little garden just mentioned, and met by bowls of cream coming from a +little milk-house, shaded by another clump a little lower down the +stream. What delight! What a terrestrial paradise! “Sir Charles” might +be very frequently in this paradise, while that Sidmouth, whose Bill he +so applauded, had many men shut up in loathsome dungeons! Ah, well! “Sir +Charles,” those very men may, perhaps, at this moment, envy neither you +nor Sidmouth; no, nor Sidmouth’s son and heir, even though Clerk of the +Pells. At any rate it is not likely that “Sir Charles” will sit again in +this paradise contemplating another <i>loyal address</i>, to carry to a +county meeting ready engrossed on parchment, to be presented by Fleming +and supported by Lockhart and the “Hampshire parsons.”</p> + +<p>I think I saw, as I came along, the new owner of the estate. It seems +that he bought it “stock and fluke” as the sailors call it; that is to +say, that he bought moveables and the whole. He appeared to me to be a +keen man. I can’t find out where he comes from, or what he or his father +has been. I like to see the revolution going on; but I like to be able +to trace the parties a little more <i>closely</i>. “Sir Charles,” the loyal +address gentleman, lives in London, I hear. I will, I think, call upon +him (if I can find him out) when I get back, and ask how he does now? +There is one Hollest, a George Hollest, who figured pretty bigly on that +same loyal address day. This man is become quite an inoffensive harmless +creature. If we were to have another county meeting, he would not, I +think, threaten to put the sash down upon anybody’s head! Oh! Peel, +Peel, Peel! Thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> Bill, oh, Peel, did sicken them so! Let us, oh, thou +offspring of the great Spinning Jenny promoter, who subscribed ten +thousand pounds towards the late “glorious” war; who was, after that, +made a Baronet, and whose biographers (in the Baronetage) tell the world +that he had a “presentiment that he should be the founder of a family.” +Oh, thou, thou great Peel, do thou let us have only two more years of +thy Bill! Or, oh, great Peel, Minister of the interior, do thou let us +have repeal of Corn Bill! Either will do, great Peel. We shall then see +such <i>modest</i> ’squires, and parsons looking so queer! However, if thou +wilt not listen to us, great Peel, we must, perhaps (and only perhaps), +wait a little longer. It is sure to come <i>at last</i>, and to come, too, in +the most efficient way.</p> + +<p>The water in the Itchen is, they say, famed for its clearness. As I was +crossing the river the other day, at Avington, I told Richard to look at +it, and I asked him if he did not think it very clear. I now find that +this has been remarked by very ancient writers. I see, in a newspaper +just received, an account of dreadful fires in New Brunswick. It is +curious that in my Register of the 29th October (dated from Chilworth in +Surrey) I should have put a question relative to the White-Clover, the +Huckleberries, or the Raspberries, which start up after the burning down +of woods in America. These fires have been at two places which I saw +when there were hardly any people in the whole country; and if there +never had been any people there to this day it would have been a good +thing for England. Those colonies are a dead expense, without a +possibility of their ever being of any use. There are, I see, a church +and a barrack destroyed. And why a barrack? What! were there bayonets +wanted already to keep the people in order? For as to an <i>enemy</i>, where +was he to come from? And if there really be an enemy anywhere there +about, would it not be a wise way to leave the worthless country to him, +to use it after his own way? I was at that very Fredericton, where they +say thirty houses and thirty-nine barns have now been burnt. I can +remember when there was no more thought of there ever being a barn there +than there is now thought of there being economy in our Government. The +English money used to be spent prettily in that country. What do <i>we</i> +want with armies and barracks and chaplains in those woods? What does +anybody want with them; but <i>we</i>, above all the rest of the world? There +is nothing there, no house, no barrack, no wharf, nothing, but what is +bought with taxes raised on the half-starving people of England. What do +<i>we</i> want with these wildernesses? Ah! but they are wanted by creatures +who will not work in England, and whom this fine system of ours sends +out into those woods to live in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> idleness upon the fruit of English +labour. The soldier, the commissary, the barrack-master, all the whole +tribe, no matter under what <i>name</i>; what keeps them? They are paid “by +Government;” and I wish that we constantly bore in mind that the +“Government” pays <i>our</i> money. It is, to be sure, sorrowful to hear of +such fires and such dreadful effects proceeding from them; but to me it +is beyond all measure <i>more sorrowful</i> to see <i>the labourers of England +worse fed than the convicts in the gaols</i>; and I know very well that +these worthless and jobbing colonies have assisted to bring England into +this horrible state. The honest labouring man is allowed (aye, by the +magistrates) less food than the felon in the gaol; and the felon is +clothed and has fuel; and the labouring man has nothing allowed for +these. These worthless colonies, which find places for people that the +Thing provides for, have helped to produce this dreadful state in +England. Therefore, any <i>assistance</i> the sufferers should never have +from me, while I could find an honest and industrious English labourer +(unloaded with a family too) fed worse than a felon in the gaols; and +this I can find in every part of the country.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Petersfield, Friday Evening,<br />11th November.</i></p> + +<p>We lost another day at Easton; the whole of yesterday, it having rained +the whole day; so that we could not have come an inch but in the wet. We +started, therefore, this morning, coming through the Duke of +Buckingham’s Park, at Avington, which is close by Easton, and on the +same side of the Itchen. This is a very beautiful place. The house is +close down at the edge of the meadow land; there is a lawn before it, +and a pond, supplied by the Itchen, at the end of the lawn, and bounded +by the park on the other side. The high road, through the park, goes +very near to this water; and we saw thousands of wild-ducks in the pond, +or sitting round on the green edges of it, while, on one side of the +pond, the hares and pheasants were moving about upon a gravel walk on +the side of a very fine plantation. We looked down upon all this from a +rising ground, and the water, like a looking-glass, showed us the trees, +and even the animals. This is certainly one of the very prettiest spots +in the world. The wild water-fowl seem to take particular delight in +this place. There are a great many at Lord Caernarvon’s; but there the +water is much larger, and the ground and wood about it comparatively +rude and coarse. Here, at Avington, everything is in such beautiful +order; the lawn before the house is of the finest green, and most neatly +kept; and the edge of the pond (which is of several acres) is as smooth +as if it formed part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> of a bowling-green. To see so many <i>wild</i>-fowl in +a situation where everything is in the <i>parterre</i>-order has a most +pleasant effect on the mind; and Richard and I, like Pope’s cock in the +farmyard, could not help <i>thanking</i> the Duke and Duchess for having +generously made such ample provision for our pleasure, and that, too, +merely to please us as we were passing along. Now this is the advantage +of going about on <i>horseback</i>. On foot the fatigue is too great, and you +go too slowly. In any sort of carriage you cannot get into the <i>real +country places</i>. To travel in stage coaches is to be hurried along by +force, in a box, with an air-hole in it, and constantly exposed to +broken limbs, the <i>danger</i> being much greater than that of ship-board, +and the <i>noise</i> much more disagreeable, while the <i>company</i> is +frequently not a great deal more to one’s liking.</p> + +<p>From this beautiful spot we had to mount gradually the downs to the +southward; but it is impossible to quit the vale of the Itchen without +one more look back at it. To form a just estimate of its real value, and +that of the lands near it, it is only necessary to know that from its +source at Bishop’s Sutton this river has, on its two banks, in the +distance of nine miles (before it reaches Winchester) thirteen parish +churches. There must have been some <i>people</i> to erect these churches. It +is not true, then, that Pitt and George III. <i>created the English +nation</i>, notwithstanding all that the Scotch <i>feelosofers</i> are ready to +swear about the matter. In short, there can be no doubt in the mind of +any rational man that in the time of the Plantagenets England was, out +of all comparison, more populous than it is now.</p> + +<p>When we began to get up towards the downs, we, to our great surprise, +saw them covered with <i>Snow</i>. “Sad times coming on for poor Sir Glory,” +said I to Richard. “Why?” said Dick. It was too cold to talk much; and, +besides, a great sluggishness in his horse made us both rather serious. +The horse had been too hard ridden at Burghclere, and had got cold. This +made us change our route again, and instead of going over the downs +towards Hambledon, in our way to see the park and the innumerable hares +and pheasants of Sir Harry Featherstone, we pulled away more to the +left, to go through Bramdean, and so on to Petersfield, contracting +greatly our intended circuit. And, besides, I had never seen Bramdean, +the spot on which, it is said, Alfred fought his last great and glorious +battle with the Danes. A fine country for a battle, sure enough! We +stopped at the village to bait our horses; and while we were in the +public-house an Exciseman came and rummaged it all over, taking an +account of the various sorts of liquor in it, having the air of a +complete master of the premises, while a very pretty and modest girl +waited on him to produce the divers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> bottles, jars, and kegs. I wonder +whether Alfred had a thought of anything like this when he was clearing +England from her oppressors?</p> + +<p>A little to our right, as we came along, we left the village of +Kingston, where ’Squire Græme once lived, as was before related. Here, +too, lived a ’Squire Ridge, a famous fox-hunter, at a great mansion, now +used as a farmhouse; and it is curious enough that this ’Squire’s +son-in-law, one Gunner, an attorney at Bishop’s Waltham, is steward to +the man who now owns the estate.</p> + +<p>Before we got to Petersfield we called at an old friend’s and got some +bread and cheese and small beer, which we preferred to strong. In +approaching Petersfield we began to descend from the high chalk-country, +which (with the exception of the valleys of the Itchen and the Teste) +had lasted us from Uphusband (almost the north-west point of the county) +to this place, which is not far from the south-east point of it. Here we +quit flint and chalk and downs, and take to sand, clay, hedges, and +coppices; and here, on the verge of Hampshire, we begin again to see +those endless little bubble-formed hills that we before saw round the +foot of Hindhead. We have got in in very good time, and got, at the +Dolphin, good stabling for our horses. The waiters and people at inns +<i>look so hard at us</i> to see us so liberal as to horse-feed, fire, +candle, beds, and room, while we are so very very sparing in the article +of <i>drink</i>! They seem to pity our taste. I hear people complain of the +“exorbitant charges” at inns; but my wonder always is how the people can +live with charging so little. Except in one single instance, I have +uniformly, since I have been from home, thought the charges too low for +people to live by.</p> + +<p>This long evening has given me time to look at the Star newspaper of +last night; and I see that, with all possible desire to disguise the +fact, there is a great “<i>panic</i>” brewing. It is impossible that this +thing can go on, in its present way, for any length of time. The talk +about “speculations”; that is to say, adventurous dealings, or, rather, +commercial gamblings; the talk about <i>these</i> having been the cause of +the breakings and the other symptoms of approaching convulsion is the +most miserable nonsense that ever was conceived in the heads of idiots. +These are <i>effect</i>; not <i>cause</i>. The cause is the <i>Small-note Bill</i>, +that last brilliant effort of the joint mind of Van and Castlereagh. +That Bill was, as I always called it, a <i>respite</i>; and it was, and could +be, nothing more. It could only put off the evil hour; it could not +prevent the final arrival of that hour. To have proceeded with Peel’s +Bill was, indeed, to produce total convulsion. The land must have been +surrendered to the overseers for the use of the poor. That is to say, +without an “Equitable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> Adjustment.” But that adjustment as prayed for by +Kent, Norfolk, Hereford, and Surrey, might have taken place; it <i>ought</i> +to have taken place: and it must, at last, take place, or, convulsion +must come. As to the <i>nature</i> of this “adjustment,” is it not most +distinctly described in the Norfolk Petition? Is not that memorable +petition now in the Journals of the House of Commons? What more is +wanted than to act on the prayer of that very petition? Had I to draw up +a petition again, I would not change a single word of that. It pleased +Mr. Brougham’s “best public instructor” to abuse that petition, and it +pleased Daddy Coke and the Hickory Quaker, Gurney, and the wise +barn-orator, to calumniate its author. They succeeded; but their success +was but shame to them; and that author is yet destined to triumph over +them. I have seen no London paper for ten days until to-day; and I +should not have seen this if the waiter had not forced it upon me. I +know <i>very nearly</i> what will happen by <i>next May</i>, or thereabouts; and +as to the manner in which things will work in the meanwhile, it is of +far less consequence to the nation than it is what sort of weather I +shall have to ride in to-morrow. One thing, however, I wish to observe, +and that is, that, if any attempt be made to repeal the <i>Corn-Bill</i>, the +main body of the farmers will be crushed into total ruin. I come into +<i>contact</i> with few who are not gentlemen or very substantial farmers; +but I know the state of the <i>whole</i>; and I know that, even with present +prices, and with <i>honest labourers fed worse than felons</i>, it is +<i>rub-and-go</i> with nineteen-twentieths of the farmers; and of this fact I +beseech the ministers to be well aware. And with this fact staring them +in the face! with that other horrid fact, that, by the regulations of +the <i>magistrates</i> (who cannot avoid it, mind,), the honest labourer is +fed worse than the convicted felon; with the breakings of merchants, so +ruinous to confiding foreigners, so disgraceful to the name of England; +with the thousands of industrious and care-taking creatures reduced to +beggary by bank-paper; with panic upon panic, plunging thousands upon +thousands into despair: with all this notorious as the Sun at noon-day, +will they again advise their Royal Master to tell the Parliament and the +world that this country is “in a state of unequalled prosperity,” and +that this prosperity “must be permanent, because <i>all</i> the great +interests are <i>flourishing</i>?” Let them! That will not alter the +<i>result</i>. I had been, for several weeks, saying that the <i>seeming +prosperity</i> was <i>fallacious</i>; that the cause of it must lead to +<i>ultimate</i> and shocking ruin; that it could not last, because it arose +from causes so manifestly <i>fictitious</i>; that, in short, it was the +fair-looking, but poisonous, fruit of a miserable expedient. I had been +saying this for several weeks, when, out came the King’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> Speech and +gave me and my doctrines the <i>lie direct</i> as to every point. Well: now, +then, we shall <i>soon see</i>.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RURAL RIDE FROM PETERSFIELD TO KENSINGTON.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Petworth,<br />Saturday, 12th Nov. 1825.</i></p> + +<p>I was at this town in the summer of 1823, when I crossed Sussex from +Worth to Huntington in my way to Titchfield in Hampshire. We came this +morning from Petersfield, with an intention to cross to Horsham, and go +thence to Worth, and then into Kent; but Richard’s horse seemed not to +be fit for so strong a bout, and therefore we resolved to bend our +course homewards, and first of all to fall back upon our resources at +Thursley, which we intend to reach to-morrow, going through North +Chapel, Chiddingfold, and Brook.</p> + +<p>At about four miles from Petersfield we passed through a village called +Rogate. Just before we came to it I asked a man who was hedging on the +side of the road how much he got a day. He said, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>: and he +told me that the <i>allowed</i> wages was 7<i>d.</i> a day for the man <i>and a +gallon loaf a week for the rest of his family</i>; that is to say, one +pound and two and a quarter ounces of bread for each of them; and +nothing more! And this, observe, is one-third short of the bread +allowance of gaols, to say nothing of the meat and clothing and lodging +of the inhabitants of gaols. If the man have full work; if he get his +eighteen-pence a day, the whole nine shillings does not purchase a +gallon loaf each for a wife and three children, and two gallon loaves +for himself. In the gaols the convicted felons have a pound and a half +each of bread a day to begin with: they have some meat generally, and it +has been found absolutely necessary to allow them meat when they work at +the tread-mill. It is impossible to make them work at the tread-mill +without it. However, let us take the bare allowance of bread allowed in +the gaols. This allowance is, for five people, fifty-two pounds and a +half in the week; whereas the man’s nine shillings will buy but +fifty-two pounds of bread; and this, observe, is a vast deal better than +the state of things in the north of Hampshire, where the day-labourer +gets but eight shillings a week. I asked this man how much a day they +gave to a young able man who had no family, and who was compelled to +come to the parish-officers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> for work. Observe that there are a great +many young men in this situation, because the farmers will not employ +single men <i>at full wages</i>, these full wages being wanted for the +married man’s family, just to keep them alive according to the +calculation that we have just seen. About the borders of the north of +Hampshire they give to these single men two gallon loaves a week, or, in +money, two shillings and eight-pence, and nothing more. Here, in this +part of Sussex, they give the single man seven-pence a day, that is to +say, enough to buy two pounds and a quarter of bread for six days in the +week, and as he does not work on the Sunday there is no seven-pence +allowed for the Sunday, and of course nothing to eat: and this is the +allowance, settled by the magistrates, for a young, hearty, labouring +man; and that, too, in the part of England where, I believe, they live +better than in any other part of it. The poor creature here has +seven-pence a day for six days in the week to find him food, clothes, +washing, and lodging! It is just seven-pence, less than one half of what +the meanest foot soldier in the standing army receives; besides that the +latter has clothing, candle, fire, and lodging into the bargain! Well +may we call our happy state of things the “envy of surrounding nations, +and the admiration of the world!” We hear of the efforts of Mrs. Fry, +Mr. Buxton, and numerous other persons, to improve the situation of +felons in the gaols; but never, no never, do we catch them ejaculating +one single pious sigh for these innumerable sufferers, who are doomed to +become felons or to waste away their bodies by hunger.</p> + +<p>When we came into the village of Rogate, I saw a little group of persons +standing before a blacksmith’s shop. The church-yard was on the other +side of the road, surrounded by a low wall. The earth of the church-yard +was about four feet and a half higher than the common level of the +ground round about it; and you may see, by the nearness of the church +windows to the ground, that this bed of earth has been made by the +innumerable burials that have taken place in it. The group, consisting +of the blacksmith, the wheelwright, perhaps, and three or four others, +appeared to me to be in a deliberative mood. So I said, looking +significantly at the church-yard, “It has taken a pretty many thousands +of your fore-fathers to raise that ground up so high.” “Yes, Sir,” said +one of them. “And,” said I, “for about nine hundred years those who +built that church thought about religion very differently from what we +do.” “Yes,” said another. “And,” said I, “do you think that all those +who made that heap there are gone to the devil?” I got no answer to +this. “At any rate,” added I, “they never worked for a pound and a half +of bread a day.” They looked hard at me, and then looked hard at one +another; and I, having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> trotted off, looked round at the first turning, +and saw them looking after us still. I should suppose that the church +was built about seven or eight hundred years ago, that is to say, the +present church; for the first church built upon this spot was, I dare +say, erected more than a thousand years ago. If I had had time, I should +have told this group that, before the Protestant Reformation, the +labourers of Rogate received four-pence a day from Michaelmas to +Lady-day; five-pence a day from Lady-day to Michaelmas, except in +harvest and grass-mowing time, when able labourers had seven-pence a +day; and that, at this time, bacon was <i>not so much as a halfpenny a +pound</i>: and, moreover, that the parson of the parish maintained out of +the tithes all those persons in the parish that were reduced to +indigence by means of old age or other cause of inability to labour. I +should have told them this, and, in all probability a great deal more, +but I had not time; and, besides, they will have an opportunity of +reading all about it in my little book called the <i>History of the +Protestant Reformation</i>.</p> + +<p>From Rogate we came on to Trotten, where a Mr. Twyford is the squire, +and where there is a very fine and ancient church close by the squire’s +house. I saw the squire looking at some poor devils who were making +“wauste improvements, ma’am,” on the road which passes by the squire’s +door. He looked uncommonly hard at me. It was a scrutinizing sort of +look, mixed, as I thought, with a little surprise, if not of jealousy, +as much as to say, “I wonder who the devil you can be?” My look at the +squire was with the head a little on one side, and with the cheek drawn +up from the left corner of the mouth, expressive of anything rather than +a sense of inferiority to the squire, of whom, however, I had never +heard speak before. Seeing the good and commodious and capacious church, +I could not help reflecting on the intolerable baseness of this +description of men, who have remained mute as fishes, while they have +been taxed to build churches for the convenience of the Cotton-Lords and +the Stock-Jobbers. First, their estates have been taxed to pay interest +of debts contracted with these Stock-jobbers, and to make wars for the +sale of the goods of the Cotton-Lords. This drain upon their estates has +collected the people into great masses, and now the same estates are +taxed to build churches for them in these masses. And yet the tame +fellows remain as silent as if they had been born deaf and dumb and +blind. As towards the labourers, they are sharp and vigorous and brave +as heart could wish; here they are bold as Hector. They pare down the +wretched souls to what is below gaol allowance. But, as towards the +taxers, they are gentle as doves. With regard, however, to this Squire +Twyford, he is not, as I afterwards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> found, without some little +consolation; for one of his sons, I understand, is, like squire +Rawlinson of Hampshire, <i>a police justice in London</i>! I hear that Squire +Twyford was always a distinguished champion of loyalty; what they call a +staunch friend of Government; and it is therefore natural that the +Government should be a staunch friend to him. By the taxing of his +estate, and paying the Stock-Jobbers out of the proceeds, the people +have been got together in great masses, and, as there are Justices +wanted to keep them in order in those masses, it seems but reasonable +that the squire should, in one way or another, enjoy some portion of the +profits of keeping them in order. However, this cannot be the case with +every loyal squire; and there are many of them who, for want of a share +in the distribution, have been totally extinguished. I should suppose +Squire Twyford to be in the second rank upwards (dividing the whole of +the proprietors of land into five ranks). It appears to me that pretty +nearly the whole of this second rank is gone; that the Stock-Jobbers +have eaten them clean up, having less mercy than the cannibals, who +usually leave the hands and the feet; so that this squire has had pretty +good luck.</p> + +<p>From Trotten we came to Midhurst, and, having baited our horses, went +into Cowdry Park to see the ruins of that once noble mansion, from which +the Countess of Salisbury (the last of the Plantagenets) was brought by +the tyrant Henry the Eighth to be cruelly murdered, in revenge for the +integrity and the other great virtues of her son, Cardinal Pole, as we +have seen in Number Four, paragraph 115, of the “History of the +Protestant Reformation.” This noble estate, one of the finest in the +whole kingdom, was seized on by the king, after the possessor had been +murdered on his scaffold. She had committed no crime. No crime was +proved against her. The miscreant Thomas Cromwell, finding that no form +of trial would answer his purpose, invented a new mode of bringing +people to their death; namely, a Bill, brought into Parliament, +condemning her to death. The estate was then granted to a Sir Anthony +Brown, who was physician to the king. By the descendants of this Brown, +one of whom was afterwards created Lord Montague, the estate has been +held to this day; and Mr. Poyntz, who married the sole remaining heiress +of this family, a Miss Brown, is now the proprietor of the estate, +comprising, I believe, <i>forty or fifty manors</i>, the greater part of +which are in this neighbourhood, some of them, however, extending more +than twenty miles from the mansion. We entered the park through a great +iron gateway, part of which being wanting, the gap was stopped up by a +hurdle. We rode down to the house and all round about and in amongst the +ruins, now in part covered with ivy, and inhabited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> by innumerable +starlings and jackdaws. The last possessor was, I believe, that Lord +Montague who was put an end to by the celebrated <i>nautical adventure</i> on +the Rhine along with the brother of Sir Glory. These two sensible +worthies took it into their heads to go down a place something +resembling the waterfall of an overshot mill. They were drowned just as +two young kittens or two young puppies would have been. And as an +instance of the truth that it is an ill wind that blows nobody good, had +it not been for this sensible enterprise, never would there have been a +Westminster Rump to celebrate the talents and virtues of Westminster’s +Pride and England’s Glory. It was this Lord Montague, I believe, who had +this ancient and noble mansion completely repaired, and fitted up as a +place of residence: and a few days, or a very few weeks, at any rate, +after the work was completed, the house was set on fire (by accident, I +suppose), and left nearly in the state in which it now stands, except +that the ivy has grown up about it and partly hidden the stones from our +sight. You may see, however, the hour of the day or night at which the +fire took place; for there still remains the brass of the face of the +clock, and the hand pointing to the hour. Close by this mansion there +runs a little river which runs winding away through the valleys, and at +last falls into the Arron. After viewing the ruins, we had to return +into the turnpike road, and then enter another part of the park, which +we crossed, in order to go to Petworth. When you are in a part of this +road through the park you look down and see the house in the middle of a +very fine valley, the distant boundary of which, to the south and +south-west, is the South Down Hills. Some of the trees here are very +fine, particularly some most magnificent rows of the Spanish chestnut. I +asked the people at Midhurst where Mr. Poyntz himself lived; and they +told me at the <i>lodge</i> in the park, which lodge was formerly the +residence of the head keeper. The land is very good about here. It is +fine rich loam at top, with clay further down. It is good for all sorts +of trees, and they seem to grow here very fast.</p> + +<p>We got to Petworth pretty early in the day. On entering it you see the +house of Lord Egremont, which is close up against the park-wall, and +which wall bounds this little vale on two sides. There is a sort of +town-hall here, and on one side of it there is the bust of Charles the +Second, I should have thought; but they tell me it is that of Sir +William Wyndham, from whom Lord Egremont is descended. But there is +<i>another building</i> much more capacious and magnificent than the +town-hall; namely, the Bridewell, which, from the modernness of its +structure, appears to be one of those “wauste improvements, Ma’am,” +which distinguish this <i>enlightened</i> age. This structure vies, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> point +of magnitude with the house of Lord Egremont itself, though that is one +of the largest mansions in the whole kingdom. The Bridewell has a wall +round it that I should suppose to be twenty feet high. This place was +not wanted, when the labourer got twice as much instead of half as much +as the common standing soldier. Here you see the true cause why the +young labouring man is “<i>content</i>” to exist upon 7<i>d.</i> a day, for six +days in the week, and nothing for Sunday. Oh! we are a most free and +enlightened people; our happy constitution in church and state has +supplanted Popery and slavery; but we go to a Bridewell unless we +quietly exist and work upon 7<i>d.</i> a day!</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursley,<br />Sunday, 13th Nov.</i></p> + +<p>To our great delight we found Richard’s horse quite well this morning, +and off we set for this place. The first part of our road, for about +three miles and a half, was through Lord Egremont’s Park. The morning +was very fine; the sun shining; a sharp frost after a foggy evening; the +grass all white, the twigs of the trees white, the ponds frozen over; +and everything looking exceedingly beautiful. The spot itself being one +of the very finest in the world, not excepting, I dare say, that of the +father of Saxe Cobourg itself, who has, doubtless, many such fine +places.</p> + +<p>In a very fine pond, not far from the house and close by the road, there +are some little artificial islands, upon one of which I observed an +arbutus loaded with its beautiful fruit (quite ripe), even more thickly +than any one I ever saw even in America. There were, on the side of the +pond, a most numerous and beautiful collection of water-fowl, foreign as +well as domestic. I never saw so great a variety of water-fowl collected +together in my life. They had been ejected from the water by the frost, +and were sitting apparently in a state of great dejection: but this +circumstance has brought them into a comparatively small compass; and we +facing our horses about, sat and looked at them, at the pond, at the +grass, at the house, till we were tired of admiring. Everything here is +in the neatest and most beautiful state. Endless herds of deer, of all +the varieties of colours; and, what adds greatly to your pleasure in +such a case, you see comfortable retreats prepared for them in different +parts of the woods. When we came to what we thought the end of the park, +the gate-keeper told us that we should find other walls to pass through. +We now entered upon woods, we then came to another wall, and there we +entered upon farms to our right and to our left. At last we came to a +third wall, and the gate in that let us out into the turnpike road. The +gate-keeper here told us, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> the whole enclosure was <i>nine miles +round</i>; and this, after all, forms, probably, not a quarter part of what +this nobleman possesses. And is it wrong that one man should possess so +much? By no means; but in my opinion it is wrong that a system should +exist which compels this man to have his estate taken away from him +unless he throw the junior branches of his family for maintenance upon +the public.</p> + +<p>Lord Egremont bears an excellent character. Everything that I have ever +heard of him makes me believe that he is worthy of this princely estate. +But I cannot forget that his two brothers, who are now very old men, +have had, from their infancy, enormous revenues in sinecure places in +the West Indies, while the general property and labour of England is +taxed to maintain those West Indies in their state of dependence upon +England; and I cannot forget that the burden of these sinecures are +amongst the grievances of which the West Indians justly complain. True, +the taxing system has taken from the family of Wyndham, during the lives +of these two gentlemen, as much, and even more, than what that family +has gained by those sinecures; but then let it be recollected, that it + +is not the helpless people of England who have been the cause of this +system. It is not the fault of those who receive 7<i>d.</i> a day. It is the +fault of the family of Wyndham and of such persons; and, if they have +chosen to suffer the Jews and jobbers to take away so large a part of +their income, it is not fair for them to come to the people at large to +make up for the loss.</p> + +<p>Thus it has gone on. The great masses of property have, in general, been +able to take care of themselves: but the little masses have melted away +like butter before the sun. The little gentry have had not even any +disposition to resist. They merit their fate most justly. They have vied +with each other in endeavours to ingratiate themselves with power, and +to obtain compensation for their losses. The big fishes have had no +feeling for them; have seen them sink with a sneer, rather than with +compassion; but, at last, the cormorant threatens even themselves; and +they are struggling with might and main for their own preservation. They +everywhere “most liberally” take the Stock-jobber or the Jew by the +hand, though they hate him mortally at the same time for his power to +outdo them on the sideboard, on the table, and in the equipage. They +seem to think nothing of the extinguishment of the small fry; they hug +themselves in the thought that they escape; and yet, at times, their +minds misgive them, and they tremble for their own fate. The country +people really gain by the change; for the small gentry have been +rendered, by their miseries, so niggardly and so cruel, that it is quite +a blessing, in a village, to see a rich<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> Jew or Jobber come to supplant +them. They come, too, with far less cunning than the half-broken gentry. +Cunning as the Stock-Jobber is in Change Alley, I defy him to be cunning +enough for the country people, brought to their present state of +duplicity by a series of cruelties which no pen can adequately describe. +The Stock-Jobber goes from London with the <i>cant of humanity</i> upon his +lips, at any rate; whereas the half-broken Squire takes not the least +pains to disguise the hardness of his heart.</p> + +<p>It is impossible for any just man to regret the sweeping away of this +base race of Squires; but the sweeping of them away is produced by +causes that have a wider extent. These causes reach the good as well as +the bad: all are involved alike: like the pestilence, this horrible +system is no respecter of persons; and decay and beggary mark the whole +face of the <i>country</i>.</p> + +<p>North Chapel is a little town in the Weald of Sussex where there were +formerly post-chaises kept; but where there are none kept now. And here +is another complete revolution. In almost every country town the +post-chaise houses have been lessened in number, and those that remain +have become comparatively solitary and mean. The guests at inns are not +now gentlemen, but <i>bumpers</i>, who, from being called (at the inns) +“riders,” became “travellers,” and are now “commercial gentlemen,” who +go about in <i>gigs</i>, instead of on horseback, and who are in such numbers +as to occupy a great part of the room in all the inns, in every part of +the country. There are, probably, twenty thousand of them always out, +who may perhaps have, on an average throughout the year, three or four +thousand “ladies” travelling with them. The expense of this can be +little short of fifteen millions a year, all to be paid by the +country-people who consume the goods, and a large part of it to be drawn +up to the Wen.</p> + +<p>From North Chapel we came to Chiddingfold, which is in the Weald of +Surrey; that is to say, the country of oak-timber. Between these two +places there are a couple of pieces of that famous commodity, called +“Government property.” It seems that these places, which have extensive +buildings on them, were for the purpose of making gunpowder. Like most +other of these enterprises, they have been given up, after a time, and +so the ground and all the buildings, and the monstrous fences, erected +at enormous expense, have been sold. They were sold, it seems, some time +ago, in lots, with the intention of being pulled down and carried away, +though they are now nearly new, and built in the most solid, +substantial, and expensive manner; brick walls eighteen inches through, +and the buildings covered with lead and slate. It appears that they have +been purchased by a Mr. Stovell, a Sussex banker; but for some reason or +other,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> though the purchase was made long ago, “Government” still holds +the possession; and, what is more, it keeps people there to take care of +the premises. It would be curious to have a complete history of these +pretty establishments at Chiddingford; but this is a sort of history +that we shall never be treated with until there be somebody in +Parliament to rummage things to the bottom. It would be very easy to +call for a specific account of the cost of these establishments, and +also of the quantity of powder made at them. I should not be at all +surprised, if the concern, all taken together, brought the powder to a +hundred times the price at which similar powder could have been +purchased.</p> + +<p>When we came through Chiddingfold, the people were just going to church; +and we saw a carriage and pair conveying an old gentleman and some +ladies to the churchyard steps. Upon inquiry, we found that this was +Lord Winterton, whose name, they told us, was Turnour. I thought I had +heard of all the Lords, first or last; but, if I had ever heard of this +one before, I had forgotten him. He lives down in the Weald, between the +gunpowder establishments and Horsham, and has the reputation of being a +harmless, good sort of man, and that being the case I was sorry to see +that he appeared to be greatly afflicted with the gout, being obliged to +be helped up the steps by a stout man. However, it is as broad, perhaps, +as it is long: a man is not to have all the enjoyments of making the +gout, and the enjoyments of abstinence too: that would not be fair play; +and I dare say that Lord Winterton is just enough to be content with the +consequences of his enjoyments.</p> + +<p>This Chiddingfold is a very pretty place. There is a very pretty and +extensive green opposite the church; and we were at the proper time of +the day to perceive that the modern system of education had by no means +overlooked this little village. We saw <i>the schools</i> marching towards +the church in military order. Two of them passed us on our road. The +boys looked very hard at us, and I saluted them with “There’s brave +boys, you’ll all be parsons or lawyers or doctors.” Another school +seemed to be in a less happy state. The scholars were too much in +uniform to have had their clothes purchased by their parents; and they +looked, besides, as if a little more victuals and a little less +education would have done as well. There were about twenty of them +without one single tinge of red in their whole twenty faces. In short I +never saw more deplorable looking objects since I was born. And can it +be of any use to expend money in this sort of way upon poor creatures +that have not half a bellyful of food? We had not breakfasted when we +passed them. We felt, at that moment, what hunger was. We had some bits +of bread and meat in our pockets, however; and these, which, were merely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>intended as stay-stomachs, amounted, I dare say, to the allowance of +any half-dozen of these poor boys for the day. I could, with all my +heart, have pulled the victuals out of my pocket and given it to them; +but I did not like to do that which would have interrupted the march, +and might have been construed into a sort of insult. To quiet my +conscience, however, I gave a poor man that I met soon afterwards +sixpence, under pretence of rewarding him for telling me the way to +Thursley, which I knew as well as he, and which I had determined, in my +own mind, not to follow.</p> + +<p>We had now come on the Turnpike road from my Lord Egremont’s Park to +Chiddingfold. I had made two or three attempts to get out of it, and to +bear away to the north-west, to get through the oak-woods to Thursley; +but I was constantly prevented by being told that the road which I +wished to take would lead me to Haslemere. If you talk to ostlers, or +landlords, or post-boys; or, indeed, to almost anybody else, they mean +by a <i>road</i> a <i>turnpike road</i>; and they positively will not talk to you +about any other. Now, just after quitting Chiddingfold, Thursley lies +over fine woods and coppices, in a north-west direction, or thereabouts; +and the Turnpike road, which goes from Petworth to Godalming, goes in a +north-north-east direction. I was resolved, be the consequences what +they might, not to follow the Turnpike road one single inch further; for +I had not above three miles or thereabouts to get to Thursley, through +the woods; and I had, perhaps, six miles at least to get to it the other +way; but the great thing was to see the interior of these woods; to see +the stems of the trees, as well as the tops of them. I saw a lane +opening in the right direction; I saw indeed, that my horses must go up +to their knees in clay; but I resolved to enter and go along that lane, +and long before the end of my journey I found myself most amply +compensated for the toil that I was about to encounter. But talk of +toil! It was the horse that had the toil; and I had nothing to do but to +sit upon his back, turn my head from side to side and admire the fine +trees in every direction. Little bits of fields and meadows here and +there, shaded all over, or nearly all over, by the surrounding trees. +Here and there a labourer’s house buried in the woods. We had drawn out +our luncheons and eaten them while the horses took us through the clay; +but I stopped at a little house, and asked the woman, who looked very +clean and nice, whether she would let us dine with her. She said “Yes,” +with all her heart, but that she had no place to put our horses in, and +that her dinner would not be ready for an hour, when she expected her +husband home from church. She said they had a bit of bacon and a pudding +and some cabbage; but that she had not much bread in the house. She had +only one child, and that was not very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> old, so we left her, quite +convinced that my old observation is true, that people in the woodland +countries are best off, and that it is absolutely impossible to reduce +them to that state of starvation in which they are in the corn-growing +part of the kingdom. Here is that great blessing, abundance of fuel at +all times of the year, and particularly in the winter.</p> + +<p>We came on for about a mile further in these clayey lanes, when we +renewed our inquiries as to our course, as our road now seemed to point +towards Godalming again. I asked a man how I should get to Thursley? He +pointed to some fir-trees upon a hill, told me I must go by them, and +that there was no other way. “Where then,” said I, “is Thursley?” He +pointed with his hand, and said, “Right over those woods; but there is +no road there, and it is impossible for you to get through those woods.” +“Thank you,” said I; “but through those woods we mean to go.” Just at +the border of the woods I saw a cottage. There must be some way to that +cottage; and we soon found a gate that let us into a field, across which +we went to this cottage. We there found an old man and a young one. Upon +inquiry we found that it was <i>possible</i> to get through these woods. +Richard gave the old man threepence to buy a pint of beer, and I gave +the young one a shilling to pilot us through the woods. These were +oak-woods with underwood beneath; and there was a little stream of water +running down the middle of the woods, the annual and long overflowings +of which has formed a meadow sometimes a rod wide, and sometimes twenty +rods wide, while the bed of the stream itself was the most serpentine +that can possibly be imagined, describing, in many places, nearly a +complete circle, going round for many rods together, and coming within a +rod or two of a point that it had passed before. I stopped the man +several times, to sit and admire this beautiful spot, shaded in great +part by lofty and wide-spreading oak trees. We had to cross this brook +several times, over bridges that the owner had erected for the +convenience of the fox-hunters. At last, we came into an ash-coppice, +which had been planted in regular rows, at about four feet distances, +which had been once cut, and which was now in the state of six years’ +growth. A road through it, made for the fox-hunters, was as straight as +a line, and of so great a length, that, on entering it, the farther end +appeared not to be a foot wide. Upon seeing this, I asked the man whom +these coppices belonged to, and he told me to Squire Leech, at Lea. My +surprise ceased, but my admiration did not.</p> + +<p>A piece of ordinary coppice ground, close adjoining this, and with no +timber in it, and upon just the same soil (if there had been such a +piece), would, at ten years’ growth, be worth, at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> present prices, from +five to seven pounds the acre. This coppice, at ten years’ growth, will +be worth twenty pounds the acre; and, at the next cutting, when the +stems will send out so many more shoots, it will be worth thirty pounds +the acre. I did not ask the question when I afterwards saw Mr. Leech, +but, I dare say, the ground was trenched before it was planted; but what +is that expense when compared with the great, the permanent profit of +such an undertaking? And, above all things, what a convenient species of +property does a man here create. Here are no tenants’ rack, no anxiety +about crops and seasons; the rust and the mildew never come here; a man +knows what he has got, and he knows that nothing short of an earthquake +can take it from him, unless, indeed, by attempting to vie with the +stock-jobber in the expense of living, he enable the stock-jobber to +come and perform the office of the earthquake. Mr. Leech’s father +planted, I think it was, forty acres of such coppice in the same manner; +and, at the same time, he <i>sowed the ground with acorns</i>. The acorns +have become oak trees, and have begun and made great progress in +diminishing the value of the ash, which have now to contend against the +shade and the roots of the oak. For present profit, and, indeed, for +permanent profit, it would be judicious to grub up the oak; but the +owner has determined otherwise. He cannot endure the idea of destroying +an oak wood.</p> + +<p>If such be the profit of planting ash, what would be the profit of +planting locust, even for poles or stakes? The locust would outgrow the +ash, as we have seen in the case of Mr. Gunter’s plantation, more than +three to one. I am satisfied that it will do this upon any soil, if you +give the trees fifteen years to grow in; and, in short, that the locusts +will be trees when the ash are merely poles, if both are left to grow up +in single stems. If in coppice, the locust will make as good poles; I +mean as large and as long poles in six years, as the ash will in ten +years: to say nothing of the superior durability of the locust. I have +seen locusts, at Mr. Knowles’s, at Thursley, sufficient for a hop-pole, +for an ordinary hop-pole, with only five years’ growth in them, and +leaving the last year’s growth to be cut off, leaving the top of the +pole three-quarters of an inch through. There is nothing that we have +ever heard of, of the timber kind, equal to this in point of quickness +of growth. In parts of the county where hop-poles are not wanted, +espalier stakes, wood for small fencing, hedge stakes, hurdle stakes, +fold-shores, as the people call them, are always wanted; and is it not +better to have a thing that will last twenty years, than a thing that +will last only three? I know of no English underwood which gives a hedge +stake to last even <i>two years</i>. I should think that a very profitable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +way of employing the locust would be this. Plant a coppice, the plants +two feet apart. Thus planted, the trees will protect one another against +the wind. Keep the side shoots pruned off. At the end of six years, the +coppice, if well planted and managed, will be, at the very least, twenty +feet high to the tips of the trees. Not if the grass and weeds are +suffered to grow up to draw all the moisture up out of the ground, to +keep the air from the young plants, and to intercept the gentle rains +and the dews; but trenched ground, planted carefully, and kept clean; +and always bearing in mind that hares and rabbits and young locust trees +will never live together; for the hares and rabbits will not only bite +them off, but will gnaw them down to the ground, and, when they have +done that, will scratch away the ground to gnaw into the very root. A +gentleman bought some locust trees of me last year, and brought me a +dismal account in the summer of their being all dead; but I have since +found that they were all eaten up by the hares. He saw some of my +refuse; some of those which were too bad to send to him, which were a +great deal higher than his head. His ground was as good as mine, +according to his account; but I had no hares to fight against; or else +mine would have been all dead too.</p> + +<p>I say, then, that a locust plantation, in pretty good land, well +managed, would be twenty feet high in six years; suppose it, however, to +be only fifteen, there would be, at the bottom, wood to make two locust +PINS for ship-building; two locust pins at the bottom of each tree. Two +at the very least; and here would be twenty-two thousand locust pins to +the acre, probably enough for the building of a seventy-four gun ship. +These pins are about eighteen inches long, and, perhaps, an inch and +half through; and there is this surprising quality in the wood of the +locust, that it is just as hard and as durable at five or six years’ +growth as it is at fifty years’ growth. Of which I can produce an +abundance of instances. The <i>stake</i> which I brought home from America, +and which is now at Fleet-street, had stood as a stake for about eight +and twenty years, as certified to me by Judge Mitchell, of North +Hampstead in Long Island, who gave me the stake, and who said to me at +the time, “Now are you really going to take that crooked miserable stick +to England!” Now it is pretty well known, at least, I have been so +informed, that our Government have sent to America in consequence of my +writings about the locust, to endeavour to get locust pins for the navy. +I have been informed that they have been told that the American +Government has bought them all up. Be this as it may, I know that a +waggon load of these pins is, in America itself, equal in value to a +waggon load of barrels of the finest flour. This being undeniable, and +the fact being undeniable that we can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> grow locust pins here, that I can +take a seed to-day, and say that it shall produce two pins in seven +years’ time, will it not become an article of heavy accusation against +the Government if they neglect even one day to set about tearing up +their infernal Scotch firs and larches in Wolmer Forest and elsewhere, +and putting locust trees in their stead, in order, first to provide this +excellent material for ship-building; and next to have some fine +plantations in the Holt Forest, Wolmer Forest, the New Forest, the +Forest of Dean, and elsewhere, the only possible argument against doing +which being, that I may possibly take a ride round amongst their +plantations, and that it may be everlastingly recorded that it was I who +was the cause of the Government’s adopting this wise and beneficial +measure?</p> + +<p>I am disposed to believe, however, that the Government will not be +brutish enough, obstinately to reject the advice given to them on this +head, it being observed, however, that I wish to have no hand in their +proceedings, directly or indirectly. I can sell all the trees that I +have for sale to other customers. Let them look out for themselves; and +as to any reports that their creatures may make upon the subjects I +shall be able to produce proofs enough that such reports, if +unfavourable, are false. I wrote, in a Register from Long Island, that I +could if I would tell insolent Castlereagh, who was for making +Englishmen dig holes one day and fill them up the next, how he might +<i>profitably put something into those holes</i>, but that I would not tell +him as long as the Borough-mongers should be in the state in which they +then were. They are no longer in that state, I thank God. There has been +no positive law to alter their state, but it is manifest that there must +be such law before it be long. Events are working together to make the +country worth living in, which, for the great body of the people, is at +present hardly the case. Above all things in the world, it is the duty +of every man, who has it in his power, to do what he can to promote the +creation of materials for the building of ships in the best manner; and +it is now a fact of perfect notoriety, that, with regard to the building +of ships, it cannot be done in the best manner without the assistance of +this sort of wood.</p> + +<p>I have seen a specimen of the locust wood used in the making of +furniture. I saw it in the posts of a bed-stead; and any thing more +handsome I never saw in my life. I had used it myself in the making of +rules; but I never saw it in this shape before. It admits of a polish +nearly as fine as that of box. It is a bright and beautiful yellow. And +in bedsteads, for instance, it would last for ever, and would not become +loose at the joints, like oak and other perishable wood; because, like +the live oak and the red cedar, no worm or insect ever preys upon it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +There is no fear of the quantity being too great. It would take a +century to make as many plantations as are absolutely wanted in England. +It would be a prodigious creation of real and solid wealth. Not such a +creation as that of paper money, which only takes the dinner from one +man and gives it to another, which only gives an unnatural swell to a +city or a watering place by beggaring a thousand villages; but it would +be a creation of money’s worth things. Let any man go and look at a +farmhouse that was built a hundred years ago. He will find it, though +very well built with stone or brick, actually falling to pieces, unless +very frequently repaired, owing entirely to the rotten wood in the +window-sills, the door-sills, the plates, the pins, the door frames, the +window frames, and all those parts of the beams, the joists, and the +rafters, that come in contact with the rain or the moisture. The two +parts of a park pailing which give way first, are, the parts of the post +that meet the ground, and the pins which hold the rails to the post. +Both these rot long before the pailing rots. Now, all this is avoided by +the use of locust as sills, as joists, as posts, as frames, and as pins. +Many a roof has come down merely from the rotting of the pins. The best +of spine oak is generally chosen for these pins. But after a time, the +air gets into the pin-hole. The pin rots from the moist air, it gives +way, the wind shakes the roof, and down it comes, or it swags, the wet +gets in, and the house is rotten. In ships, the pins are the first +things that give way. Many a ship would last twenty years after it is +broken up, if put together with locust pins. I am aware that some +readers will become tired of this subject; and, nothing but my +conviction of its being of the very first importance to the whole +kingdom could make me thus dwell upon it.</p> + +<p>We got to Thursley after our beautiful ride through Mr. Leech’s +coppices, and the weather being pretty cold, we found ourselves most +happily situated here by the side of an <i>American fire-place</i>, making +extremely comfortable a room which was formerly amongst the most +uncomfortable in the world. This is another of what the malignant +parsons call Cobbett’s Quackeries. But my real opinion is that the whole +body of them, all put together, have never, since they were born, +conferred so much benefit upon the country, as I have conferred upon it +by introducing this fire-place. Mr. Judson of Kensington, who is the +manufacturer of them, tells me that he has a great demand, which gives +me much pleasure; but really, coming to conscience, no man ought to sit +by one of these fire-places that does not go the full length with me +both in politics and religion. It is not fair for them to enjoy the +warmth without subscribing to the doctrines of the giver of the warmth. +However, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> I have nothing to do with Mr. Judson’s affair, either as to +the profit or the loss, he must sell the fire-places to whomsoever he +pleases.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington,<br />Sunday, 20th Nov.</i></p> + +<p>Coming to Godalming on Friday, where business kept us that night, we had +to experience at the inn the want of our American fire-place. A large +and long room to sit in, with a miserable thing called a screen to keep +the wind from our backs, with a smoke in the room half an hour after the +fire was lighted, we, consuming a full bushel of coals in order to keep +us warm, were not half so well off as we should have been in the same +room, and without any screen, and with two gallons of coals, if we had +our American fire-place. I gave the landlord my advice upon the subject, +and he said he would go and look at the fire-place at Mr. Knowles’s. +That was precisely one of those rooms which stand in absolute need of +such a fire-place. It is, I should think, five-and-thirty, or forty feet +long, and pretty nearly twenty feet wide. I could sooner dine with a +labouring man upon his allowance of bread, such as I have mentioned +above, than I would, in winter time, dine in that room upon turbot and +sirloin of beef. An American fire-place, with a good fire in it, would +make every part of that room pleasant to dine in in the coldest day in +winter. I saw a public-house drinking-room, where the owner has tortured +his invention to get a little warmth for his guests, where he fetches +his coals in a waggon from a distance of twenty miles or thereabouts, +and where he consumes these coals by the bushel, to effect that which he +cannot effect at all, and which he might effect completely with about a +fourth part of the coals.</p> + +<p>It looked like rain on Saturday morning, we therefore sent our horses on +from Godalming to Ripley, and took a post-chaise to convey us after +them. Being shut up in the post-chaise did not prevent me from taking a +look at a little snug house stuck under the hill on the road side, just +opposite the old chapel on St. Catherine’s-hill, which house was not +there when I was a boy. I found that this house is now occupied by the +family Molyneux, for ages the owners of Losely Park, on the out-skirts +of which estate this house stands. The house at Losely is of great +antiquity, and had, or perhaps has, attached to it the great manors of +Godalming and Chiddingfold. I believe that Sir Thomas More lived at +Losely, or, at any rate, that the Molyneuxes are, in some degree, +descended from him. The estate is, I fancy, theirs yet; but here they +are, in this little house, while one Gunning (an East Indian, I +believe)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> occupies the house of their ancestors. At Send, or Sutton, +where Mr. Webb Weston inhabited, there is a Baron somebody, with a De +before his name. The name is German or Dutch, I believe. How the Baron +came there I know not; but as I have read his name amongst the <i>Justices +of the Peace</i> for the county of Surrey, he must have been born in +England, or the law has been violated in making him a Justice of the +Peace, seeing that no person not born a subject of the king, and a +subject in this country too, can lawfully hold a commission under the +crown, either civil or military. Nor is it lawful for any man born +abroad of Scotch or Irish parents, to hold such commission under the +crown, though such commissions have been held, and are held, by persons +who are neither natural-born subjects of the king, nor born of English +parents abroad. It should also be known and borne in mind by the people, +that it is unlawful to grant any pension from the crown to any foreigner +whatever. And no naturalization act can take away this disability. Yet +the Whigs, as they call themselves, granted such pensions during the +short time that they were in power.</p> + +<p>When we got to Ripley, we found the day very fine, and we got upon our +horses and rode home to dinner, after an absence of just one month, +agreeably to our original intention, having seen a great deal of the +country, having had a great deal of sport, and having, I trust, laid in +a stock of health for the winter, sufficient to enable us to withstand +the suffocation of this smoking and stinking Wen.</p> + +<p>But Richard and I have done something else, besides ride, and hunt, and +course, and stare about us, during this month. He was eleven years old +last March, and it was now time for him to begin to know something about +letters and figures. He has learned to work in the garden, and having +been a good deal in the country, knows a great deal about farming +affairs. He can ride anything of a horse, and over anything that a horse +will go over. So expert at hunting, that his first teacher, Mr. Budd, +gave the hounds up to his management in the field; but now he begins to +talk about nothing but <i>fox-hunting</i>! That is a dangerous thing. When he +and I went from home, I had business at Reigate. It was a very wet +morning, and we went off long before daylight in a post-chaise, +intending to have our horses brought after us. He began to talk in +anticipation of the sport he was going to have, and was very inquisitive +as to the probability of our meeting with fox-hounds, which gave me +occasion to address him thus: “Fox-hunting is a very fine thing, and +very proper for people to be engaged in, and it is very desirable to be +able to ride well and to be in at the death; but that is not ALL; that +is not everything. Any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> fool can ride a horse, and draw a cover; any +groom or any stable-fellow, who is as ignorant as the horse, can do +these things; but all gentlemen that go a fox-hunting [I hope God will +forgive me for the lie] are scholars, Richard. It is not the riding, nor +the scarlet coats, that make them gentlemen; it is their scholarship.” +What he thought I do not know; for he sat as mute as a fish, and I could +not see his countenance. “So,” said I, “you must now begin to learn +something, and you must begin with arithmetic.” He had learned from mere +play, to read, being first set to work of his own accord, to find out +what was said about Thurtell, when all the world was talking and reading +about Thurtell. This had induced us to give him Robinson Crusoe; and +that had made him a passable reader. Then he had scrawled down letters +and words upon paper, and had written letters to me, in the strangest +way imaginable. His knowledge of figures he had acquired from the +necessity of knowing the several numbers upon the barrels of seeds +brought from America, and the numbers upon the doors of houses. So that +I had pretty nearly a blank sheet of paper to begin upon; and I have +always held it to be stupidity to the last degree to attempt to put +book-learning into children who are too young to reason with.</p> + +<p>I began with a pretty long lecture on the utility of arithmetic; the +absolute necessity of it, in order for us to make out our accounts of +the trees and seeds that we should have to sell in the winter, and the +utter impossibility of our getting paid for our pains unless we were +able to make out our accounts, which accounts could not be made out +unless we understood something about arithmetic. Having thus made him +understand the utility of the thing, and given him a very strong +instance in the case of our nursery affairs, I proceeded to explain to +him the meaning of the word arithmetic, the power of figures, according +to the place they occupied. I then, for it was still dark, taught him to +add a few figures together, I naming the figures one after another, +while he, at the mention of each new figure said the amount, and if +incorrectly, he was corrected by me. When we had got a sum of about 24, +I said now there is another line of figures on the left of this, and +therefore you are to put down the 4 and carry 2. “What is <i>carrying</i>?” +said he. I then explained to him the <i>why</i> and the <i>wherefore</i> of this, +and he perfectly understood me at once. We then did several other little +sums; and, by the time we got to Sutton, it becoming daylight, I took a +pencil and set him a little sum upon paper, which, after making a +mistake or two, he did very well. By the time we got to Reigate he had +done several more, and at last, a pretty long one, with very few errors. +We had business all day, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> thought no more of our scholarship until +we went to bed, and then we did, in our post-chaise fashion, a great +many lines in arithmetic before we went to sleep. Thus we went on mixing +our riding and hunting with our arithmetic, until we quitted Godalming, +when he did a sum very nicely in <i>multiplication of money</i>, falling a +little short of what I had laid out, which was to make him learn the +four rules in whole numbers first, and then in money, before I got home.</p> + +<p>Friends’ houses are not so good as inns for executing a project like +this; because you cannot very well be by yourself; and we slept but four +nights at inns during our absence. So that we have actually stolen the +time to accomplish this job, and Richard’s Journal records that he was +more than fifteen days out of the thirty-one coursing or hunting. +Nothing struck me more than the facility, the perfect readiness with +which he at once performed addition of money. There is a <i>pence table</i> +which boys usually learn, and during the learning of which they usually +get no small number of thumps. This table I found it wholly unnecessary +to set him. I had written it for him in one of the leaves of his journal +book. But, upon looking at it, he said, “I don’t want this, because, you +know, I have nothing to do but to <i>divide by twelve</i>.” That is right, +said I, you are a clever fellow, Dick; and I shut up the book.</p> + +<p>Now, when there is so much talk about education, let me ask how many +pounds it generally costs parents to have a boy taught this much of +arithmetic; how much time it costs also; and, which is a far more +serious consideration, how much mortification, and very often how much +loss of health, it costs the poor scolded broken-hearted child, who +becomes dunder-headed and dull for all his life-time, merely because +that has been imposed upon him as a task which he ought to regard as an +object of pleasant pursuit. I never even once desired him to stay a +moment from any other thing that he had a mind to go at. I just wrote +the sums down upon paper, laid them upon the table, and left him to +tackle them when he pleased. In the case of the multiplication-table, +the learning of which is something of a job, and which it is absolutely +necessary to learn perfectly, I advised him to go up into his bed-room +and read it twenty times over out loud every morning before he went a +hunting, and ten times over every night after he came back, till it all +came as pat upon his lips as the names of persons that he knew. He did +this, and at the end of about a week he was ready to set on upon +multiplication. It is the irksomeness of the thing which is the great +bar to learning of every sort. I took care not to suffer irksomeness to +seize his mind for a moment, and the consequence was that which I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +described. I wish clearly to be understood as ascribing nothing to +extraordinary <i>natural</i> ability. There are, as I have often said, as +many <i>sorts</i> of men as there are of dogs; but I do not pretend to be of +any peculiarly excellent sort, and I have never discovered any +indications of it. There are, to be sure, sorts that are naturally +stupid; but, the generality of men are not so; and I believe that every +boy of the same age, equally healthy, and brought up in the same manner, +would (unless of one of the stupid kinds) learn in just the same sort of +way; but not if begun to be thumped at five or six years old, when the +poor little things have no idea of the utility of anything; who are +hardly sensible beings, and have but just understanding enough to know +that it will hurt them if they jump down a chalk pit. I am sure, from +thousands of instances that have come under my own eyes, that to begin +to teach children book-learning before they are capable of reasoning, is +the sure and certain way to enfeeble their minds for life; and, if they +have natural genius, to cramp, if not totally to destroy that genius.</p> + +<p>I think I shall be tempted to mould into a little book these lessons of +arithmetic given to Richard. I think that a boy of sense, and of age +equal to that of my scholar, would derive great profit from such a +little book. It would not be equal to my verbal explanations, especially +accompanied with the other parts of my conduct towards my scholar; but +at any rate, it would be plain; it would be what a boy could understand; +it would encourage him by giving him a glimpse at the reasons for what +he was doing: it would contain principles; and the difference between +principles and rules is this, that the former are persuasions and the +latter are commands. There is a great deal of difference between +carrying 2 for such and such a reason, and carrying 2 because you <i>must</i> +carry 2. You see boys that can cover reams of paper with figures, and do +it with perfect correctness too; and at the same time, can give you not +a single reason for any part of what they have done. Now this is really +doing very little. The rule is soon forgotten, and then all is +forgotten. It would be the same with a lawyer that understood none of +the principles of law. As far as he could find and remember cases +exactly similar in all their parts to the case which he might have to +manage, he would be as profound a lawyer as any in the world; but if +there was the slightest difference between his case and the cases he had +found upon record, there would be an end of his law.</p> + +<p>Some people will say, here is a monstrous deal of vanity and egotism; +and if they will tell me, how such a story is to be told without +exposing a man to this imputation, I will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> adopt their mode another +time. I get nothing by telling the story. I should get full as much by +keeping it to myself; but it may be useful to others, and therefore I +tell it. Nothing is so dangerous as supposing that you have eight +wonders of the world. I have no pretensions to any such possession. I +look upon my boy as being like other boys in general. Their fathers can +teach arithmetic as well as I; and if they have not a mind to pursue my +method, they must pursue their own. Let them apply to the outside of the +head and to the back, if they like; let them bargain for thumps and the +birch rod; it is their affair and not mine. I never yet saw in my house +a child that was <i>afraid</i>; that was in any fear whatever; that was ever +for a moment under any sort of apprehension, on account of the learning +of anything; and I never in my life gave a command, an order, a request, +or even advice, to look into any book; and I am quite satisfied that the +way to make children dunces, to make them detest books, and justify that +detestation, is to tease them and bother them upon the subject.</p> + +<p>As to the <i>age</i> at which children ought to begin to be taught, it is +very curious, that, while I was at a friend’s house during my ride, I +looked into, by mere accident, a little child’s abridgment of the +History of England: a little thing about twice as big as a crown-piece. +Even into this abridgment the historian had introduced the circumstance +of Alfred’s father, who, “through a <i>mistaken notion</i> of kindness to his +son, had suffered him to live to the age of twelve years without any +attempt being made to give him education.” How came this writer to know +that it was a <i>mistaken notion</i>? Ought he not rather, when he looked at +the result, when he considered the astonishing knowledge and great deeds +of Alfred—ought he not to have hesitated before he thus criticised the +notions of the father? It appears from the result that the notions of +the father were perfectly correct; and I am satisfied, that if they had +begun to thump the head of Alfred when he was a child, we should not at +this day have heard talk of Alfred the Great.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>Great apologies are due to the OLD LADY from me, on account of my +apparent inattention towards her, during her recent, or rather, I may +say, her present, fit of that tormenting disorder which, as I observed +before, comes upon her by <i>spells</i>. Dr. <span class="smcap">M’Culloch</span> may say what he +pleases about her being “<i>wi’ bairn</i>.” I say it’s the wet gripes; and I +saw a poor old mare down in Hampshire in just the same way; but God +forbid the catastrophe should be the same, for they shot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> poor old Ball +for the hounds. This disorder comes by spells. It sometimes seems as if +it were altogether going off; the pulse rises, and the appetite returns. +By-and-by a fresh grumbling begins to take place in the bowels. These +are followed by acute pains; the patient becomes tremulous; the pulse +begins to fall, and the most gloomy apprehensions begin again to be +entertained. At every spell the pulse does not cease falling till it +becomes lower than it was brought to by the preceding spell; and thus, +spell after spell, finally produces the natural result.</p> + +<p>It is useless at present to say much about the equivocating and +blundering of the newspapers, relative to the cause of the fall. They +are very shy, extremely cautious; become wonderfully <i>wary</i>, with regard +to this subject. They do not know what to make of it. They all remember, +that I told them that their prosperity was delusive; that it would soon +come to an end, while they were telling me of the falsification of all +my predictions. I told them the Small-note Bill had only given a +<i>respite</i>. I told them that the foreign loans, and the shares, and all +the astonishing enterprises, arose purely out of the Small-note Bill; +and that a short time would see the Small-note Bill driving the gold out +of the country, and bring us back to another restriction, OR, to wheat +at four shillings a bushel. They remember that I told them all this; and +now, some of them begin to <i>regard me as the principal cause of the +present embarrassments</i>! This is pretty work indeed! What! I! The poor +deluded creature, whose predictions were all falsified, who knew nothing +at all about such matters, who was a perfect pedlar in political +economy, who was “a conceited and obstinate old dotard,” as that polite +and enlightened paper, the <i>Morning Herald</i>, called me: is it possible +that such a poor miserable creature can have had the power to produce +effects so prodigious? Yet this really appears to be the opinion of one, +at least, of these Mr. Brougham’s best possible public instructors. The +<i>Public Ledger</i>, of the 16th of November, has the following passage:—</p> + +<p>“It is fully ascertained that the Country Banking Establishments in +England have latterly been compelled to limit their paper circulation, +for the writings of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cobbett</span> are widely circulated in the +Agricultural districts, and they have been so successful as to induce +the <i>Boobies</i> to call for gold in place of country paper, a circumstance +which has <i>produced a greater effect on the currency than any +exportation of the precious metals</i> to the Continent, either of Europe +or America, could have done, although it too must have contributed to +render money for a season scarce.”</p> + +<p>And, so, the “<i>boobies</i>” call for gold instead of country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> bank-notes! +Bless the “<i>boobies</i>”! I wish they would do it to a greater extent, +which they would, if they were not so dependent as they are upon the +ragmen. But, does the <i>Public Ledger</i> think that those unfortunate +creatures who suffered the other day at Plymouth, would have been +“<i>boobies</i>,” if they had gone and got sovereigns before the banks broke? +This brother of the broad sheet should act justly and fairly as I do. He +should ascribe these demands for gold to Mr. Jones of Bristol and not to +me. Mr. Jones taught the “boobies” that they might have gold for asking +for, or send the ragmen to jail. It is Mr. Jones, therefore, that they +should blame, and not me. But, seriously speaking, what a mess, what a +pickle, what a horrible mess, must the thing be in, if any man, or any +thousand of men, or any hundred thousand of men, can change the value of +money, unhinge all contracts and all engagements, and plunge the +pecuniary affairs of a nation into confusion? I have been often accused +of wishing to be thought the cleverest man in the country; but surely it +is no vanity (for vanity means unjust pretension) for me to think myself +the cleverest man in the country, if I can of my own head, and at my own +pleasure, produce effects like these. Truth, however, and fair dealing +with my readers, call upon me to disclaim so haughty a pretension. I +have no such power as this public instructor ascribes to me. Greater +causes are at work to produce such effects; causes wholly uncontrollable +by me, and, what is more, wholly uncontrollable in the long run by the +Government itself, though heartily co-operating with the bank directors. +These united can do nothing to arrest the progress of events. Peel’s +Bill produced the horrible distresses of 1822; the part repeal of that +bill produced a respite, that respite is now about to expire; and +neither Government nor bank, nor both joined together, can prevent the +ultimate consequences. They may postpone them for a little; but mark, +every postponement will render the catastrophe the more dreadful.</p> + +<p>I see everlasting attempts by the “Instructor” to cast blame upon the +bank. I can see no blame in the bank. The bank has issued no small +notes, though it has liberty to do it. The bank pays in gold agreeably +to the law. What more does anybody want with the bank. The bank lends +money I suppose when it chooses; and is not it to be the judge when it +shall lend and when it shall not? The bank is blamed for putting out +paper and causing high prices; and blamed at the same time for not +putting out paper to accommodate merchants and keep them from breaking. +It cannot be to blame for both, and, indeed, it is blameable for +neither. It is the fellows that put out the paper and then break that do +the mischief. However,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> a breaking merchant, whom the bank will no +longer prop up, will naturally blame the bank, just as every insolvent +blames a solvent that will not lend him money.</p> + +<p>When the foreign loans first began to go on, Peter M’Culloch and all the +Scotch were cock o’ whoop. They said that there were prodigious +advantages in lending money to South America, that the interest would +come home to enrich us; that the amount of the loans would go out +chiefly in English manufactures; that the commercial gains would be +enormous; and that this country would thus be made rich, and powerful, +and happy, by employing in this way its “surplus capital,” and thereby +contributing at the same time to the uprooting of despotism and +superstition, and the establishing of freedom and liberality in their +stead. Unhappy and purblind, I could not for the life of me see the +matter in this light. My perverted optics could perceive no <i>surplus +capital</i> in bundles of bank-notes. I could see no gain in sending out +goods which somebody in England was to pay for, without, as it appeared +to me, the smallest chance of ever being paid again. I could see no +chance of gain in the purchase of a bond, nominally bearing interest at +six per cent., and on which, as I thought, no interest at all would ever +be paid. I despised the idea of paying bits of paper by bits of paper. I +knew that a bond, though said to bear six per cent. interest, was not +worth a farthing, unless some interest were paid upon it. I declared, +when Spanish bonds were at seventy-five, that I would not give a crown +for a hundred pounds in them, if I were compelled to keep them unsold +for seven years; and I now declare, as to South American bonds, I think +them of less value than the Spanish bonds now are, if the owner be +compelled to keep them unsold for a year. It is very true, that these +opinions agree with my <i>wishes</i>; but they have not been created by those +wishes. They are founded on my knowledge of the state of things, and +upon my firm conviction of the folly of expecting that the interest of +these things will ever come from the respective countries to which they +relate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Canning’s despatch, which I shall insert below, has, doubtless, had +a tendency (whether expected or not) to prop up the credit of these +sublime speculations. The propping up of the credit of them can, +however, do no sort of good. The keeping up the price of them for the +present may assist some of the actual speculators, but it can do nothing +for the speculation in the end, and this speculation, which was wholly +an effect of the Small-note Bill, will finally have a most ruinous +effect. How is it to be otherwise? Have we ever received any evidence, +or anything whereon to build a belief, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> interest on these bonds +will be paid? Never; and the man must be mad; mad with avarice or a love +of gambling, that could advance his money upon any such a thing as these +bonds. The fact is, however, that it was not <i>money</i>: it was paper: it +was borrowed, or created, for the purpose of being advanced. Observe, +too, that when the loans were made, money was at a lower value than it +is now; therefore, those who would have to pay the interest, would have +too much to pay if they were to fulfil their engagement. Mr. Canning’s +State Paper clearly proves to me, that the main object of it is to make +the loans to South America finally be paid, because, if they be not +paid, not only is the amount of them lost to the bond-holders, but there +is an end, at once, to all that brilliant <i>commerce</i> with which that +shining Minister appears to be so much enchanted. All the silver and +gold, all the Mexican and Peruvian dreams vanish in an instant, and +leave behind the wretched Cotton-Lords and wretched Jews and Jobbers to +go to the workhouse, or to Botany Bay. The whole of the loans are said +to amount to about twenty-one or twenty-two millions. It is supposed, +that twelve millions have actually been sent out in goods. These goods +have perhaps been paid for here, but they have been paid for out of +English money or by English promises. The money to pay with has come +from those who gave money for the South American bonds, and these +bond-holders are to be repaid, if repaid at all, <i>by the South +Americans</i>. If not paid at all, then England will have sent away twelve +millions worth of goods for nothing; and this would be the Scotch way of +obtaining enormous advantages for the country by laying out its +“<i>surplus capital</i>” in foreign loans. I shall conclude this subject by +inserting a letter which I find in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, of the 18th +instant. I perfectly agree with the writer. The Editor of the <i>Morning +Chronicle</i> does not, as appears by the remark which he makes at the head +of it; but I shall insert the whole, his remark and all, and add a +remark or two of my own.—[See <i>Register</i>, vol. 56, p. 556.]</p> + +<p>“This is a pretty round sum—a sum, the very naming of which would make +anybody but half-mad Englishmen stare. To make comparisons with <i>our own +debt</i> would have little effect, that being so monstrous that every other +sum shrinks into nothingness at the sight of it. But let us look at the +United States, for they have <i>a debt</i>, and a debt is a debt; and this +debt of the United States is often cited as an apology for ours, even +the parsons having at last come to cite the United States as presenting +us with a system of perfection. What, then, is this debt of the United +States? Why, it was on the 1st of January, 1824, this 90,177,962; that +is to say dollars; that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> is to say, at four shillings and sixpence the +dollar, just <i>twenty millions sterling</i>; that is to say, 594,000 pounds +<i>less</i> than our ‘surplus capital’ men have lent to the South Americans! +But now let us see what is the net revenue of this same United States. +Why, 20,500,755, that is to say, in sterling money, three millions, +three hundred and thirty thousand, and some odd hundreds; that is to +say, almost to a mere fraction, a <i>sixth part</i> of the whole gross amount +of the debt. Observe this well, that the whole of the debt amounts to +only six times as much as one single year’s net revenue. Then, again, +look at the exports of the United States. These exports, in one single +year, amount to 74,699,030 dollars, and in pounds sterling £16,599,783. +Now, what can the South American State show in this way? Have they any +exports? Or, at least, have they any that any man can speak of with +certainty? Have they any revenue wherewith to pay the interest of a +debt, when they are borrowing the very means of maintaining themselves +now against the bare name of their king? We are often told that the +Americans borrowed their money to carry on their Revolutionary war with. +<i>Money!</i> Aye; a farthing is money, and a double sovereign is no more +than money. But surely some regard is to be had to the <i>quantity</i>; some +regard is to be had to the amount of the money; and is there any man in +his senses that will put the half million, which the Americans borrowed +of the Dutch, in competition, that will name on the same day, this half +million, with the twenty-one millions and a half borrowed by the South +Americans as above stated? In short, it is almost to insult the +understandings of my readers, to seem to institute any comparison +between the two things; and nothing in the world, short of this +gambling, this unprincipled, this maddening paper-money system, could +have made men look with patience for one single moment at loans like +these, tossed into the air with the hope and expectation of re-payment. +However, let the bond-owners keep their bonds. Let them feel the sweets +of the Small-note Bill, and of the consequent puffing up of the English +funds. The affair is theirs. They have rejected my advice; they have +listened to the broad sheet; and let them take all the consequences. Let +them, with all my heart, die with starvation, and as they expire, let +them curse Mr. <span class="smcap">Brougham’s</span> best possible public Instructor.”</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Uphusband (Hampshire),<br />Thursday, 24th Aug. 1826.</i></p> + +<p>We left Burghclere last evening, in the rain; but as our distance was +only about seven miles, the consequence was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> little. The crops of corn, +except oats, have been very fine hereabouts; and there are never any +pease, nor any beans, grown here. The sainfoin fields, though on these +high lands, and though the dry weather has been of such long +continuance, look as green as watered meadows, and a great deal more +brilliant and beautiful. I have often described this beautiful village +(which lies in a deep dell) and its very variously shaped environs, in +my <i>Register</i> of November, 1822. This is one of those countries of chalk +and flint and dry-top soil and hard roads and high and bare hills and +deep dells, with clumps of lofty trees, here and there, which are so +many rookeries: this is one of those countries, or rather, approaching +towards those countries, of downs and flocks of sheep, which I like so +much, which I always get to when I can, and which many people seem to +flee from as naturally as men flee from pestilence. They call such +countries <i>naked</i> and <i>barren</i>, though they are, in the summer months, +actually covered with meat and with corn.</p> + +<p>I saw, the other day, in the Morning Herald London “best public +instructor,” that all those had <i>deceived themselves</i>, who had expected +to see the price of agricultural produce brought down by the lessening +of the quantity of paper-money. Now, in the first place, corn is, on an +average, a seventh lower in price than it was last year at this time; +and what would it have been, if the crop and the stock had now been +equal to what they were last year? All in good time, therefore, good Mr. +Thwaites. Let us have a little time. The “best public instructors” have, +as yet, only fallen, in number sold, about a third, since this time last +year. Give them a little time, good Mr. Thwaites, and you will see them +come down to your heart’s content. Only let us fairly see an end to +small notes, and there will soon be not two daily “best public +instructors” left in all the “entire” great “British Empire.”</p> + +<p>But, as man is not to live on bread alone, so corn is not the <i>only</i> +thing that the owners and occupiers of the land have to look to. There +are timber, bark, underwood, wool, hides, pigs, sheep, and cattle. All +those together make, in amount, four times the corn, at the very least. +I know that <i>all</i> these have greatly fallen in price since last year; +but I am in a sheep and wool country, and can speak positively as to +them, which are two articles of very great importance. As to sheep; I am +speaking of Southdowns, which are the great stock of these counties; as +to sheep they have fallen one-third in price since last August, lambs as +well as ewes. And, as to the wool, it sold, in 1824, at 40<i>s.</i> a tod: it +sold last year, at 35<i>s.</i> a tod; and it now sells at 19<i>s.</i> a tod! A tod +is 28lb. avoirdupois weight; so that the price of Southdown wool now is +8<i>d.</i> a pound and a fraction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> over; and this is, I believe, cheaper than +it has ever been known within the memory of the oldest man living! The +“best public instructor” may, perhaps, think, that sheep and wool are a +trifling affair. There are many thousands of farmers who keep each a +flock of at least a thousand sheep. An ewe yields about 3lb. of wool, a +wether 4lb., a ram 7lb. Calculate, good Mr. Thwaites, what a difference +it is when this wool becomes 8<i>d.</i> a pound instead of 17<i>d.</i>, and +instead of 30<i>d.</i> as it was not many years ago! In short, every middling +sheep farmer receives, this year, about 250<i>l.</i> less, as the produce of +sheep and wool, than he received last year; and, on an average, 250<i>l.</i> +is more than half his rent.</p> + +<p>There is a great falling off in the price of horses, and of all cattle +except fat cattle; and, observe, when the prospect is good, it shows a +rise in the price of lean cattle; not in that of the meat which is just +ready to go into the mouth. Prices will go on gradually falling, as they +did from 1819 to 1822 inclusive, unless upheld by untoward seasons, or +by an issue of assignats; for, mind, it would be no joke, no sham, <i>this +time</i>; it would be an issue of as real, as <i>bona fide</i> assignats as ever +came from the mint of any set of rascals that ever robbed and enslaved a +people in the names of “liberty and law.”</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>East Everley (Wiltshire),<br />Sunday, 27th August, Evening.</i></p> + +<p>We set off from Uphusband on Friday, about ten o’clock, the morning +having been wet. My sons came round, in the chaise, by Andover and +Weyhill, while I came right across the country towards Ludgarshall, +which lies in the road from Andover to this place. I never knew the +<i>flies</i> so troublesome, in England, as I found them in this ride. I was +obliged to carry a great bough, and to keep it in constant motion, in +order to make the horse peaceable enough to enable me to keep on his +back. It is a country of fields, lanes, and high hedges; so that no +<i>wind</i> could come to relieve my horse; and, in spite of all I could do, +a great part of him was covered with foam from the sweat. In the midst +of this, I got, at one time, a little out of my road, in, or near, a +place called Tangley. I rode up to the garden-wicket of a cottage, and +asked the woman, who had two children, and who seemed to be about thirty +years old, which was the way to Ludgarshall, which I knew could not be +more than about <i>four miles</i> off. She did <i>not know</i>! A very neat, +smart, and pretty woman; but she did not know the way to this rotten +borough, which was, I was sure, only about four miles off! “Well, my +dear good woman,” said I, “but you <i>have been</i> at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +<span class="smcap">Ludgarshall</span>?”—“No.”—“Nor at Andover?” (six miles another +way)—“No.”—“Nor at Marlborough?” (nine miles another +way)—“No.”—“Pray, were you born in this house?”—“Yes.”—“And how far +have you ever been from this house?”—“Oh! I have been <i>up in the +parish</i> and over <i>to Chute</i>.” That is to say, the utmost extent of her +voyages had been about two and a half miles! Let no one laugh at her, +and, above all others, let not me, who am convinced, that the +<i>facilities</i>, which now exist, of <i>moving human bodies from place to +place</i>, are amongst the <i>curses</i> of the country, the destroyers of +industry, of morals, and, of course, of happiness. It is a great error +to suppose, that people are rendered stupid by remaining always in the +same place. This was a very acute woman, and as well behaved as need to +be. There was, in July last (last month) a Preston-man, who had never +been further from home than Chorley (about eight or ten miles), and who +started off, <i>on foot</i>, and went, <i>alone</i>, to Rouen, in France, and back +again to London, in the space of about ten days; and that, too, without +being able to speak, or to understand, a word of French. N.B. Those +gentlemen, who, at Green-street, in Kent, were so kind to this man, +<i>upon finding that he had voted for me</i>, will be pleased to accept of my +best thanks. Wilding (that is the man’s name) was full of expressions of +gratitude towards these gentlemen. He spoke of others who were good to +him on his way; and even at Calais he found friends on my account; but +he was particularly loud in his praises of the gentlemen in Kent, who +had been so good and so kind to him, that he seemed quite in an extasy +when he talked of their conduct.</p> + +<p>Before I got to the rotten-borough, I came out upon a Down, just on the +border of the two counties, Hampshire and Wiltshire. Here I came up with +my sons, and we entered the rotten-borough together. It contained some +rashers of bacon and a very civil landlady; but it is one of the most +mean and beggarly places that man ever set his eyes on. The curse +attending corruption seems to be upon it. The look of the place would +make one swear, that there never was a clean shirt in it, since the +first stone of it was laid. It must have been a large place once, though +it now contains only 479 persons, men, women, and children. The borough +is, as to all practical purposes, as much private property as this pen +is my private property. Aye, aye! Let the petitioners of Manchester +bawl, as long as they like, against all other evils; but, until they +touch this <i>master-evil</i>, they do nothing at all.</p> + +<p>Everley is but about three miles from Ludgarshall, so that we got here +in the afternoon of Friday: and, in the evening a very heavy storm came +and drove away all flies, and made the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> air delightful. This is a real +<i>Down</i>-country. Here you see miles and miles square without a tree, or +hedge, or bush. It is country of green-sward. This is the most famous +place in all England for <i>coursing</i>. I was here, at this very inn, with +a party eighteen years ago; and the landlord, who is still the same, +recognized me as soon as he saw me. There were forty brace of greyhounds +taken out into the field on one of the days, and every brace had one +course, and some of them two. The ground is the finest in the world; +from two to three miles for the hare to run to cover, and not a stone +nor a bush nor a hillock. It was here proved to me, that the hare is, by +far, the swiftest of all English animals; for I saw three hares, in one +day, <i>run away</i> from the dogs. To give dog and hare a fair trial, there +should be but <i>one</i> dog. Then, if that dog got so close as to compel the +hare <i>to turn</i>, that would be a proof that the dog ran fastest. When the +dog, or dogs, never get near enough to the hare to induce her to <i>turn</i>, +she is said, and very justly, to “<i>run away</i>” from them; and, as I saw +three hares do this in one day, I conclude, that the hare is the +swiftest animal of the two.</p> + +<p>This inn is one of the nicest, and, in summer, one of the pleasantest, +in England; for, I think, that my experience in this way will justify me +in speaking thus positively. The house is large, the yard and the +stables good, the landlord <i>a farmer</i> also, and, therefore, no cribbing +your horses in hay or straw and yourself in eggs and cream. The garden, +which adjoins the south side of the house, is large, of good shape, has +a terrace on one side, lies on the slope, consists of well-disposed +clumps of shrubs and flowers, and of short-grass very neatly kept. In +the lower part of the garden there are high trees, and, amongst these, +the tulip-tree and the live-oak. Beyond the garden is a large clump of +lofty sycamores, and in these a most populous rookery, in which, of all +things in the world, I delight. The village, which contains 301 souls, +lies to the north of the inn, but adjoining its premises. All the rest, +in every direction, is bare down or open arable. I am now sitting at one +of the southern windows of this inn, looking across the garden towards +the rookery. It is nearly sun-setting; the rooks are skimming and +curving over the tops of the trees; while, under the branches, I see a +flock of several hundred sheep, coming nibbling their way in from the +Down, and going to their fold.</p> + +<p>Now, what ill-natured devil could bring Old Nic Grimshaw into my head in +company with these innocent sheep? Why, the truth is this: nothing is +<i>so swift</i> as <i>thought</i>: it runs over a life-time in a moment; and, +while I was writing the last sentence of the foregoing paragraph, +<i>thought</i> took me up at the time when I used to wear a smock-frock and +to carry a wooden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> bottle like that shepherd’s boy; and, in an instant, +it hurried me along through my no very short life of adventure, of toil, +of peril, of pleasure, of ardent friendship and not less ardent enmity; +and after filling me with wonder, that a heart and mind so wrapped up in +everything belonging to the gardens, the fields and the woods, should +have been condemned to waste themselves away amidst the stench, the +noise, and the strife of cities, it brought me <i>to the present moment</i>, +and sent my mind back to what I have yet to perform about Nicholas +Grimshaw and his <i>ditches</i>!</p> + +<p>My sons set off about three o’clock to-day, on their way to +Herefordshire, where I intend to join them, when I have had a pretty +good ride in this country. There is no pleasure in travelling, except on +horse-back, or on foot. Carriages take your body from place to place; +and if you merely want to be <i>conveyed</i>, they are very good; but they +enable you to see and to know nothing at all of the country.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>East Everley, Monday Morning,<br />5 o’clock, 28th Aug. 1826.</i></p> + +<p>A very fine morning; a man, <i>eighty-two years of age</i>, just beginning to +mow the short-grass, in the garden: I thought it, even when I was young, +the <i>hardest work</i> that man had to do. To <i>look on</i>, this work seems +nothing; but it tries every sinew in your frame, if you go upright and +do your work well. This old man never knew how to do it well, and he +stoops, and he hangs his scythe wrong; but, with all this, it must be a +surprising man to mow short-grass, as well as he does, at <i>eighty</i>. <i>I +wish I</i> may be able to mow short-grass at eighty! That’s all I have to +say of the matter. I am just setting off for the source of the Avon, +which runs from near Marlborough to Salisbury, and thence to the sea; +and I intend to pursue it as far as Salisbury. In the distance of thirty +miles, here are, I see by the books, more than thirty churches. I wish +to see, with my own eyes, what evidence there is that those thirty +churches were built without hands, without money, and without a +congregation; and thus to find matter, if I can, to justify the mad +wretches, who, from Committee-Rooms and elsewhere, are bothering this +half-distracted nation to death about a “surplus popalashon, mon.”</p> + +<p>My horse is ready; and the rooks are just gone off to the +stubble-fields. These rooks rob the pigs; but they have <i>a right</i> to do +it. I wonder (upon my soul I do) that there is no lawyer, Scotchman, or +Parson-Justice, to propose a law to punish the rooks for <i>trespass</i>.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> +<h3>RIDE DOWN THE VALLEY OF THE AVON IN WILTSHIRE.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn; and, +The labourer is worthy of his reward.”—Deuteronomy, ch. xxv, ver. +4; 1 Cor. ix, 9; 1 Tim. v, 9.</p></div> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Milton,<br />Monday, 28th August.</i></p> + +<p>I came off this morning on the Marlborough road about two miles, or +three, and then turned off, over the downs, in a north-westerly +direction, in search of the source of the Avon River, which goes down to +Salisbury. I had once been at Netheravon, a village in this valley; but +I had often heard this valley described as one of the finest pieces of +land in all England; I knew that there were about thirty parish +churches, standing in a length of about thirty miles, and in an average +width of hardly a mile; and I was resolved to see a little into the +<i>reasons</i> that could have induced our fathers to build all these +churches, especially if, as the Scotch would have us believe, there were +but a mere handful of people in England <i>until of late years</i>.</p> + +<p>The first part of my ride this morning was by the side of Sir John +Astley’s park. This man is one of the members of the county (gallon-loaf +Bennet being the other). They say that he is good to the labouring +people; and he ought to be good for <i>something</i>, being a member of +Parliament of the Lethbridge and Dickenson stamp. However, he has got a +thumping estate; though it be borne in mind, the working-people and the +fund-holders and the dead-weight have each their separate mortgage upon +it; of which this Baronet has, I dare say, too much justice to complain, +seeing that the amount of these mortgages was absolutely necessary to +carry on Pitt and Perceval and Castlereagh Wars; to support Hanoverian +soldiers in England; to fight and beat the Americans on the Serpentine +River; to give Wellington a kingly estate; and to defray the expenses of +Manchester and other yeomanry cavalry; besides all the various charges +of Power-of-Imprisonment Bills and of Six-Acts. These being the cause of +the mortgages, the “worthy Baronet” has, I will engage, too much justice +to complain of them.</p> + +<p>In steering across the down, I came to a large farm, which a shepherd +told me was Milton Hill Farm. This was upon the high land, and before I +came to the edge of this <i>Valley of Avon</i>, which was my land of promise; +or, at least, of great expectation; for I could not imagine that thirty +churches had been built <i>for nothing</i> by the side of a brook (for it is +no more during<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> the greater part of the way) thirty miles long. The +shepherd showed me the way towards Milton; and at the end of about a +mile, from the top of a very high part of the down, with a steep slope +towards the valley, I first saw this <i>Valley of Avon</i>; and a most +beautiful sight it was! Villages, hamlets, large farms, towers, +steeples, fields, meadows, orchards, and very fine timber trees, +scattered all over the valley. The shape of the thing is this: on each +side <i>downs</i>, very lofty and steep in some places, and sloping miles +back in other places; but each <i>outside</i> of the valley are downs. From +the edge of the downs begin capital <i>arable fields</i> generally of very +great dimensions, and, in some places, running a mile or two back into +little <i>cross-valleys</i>, formed by hills of downs. After the corn-fields +come <i>meadows</i>, on each side, down to the <i>brook</i> or <i>river</i>. The +farm-houses, mansions, villages, and hamlets, are generally situated in +that part of the arable land which comes nearest the meadows.</p> + +<p>Great as my expectations had been, they were more than fulfilled. I +delight in this sort of country; and I had frequently seen the vale of +the Itchen, that of the Bourn, and also that of the Teste, in Hampshire; +I had seen the vales amongst the South Downs; but I never before saw +anything to please me like this valley of the Avon. I sat upon my horse, +and looked over Milton and Easton and Pewsy for half an hour, though I +had not breakfasted. The hill was very steep. A road, going slanting +down it, was still so steep, and washed so very deep, by the rains of +ages, that I did not attempt to <i>ride</i> down it, and I did not like to +lead my horse, the path was so narrow. So seeing a boy with a drove of +pigs, going out to the stubbles, I beckoned him to come up to me; and he +came and led my horse down for me. Endless is the variety in the shape +of the high lands which form this valley. Sometimes the slope is very +gentle, and the arable lands go back very far. At others, the downs come +out into the valley almost like piers into the sea, being very steep in +their sides, as well as their ends towards the valley. They have no +slope at their other ends: indeed they have no <i>back ends</i>, but run into +the main high land. There is also great variety in the width of the +valley; great variety in the width of the meadows; but the land appears +all to be of the very best; and it must be so, for the farmers confess +it.</p> + +<p>It seemed to me, that one way, and that not, perhaps, the least +striking, of exposing the folly, the stupidity, the inanity, the +presumption, the insufferable emptiness and insolence and barbarity, of +those numerous wretches, who have now the audacity to propose to +<i>transport</i> the people of England, upon the principle of the monster +Malthus, who has furnished the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> unfeeling oligarchs and their +toad-eaters with the pretence, that <i>man has a natural propensity to +breed faster than food can be raised for the increase</i>; it seemed to me, +that one way of exposing this mixture of madness and of blasphemy was to +take a look, now that the harvest is in, at the produce, the mouths, the +condition, and the changes that have taken place, in a spot like this, +which God has favoured with every good that he has had to bestow upon +man.</p> + +<p>From the top of the hill I was not a little surprised to see, in every +part of the valley that my eye could reach, a due, a large portion of +fields of Swedish turnips, all looking extremely well. I had found the +turnips, of both sorts, by no means bad, from Salt Hill to Newbury; but +from Newbury through Burghclere, Highclere, Uphusband, and Tangley, I +had seen but few. At and about Ludgarshall and Everley, I had seen +hardly any. But when I came, this morning, to Milton Hill farm, I saw a +very large field of what appeared to me to be fine Swedish turnips. In +the valley, however, I found them much finer, and the fields were very +beautiful objects, forming, as their colour did, so great a contrast +with that of the fallows and the stubbles, which latter are, this year, +singularly clean and bright.</p> + +<p>Having gotten to the bottom of the hill, I proceeded on to the village +of Milton. I left Easton away at my right, and I did not go up to Watton +Rivers where the river Avon rises, and which lies just close to the +South-west corner of Marlborough Forest, and at about 5 or 6 miles from +the town of Marlborough. Lower down the river, as I thought, there lived +a friend, who was a great farmer, and whom I intended to call on. It +being my way, however, always to begin making enquiries soon enough, I +asked the pig-driver where this friend lived; and, to my surprise, I +found that he lived in the parish of Milton. After riding up to the +church, as being the centre of the village, I went on towards the house +of my friend, which lay on my road down the valley. I have many, many +times witnessed agreeable surprise; but I do not know, that I ever in +the whole course of my life, saw people so much surprised and pleased as +this farmer and his family were at seeing me. People often <i>tell</i> you, +that they are <i>glad to see</i> you; and in general they speak truth. I take +pretty good care not to approach any house, with the smallest appearance +of a design to eat or drink in it, unless I be <i>quite sure</i> of a cordial +reception; but my friend at Fifield (it is in Milton parish) and all his +family really seemed to be delighted beyond all expression.</p> + +<p>When I set out this morning, I intended to go all the way down to the +city of Salisbury <i>to-day</i>; but, I soon found, that to refuse to sleep +at Fifield would cost me a great deal more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> trouble than a day was +worth. So that I made my mind up to stay in this farm-house, which has +one of the nicest gardens, and it contains some of the finest flowers, +that I ever saw, and all is disposed with as much good taste as I have +ever witnessed. Here I am, then, just going to bed after having spent as +pleasant a day as I ever spent in my life. I have heard to-day, that +Birkbeck lost his life by attempting to cross a river on horse-back; but +if what I have heard besides be true, that life must have been hardly +worth preserving; for, they say, that he was reduced to a very +deplorable state; and I have heard, from what I deem unquestionable +authority, that his two beautiful and accomplished daughters are married +to two common labourers, one a Yankee and the other an Irishman, neither +of whom has, probably, a second shirt to his back, or a single pair of +shoes to put his feet into! These poor girls owe their ruin and misery +(if my information be correct), and, at any rate, hundreds besides +Birkbeck himself, owe their utter ruin, the most scandalous degradation, +together with great bodily suffering, to the vanity, the conceit, the +presumption of Birkbeck, who, observe, richly merited all that he +suffered, not excepting his death; for, he sinned with his eyes open; he +rejected all advice; he persevered after he saw his error; he dragged +thousands into ruin along with him; and he most vilely calumniated the +man, who, after having most disinterestedly, but in vain, endeavoured to +preserve him from ruin, endeavoured to preserve those who were in danger +of being deluded by him. When, in 1817, before he set out for America, I +was, in Catherine Street, Strand, London, so earnestly pressing him not +to go to the back countries, he had one of these daughters with him. +After talking to him for some time, and describing the risks and +disadvantages of the back countries, I turned towards the daughter and, +in a sort of joking way, said: “Miss Birkbeck, take my advice: don’t let +anybody get <i>you</i> more than twenty miles from Boston, New York, +Philadelphia, or Baltimore.” Upon which he gave me a most <i>dignified</i> +look, and observed: “Miss Birkbeck has <i>a father</i>, Sir, whom she knows +it to be her duty to obey.” This snap was enough for me. I saw, that +this was a man so full of self-conceit, that it was impossible to do +anything with him. He seemed to me to be bent upon his own destruction. +I thought it my duty to warn <i>others</i> of their danger: some took the +warning; others did not; but he and his brother adventurer, Flower, +never forgave me, and they resorted to all the means in their power to +do me injury. They did me no injury, no thanks to them; and I have seen +them most severely, but most justly, punished.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Amesbury,<br />Tuesday, 29th August.</i></p> + +<p>I set off from Fifield this morning, and got here about one o’clock, +with my clothes wet. While they are drying, and while a mutton chop is +getting ready, I sit down to make some notes of what I have seen since I +left Enford ... but, here comes my dinner: and I must put off my notes +till I have dined.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Salisbury,<br />Wednesday, 30th August.</i></p> + +<p>My ride yesterday, from Milton to this city of Salisbury, was, without +any exception, the most pleasant; it brought before me the greatest +number of, to me, interesting objects, and it gave rise to more +interesting reflections, than I remember ever to have had brought before +my eyes, or into my mind, in any one day of my life; and therefore, this +ride was, without any exception, the most pleasant that I ever had in my +life, as far as my recollection serves me. I got a little wet in the +middle of the day; but I got dry again, and I arrived here in very good +time, though I went over the Accursed Hill (Old Sarum), and went across +to Laverstoke, before I came to Salisbury.</p> + +<p>Let us now, then, look back over this part of Wiltshire, and see whether +the inhabitants ought to be “transported” by order of the “Emigration +Committee,” of which we shall see and say more by-and-by. I have before +described this valley generally; let me now speak of it a little more in +detail. The farms are all large, and, generally speaking, they were +always large, I dare say; because <i>sheep</i> is one of the great things +here; and sheep, in a country like this, must be kept in <i>flocks</i>, to be +of any profit. The sheep principally manure the land. This is to be done +only by <i>folding</i>; and, to fold, you must have a <i>flock</i>. Every farm has +its portion of down, arable, and meadow; and, in many places, the latter +are watered meadows, which is a great resource where sheep are kept in +flocks; because these meadows furnish grass for the suckling ewes, early +in the spring; and, indeed, because they have always food in them for +sheep and cattle of all sorts. These meadows have had no part of the +suffering from the drought, this year. They fed the ewes and lambs in +the spring, and they are now yielding a heavy crop of hay; for I saw men +mowing in them, in several places, particularly about Netheravon, though +it was raining at the time.</p> + +<p>The turnips look pretty well all the way down the valley; but, I see +very few, except Swedish turnips. The early common turnips very nearly +all failed, I believe. But the stubbles are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> beautifully bright; and the +rick-yards tell us that the crops are good, especially of wheat. This is +not a country of pease and beans, nor of oats, except for home +consumption. The crops are wheat, barley, wool, and lambs, and these +latter not to be sold to butchers, but to be sold, at the great fairs, +to those who are going to keep them for some time, whether to breed +from, or finally to fat for the butcher. It is the pulse and the oats +that appear to have failed most this year; and therefore this Valley has +not suffered. I do not perceive that they have many <i>potatoes</i>; but what +they have of this base root seem to look well enough. It was one of the +greatest villains upon earth (Sir Walter Raleigh), who (they say) first +brought this root into England. He was hanged at last! What a pity, +since he was to be hanged, the hanging did not take place before he +became such a mischievous devil as he was in the latter two-thirds of +his life!</p> + +<p>The stack-yards down this valley are beautiful to behold. They contain +from five to fifteen banging wheat-ricks, besides barley-ricks, and +hay-ricks, and also besides the contents of the barns, many of which +exceed a hundred, some two hundred, and I saw one at Pewsey, and another +at Fittleton, each of which exceeded two hundred and fifty feet in +length. At a farm, which, in the old maps, is called Chissenbury Priory, +I think I counted twenty-seven ricks of one sort and another, and +sixteen or eighteen of them wheat-ricks. I could not conveniently get to +the yard, without longer delay than I wished to make; but I could not be +much out in my counting. A very fine sight this was, and it could not +meet the eye without making one look round (and in vain) <i>to see the +people who were to eat all this food</i>; and without making one reflect on +the horrible, the unnatural, the base and infamous state, in which we +must be, when projects are on foot, and are openly avowed, for +<i>transporting</i> those who raise this food, because they want to eat +enough of it to keep them alive; and when no project is on foot for +transporting the idlers who live in luxury upon this same food; when no +project is on foot for transporting pensioners, parsons, or dead-weight +people!</p> + +<p>A little while before I came to this farm-yard, I saw, in one piece, +about four hundred acres of wheat-stubble, and I saw a sheep-fold, +which, I thought, contained an acre of ground, and had in it about four +thousand sheep and lambs. The fold was divided into three separate +flocks; but the piece of ground was one and the same; and I thought it +contained about an acre. At one farm, between Pewsey and Upavon, I +counted more than 300 hogs in one stubble. This is certainly the most +delightful farming in the world. No ditches, no water-furrows, no +drains, hardly any hedges, no dirt and mire, even in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> wettest +seasons of the year: and though the downs are naked and cold, the +valleys are snugness itself. They are, as to the downs, what <i>ah-ahs!</i> +are, in parks or lawns. When you are going over the downs, you look +<i>over</i> the valleys, as in the case of the <i>ah-ah</i>; and if you be not +acquainted with the country, your surprise, when you come to the edge of +the hill, is very great. The shelter, in these valleys, and particularly +where the downs are steep and lofty on the sides, is very complete. +Then, the trees are everywhere lofty. They are generally elms, with some +ashes, which delight in the soil that they find here. There are, almost +always, two or three large clumps of trees in every parish, and a +rookery or two (not <i>rag</i>-rookery) to every parish. By the water’s edge +there are willows; and to almost every farm there is a fine orchard, the +trees being, in general, very fine, and, this year, they are, in +general, well loaded with fruit. So that, all taken together, it seems +impossible to find a more beautiful and pleasant country than this, or +to imagine any life more easy and happy than men might here lead, if +they were untormented by an accursed system that takes the food from +those that raise it, and gives it to those that do nothing that is +useful to man.</p> + +<p>Here the farmer has always an abundance of straw. His farm-yard is never +without it. Cattle and horses are bedded up to their eyes. The yards are +put close under the shelter of a hill, or are protected by lofty and +thick-set trees. Every animal seems comfortably situated; and, in the +dreariest days of winter, these are, perhaps, the happiest scenes in the +world; or, rather, they would be such, if those, whose labour makes it +all, trees, corn, sheep and everything, had but <i>their fair share</i> of +the produce of that labour. What share they really have of it one cannot +exactly say; but, I should suppose, that every labouring <i>man</i> in this +valley raises as much food as would suffice for fifty, or a hundred +persons, fed like himself!</p> + +<p>At a farm at Milton there were, according to my calculation, 600 +quarters of wheat and 1200 quarters of barley of the present year’s +crop. The farm keeps, on an average, 1400 sheep, it breeds and rears an +usual proportion of pigs, fats the usual proportion of hogs, and, I +suppose, rears and fats the usual proportion of poultry. Upon inquiry, I +found that this farm was, in point of produce, about one-fifth of the +parish. Therefore, the land of this parish produces annually about 3000 +quarters of wheat, 6000 quarters of barley, the wool of 7000 sheep, +together with the pigs and poultry. Now, then, leaving green, or moist, +vegetables out of the question, as being things that human creatures, +and especially <i>labouring</i> human creatures, ought never to use <i>as +sustenance</i>, and saying nothing, at present, about milk and butter;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +leaving these wholly out of the question, let us see how many people the +produce of this parish would keep, supposing the people to live all +alike, and to have plenty of food and clothing. In order to come at the +fact here, let us see what would be the consumption of one family; let +it be a family of five persons; a man, wife, and three children, one +child big enough to work, one big enough to eat heartily, and one a +baby; and this is a pretty fair average of the state of people in the +country. Such a family would want 5 lb. of bread a-day; they would want +a pound of mutton a-day; they would want two pounds of bacon a-day; they +would want, on an average, winter and summer, a gallon and a half of +beer a-day; for I mean that they should live without the aid of the +Eastern or the Western slave-drivers. If <i>sweets</i> were absolutely +necessary for the baby, there would be quite <i>honey</i> enough in the +parish. Now, then, to begin with the bread, a pound of good wheat makes +a pound of good bread; for, though the offal be taken out, the water is +put in; and, indeed, the fact is, that a pound of wheat will make a +pound of bread, leaving the offal of the wheat to feed pigs, or other +animals, and to produce other human food in this way. The family would, +then, use 1825 lb. of wheat in the year, which, at 60 lb. a bushel, +would be (leaving out a fraction) 30 bushels, or three quarters and six +bushels, <i>for the year</i>.</p> + +<p>Next comes the mutton, 365 lb. for the year. Next the bacon, 730 lb. As +to the quantity of mutton produced; the sheep are bred here, and not +fatted in general; but we may fairly suppose, that each of the sheep +<i>kept</i> here, each of the <i>standing-stock</i>, makes first, or last, half a +fat sheep; so that a farm that keeps, on an average, 100 sheep, produces +annually 50 fat sheep. Suppose the mutton to be 15 lb. a quarter, then +the family will want, within a trifle of, seven sheep a year. Of bacon +or pork, 36 score will be wanted. Hogs differ so much in their +propensity to fat, that it is difficult to calculate about them: but +this is a very good rule: when you see a fat hog, and know how many +<i>scores</i> he will weigh, set down to his account a sack (half a quarter) +of barley for every score of his weight; for, let him have been +<i>educated</i> (as the French call it) as he may, this will be about the +real cost of him when he is fat. A sack of barley will make a score of +bacon, and it will not make more. Therefore, the family would want 18 +quarters of barley in the year for bacon.</p> + +<p>As to the <i>beer</i>, 18 gallons to the bushel of malt is very good; but, as +we allow of no spirits, no wine, and none of the slave produce, we will +suppose that a <i>sixth</i> part of the beer is <i>strong</i> stuff. This would +require two bushels of malt to the 18 gallons. The whole would, +therefore, take 35 bushels of malt; and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> bushel of barley makes a +bushel of malt, and, by the <i>increase</i> pays the expense of malting. +Here, then, the family would want, for beer, four quarters and three +bushels of barley. The annual consumption of the family, in victuals and +drink, would then be as follows:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="table"> +<tr><td> </td><td><span class="spacer"> </span></td> + <td align="center">Qrs.</td><td><span class="spacer"> </span></td> + <td align="center">Bush.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Wheat</td><td> </td> + <td align="center">3</td><td> </td> + <td align="center">6</td></tr> +<tr><td>Barley</td><td> </td> + <td class="line" align="center"><span style="margin-left: -.5em;">22</span></td><td class="line"> </td> + <td class="line" align="center">3</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sheep</td><td> </td><td align="center">7</td></tr></table> + +<p>This being the case, the 3000 quarters of wheat, which the parish +annually produces, would suffice for 800 families. The 6000 quarters of +barley, would suffice for 207 families. The 3500 fat sheep, being half +the number kept, would suffice for 500 families. So that here is, +produced in the parish of Milton, <i>bread</i> for 800, <i>mutton</i> for 500, and +<i>bacon and beer</i> for 207 families. Besides victuals and drink, there are +clothes, fuel, tools, and household goods wanting; but there are milk, +butter, eggs, poultry, rabbits, hares, and partridges, which I have not +noticed, and these are all eatables, and are all eaten too. And as to +clothing, and, indeed, fuel and all other wants beyond eating and +drinking, are there not 7000 fleeces of Southdown wool, weighing, all +together, 21,000 lb., and capable of being made into 8400 yards of broad +cloth, at two pounds and a half of wool to the yard? Setting, therefore, +the wool, the milk, butter, eggs, poultry, and game against all the +wants beyond the solid food and drink, we see that the parish of Milton, +that we have under our eye, would give bread to 800 families, mutton to +580, and bacon and beer to 207. The reason why wheat and mutton are +produced in a proportion so much greater than the materials for making +bacon and beer, is, that the wheat and the mutton are more loudly +demanded <i>from a distance</i>, and are much more cheaply conveyed away in +proportion to their value. For instance, the wheat and mutton are wanted +in the infernal Wen, and some barley is wanted there in the shape of +malt; but hogs are not fatted in the Wen, and a larger proportion of the +barley is used where it is grown.</p> + +<p>Here is, then, bread for 800 families, mutton for 500, and bacon and +beer for 207. Let us take the average of the three, and then we have 502 +families, for the keeping of whom, and in this good manner too, the +parish of Milton yields a sufficiency. In the wool, the milk, butter, +eggs, poultry, and game, we have seen ample, and much more than ample, +provision for all wants other than those of mere food and drink. What I +have allowed in food and drink is by no means excessive. It is but a +pound of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> bread, and a little more than half-a-pound of meat a day to +each person on an average; and the beer is not a drop too much. There +are no green and moist vegetables included in my account; but, there +would be some, and they would not do any harm; but, no man can say, or, +at least, none but a base usurer, who would grind money out of the bones +of his own father; no other man can, or will, say, that I have been <i>too +liberal</i> to this family; and yet, good God! what extravagance is here, +if the labourers of England be now treated justly!</p> + +<p>Is there a family, even amongst those who live the hardest, in the Wen, +that would not shudder at the thought of living upon what I have allowed +to this family? Yet what do labourers’ families get, compared to this? +The answer to that question ought to make us shudder indeed. The amount +of my allowance, compared with the amount of the allowance that +labourers now have, is necessary to be stated here, before I proceed +further. The wheat 3 qrs. and 6 bushels at present price (56<i>s.</i> the +quarter) amounts to 10<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> The barley (for bacon and beer) 22 +qrs. 3 bushels, at present price (34<i>s.</i> the quarter), amounts to 37<i>l.</i> +16<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> The seven sheep, at 40<i>s.</i> each, amount to 14<i>l.</i> The total +is 62<i>l.</i> 6<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i>; and this, observe, for <i>bare victuals and drink</i>; +just food and drink enough to keep people in working condition.</p> + +<p>What then <i>do</i> the labourers get? To what fare has this wretched and +most infamous system brought them! Why such a family as I have described +is allowed to have, <i>at the utmost</i>, only about 9<i>s.</i> a week. The parish +allowance is only about 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> for the five people, including +clothing, fuel, bedding and everything! Monstrous state of things! But +let us suppose it to be <i>nine shillings</i>. Even that makes only 23<i>l.</i> +8<i>s.</i> a year, for food, drink, clothing, fuel and everything, whereas I +allow 62<i>l.</i> 6<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> a year for the bare eating and drinking; and +that is little enough. Monstrous, barbarous, horrible as this appears, +we do not, however, see it in half its horrors; our indignation and rage +against this infernal system is not half roused, till we see the small +number of labourers who raise all the food and the drink, and, of +course, the mere trifling portion of it that they are suffered to retain +for their own use.</p> + +<p>The parish of Milton does, as we have seen, produce food, drink, +clothing, and all other things, enough for 502 families, or 2510 persons +upon my allowance, which is a great deal more than three times the +present allowance, because the present allowance includes clothing, +fuel, tools, and everything. Now, then, according to the “Population +Return,” laid before Parliament, this parish contains 500 persons, or, +according to my division, one hundred families. So that here are about +<i>one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> hundred</i> families to raise food and drink enough, and to raise +wool and other things to pay for all other necessaries, for <i>five +hundred</i> and <i>two</i> families! Aye, and five hundred and two families fed +and lodged, too, on my liberal scale. Fed and lodged according to the +present scale, this one hundred families raise enough to supply more, +and many more, than fifteen hundred families; or seven thousand five +hundred persons! And yet those who do the work are half starved! In the +100 families there are, we will suppose, 80 able working men, and as +many boys, sometimes assisted by the women and stout girls. What a +handful of people to raise such a quantity of food! What injustice, what +a hellish system it must be, to make those who raise it skin and bone +and nakedness, while the food and drink and wool are almost all carried +away to be heaped on the fund-holders, pensioners, soldiers, +dead-weight, and other swarms of tax-eaters! If such an operation do not +need putting an end to, then the devil himself is a saint.</p> + +<p>Thus it must be, or much about thus, all the way down this fine and +beautiful and interesting valley. There are 29 agricultural parishes, +the two last being in town; being Fisherton and Salisbury. Now, +according to the “Population Return,” the whole of these 29 parishes +contain 9,116 persons; or, according to my division, 1,823 families. +There is no reason to believe, that the proportion that we have seen in +the case of Milton does not hold good all the way through; that is, +there is no reason to suppose, that the produce does not exceed the +consumption in every other case in the same degree that it does in the +case of Milton. And indeed if I were to judge from the number of houses +and the number of ricks of corn, I should suppose that the excess was +still greater in several of the other parishes. But, supposing it to be +no greater; supposing the same proportion to continue all the way from +Watton Rivers to Stratford Dean, then here are 9,116 persons raising +food and raiment sufficient for 45,580 persons, fed and lodged according +to my scale; and sufficient for 136,740 persons, according to the scale +on which the unhappy labourers of this fine valley are now fed and +lodged!</p> + +<p>And yet there is an “<i>Emigration Committee</i>” sitting to devise the means +of getting <i>rid</i>, not of the idlers, not of the pensioners, not of the +dead-weight, not of the parsons, (to “relieve” whom we have seen the +poor labourers taxed to the tune of a million and a half of money) not +of the soldiers; but to devise means of getting rid of <i>these working +people</i>, who are grudged even the miserable morsel that they get! There +is in the men calling themselves “English country gentlemen” something +superlatively base. They are, I sincerely believe, the most cruel, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +most unfeeling, the most brutally insolent: but I know, I can prove, I +can safely take my oath, that they are the most base of all the +creatures that God ever suffered to disgrace the human shape. The base +wretches know well, that the <i>taxes</i> amount to more than <i>sixty +millions</i> a year, and that the <i>poor-rates</i> amount to about <i>seven +millions</i>; yet, while the cowardly reptiles never utter a word against +the taxes, they are incessantly railing against the poor-rates, though +it is, (and they know it) the taxes that make the paupers. The base +wretches know well, that the sum of money given, even to the fellows +that gather the taxes, is greater in amount than the poor-rates; the +base wretches know well, that the money, given to the dead-weight (who +ought not to have a single farthing), amounts to more than the poor +receive out of the rates; the base wretches know well, that the common +foot-soldier now receives more pay per week (7<i>s.</i> 7<i>d.</i>) exclusive of +clothing, firing, candle, and lodging; the base wretches know, that the +common foot-soldier receives more to go down his own single throat, than +the overseers and magistrates allow to a working man, his wife and three +children; the base wretches know all this well; and yet their railings +are confined to the <i>poor</i> and the <i>poor-rates</i>; and it is expected that +they will, next session, urge the Parliament to pass a law to enable +overseers and vestries and magistrates <i>to transport paupers beyond the +seas</i>! They are base enough for this, or for any thing; but the whole +system will go to the devil long before they will get such an act +passed; long before they will see perfected this consummation of their +infamous tyranny.</p> + +<p>It is manifest enough, that the <i>population</i> of this valley was, at one +time, many times over what it is now; for, in the first place, what were +the twenty-nine churches built <i>for</i>? The population of the 29 parishes +is now but little more than one-half of that of the single parish of +Kensington; and there are several of the churches bigger than the church +at Kensington. What, then, should all these churches have been built +<i>for</i>? And besides, where did the hands come from? And where did the +money come from? These twenty-nine churches would now not only hold all +the inhabitants, men, women, and children, but all the household goods, +and tools, and implements, of the whole of them, farmers and all, if you +leave out the wagons and carts. In three instances, Fifield, Milston, +and Roach-Fen, the <i>church-porches</i> will hold all the inhabitants, even +down to the bed-ridden and the babies. What then? will any man believe +that these churches were built for such little knots of people? We are +told about the <i>great</i> superstition of our fathers, and of their +readiness to gratify the priests by building altars and other religious +edifices. But we must think those priests to have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> most devout +creatures indeed, if we believe that they chose to have the money laid +out in <i>useless</i> churches, rather than have it put into their own +pockets! At any rate, we all know that Protestant Priests have no whims +of <i>this sort</i>; and that they never lay out upon churches any money that +they can, by any means, get hold of.</p> + +<p>But, suppose that we were to believe that the Priests had, in old times, +this unaccountable taste; and suppose we were to believe that a knot of +people, who might be crammed into a church-porch, were seized, and very +frequently too, with the desire of having a big church to go to; we +must, after all this, believe that this knot of people were more than +<i>giants</i>, or that they had surprising <i>riches</i>, else we cannot believe +that they had <i>the means</i> of gratifying the strange wishes of their +Priests and their own not less strange <i>piety</i> and <i>devotion</i>. Even if +we could believe that they thought that they were paving their way to +heaven, by building churches which were a hundred times too large for +the population, still we cannot believe, that the building could have +been effected without bodily force; and, where was this force to come +from, if the people were not more numerous than they now are? What, +again, I ask, were these twenty-nine churches stuck up, not a mile from +each other; what were twenty-nine churches made <i>for</i>, if the population +had been no greater than it is now?</p> + +<p>But, in fact, you plainly see all the traces of a great ancient +population. The churches are almost all large, and built in the best +manner. Many of them are very fine edifices; very costly in the +building; and, in the cases where the body of the church has been +altered in the repairing of it, so as to make it smaller, the <i>tower</i>, +which everywhere defies the hostility of time, shows you what the church +must formerly have been. This is the case in several instances; and +there are two or three of these villages which must formerly have been +<i>market-towns</i>, and particularly Pewsy and Upavon. There are now no less +than nine of the parishes out of the twenty-nine, that have either no +parsonage-houses, or have such as are in such a state that a Parson will +not, or cannot, live in them. Three of them are without any +parsonage-houses at all, and the rest are become poor, mean, +falling-down places. This latter is the case at Upavon, which was +formerly a very considerable place. Nothing can more clearly show, than +this, that all, as far as buildings and population are concerned, has +been long upon the decline and decay. Dilapidation after dilapidation +have, at last, almost effaced even the parsonage-houses, and that too in +<i>defiance of the law</i>, ecclesiastical as well as civil. The land +remains; and the crops and the sheep come as abundantly as ever; but +they are now sent almost wholly away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> instead of remaining, as +formerly, to be, in great part, consumed in these twenty-nine parishes.</p> + +<p>The <i>stars</i>, in my map, mark the spots where manor-houses, or +gentlemen’s mansions, formerly stood, and stood, too, only about sixty +years ago. Every parish had its manor house in the first place; and then +there were, down this Valley, twenty-one others; so that, in this +distance of about thirty miles, there stood fifty mansion houses. Where +are they <i>now</i>? I believe there are but eight that are at all worthy of +the name of mansion houses; and even these are but poorly kept up, and, +except in two or three instances, are of no benefit to the labouring +people; they employ but few persons; and, in short, do not half supply +the place of any eight of the old mansions. All these mansions, all +these parsonages, aye, and their goods and furniture, together with the +clocks, the brass kettles, the brewing-vessels, the good bedding and +good clothes and good furniture, and the stock in pigs, or in money, of +the inferior classes, in this series of once populous and gay villages +and hamlets; all these have been by the accursed system of taxing and +funding and paper-money, by the well-known exactions of the state, and +by the not less real, though less generally understood, extortions of +the <i>monopolies</i> arising out of paper-money; all these have been, by +these accursed means, conveyed away, out of this Valley, to the haunts +of the tax-eaters and the monopolizers. There are many of the <i>mansion +houses</i>, the ruins of which you yet behold. At Milton there are two +mansion houses, the walls and the roofs of which yet remain, but which +are falling gradually to pieces, and the garden walls are crumbling +down. At Enford, Bennet, the Member for the county, had a large mansion +house, the stables of which are yet standing. In several places, I saw, +still remaining, indubitable traces of an ancient manor house, namely a +dove-cote or pigeon-house. The poor pigeons have kept possession of +their heritage, from generation to generation, and so have the rooks, in +their several rookeries, while the paper-system has swept away, or +rather swallowed-up, the owners of the dove-cotes and of the lofty +trees, about forty families of which owners have been ousted in this one +Valley, and have become dead-weight creatures, tax-gatherers, +barrack-fellows, thief-takers, or, perhaps, paupers or thieves.</p> + +<p>Senator Snip congratulated, some years ago, that preciously honourable +“Collective <i>Wisdom</i>” of which he is a most worthy Member; Snip +congratulated it on the success of the late war in creating capital! +Snip is, you must know, a great <i>feelosofer</i>, and a not less great +<i>feenanceer</i>. Snip cited, as a proof of the great and glorious effects +of paper-money, the new and fine houses in London, the new streets and +squares, the new roads,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> new canals and bridges. Snip was not, I dare +say, aware that this same paper-money had destroyed forty mansion houses +in this Vale of Avon, and had taken away all the goods, all the +substance, of the little gentry and of the labouring class. Snip was +not, I dare say, aware that this same paper-money had, in this one Vale +of only thirty miles long, dilapidated, and, in some cases, wholly +demolished, nine out of twenty-nine even of the parsonage houses. I told +Snip at the time (1821), that paper-money could create no valuable +thing. I begged Snip to bear this in mind. I besought all my readers, +and particularly Mr. Mathias Atwood (one of the members for +<i>Lowther</i>-town), not to believe that paper-money ever did, or ever +could, <i>create</i> anything of any value. I besought him to look well into +the matter, and assured him that he would find that though paper-money +could <i>create</i> nothing of value, it was able to <i>transfer</i> everything of +value; able to strip a little gentry; able to dilapidate even parsonage +houses; able to rob gentlemen of their estates, and labourers of their +Sunday-coats and their barrels of beer; able to snatch the dinner from +the board of the reaper or the mower, and to convey it to the +barrack-table of the Hessian or Hanoverian grenadier; able to take away +the wool, that ought to give warmth to the bodies of those who rear the +sheep, and put it on the backs of those who carry arms to keep the poor, +half-famished shepherds in order!</p> + +<p>I have never been able clearly to comprehend what the beastly Scotch +<i>feelosofers</i> mean by their “national wealth;” but, as far as I can +understand them, this is their meaning: that national wealth means that +which is <i>left</i> of the products of the country over and above what is +<i>consumed</i>, or <i>used</i>, by those whose labour causes the products to be. +This being the notion, it follows, of course, that the <i>fewer</i> poor +devils you can screw the products out of, the <i>richer</i> the nation is.</p> + +<p>This is, too, the notion of Burdett as expressed in his silly and most +nasty, musty aristocratic speech of last session. What, then, is to be +done with this <i>over-produce</i>? Who is to have it? Is it to go to +pensioners, placemen, tax-gatherers, dead-weight people, soldiers, +gendarmerie, police-people, and, in short, to whole millions <i>who do no +work at all</i>? Is this a cause of “national wealth”? Is a nation made +<i>rich</i> by taking the food and clothing from those who create them, and +giving them to those who do nothing of any use? Aye, but this +over-produce may be given to <i>manufacturers</i>, and to those who supply +the food-raisers with what they want besides food. Oh! but this is +merely an <i>exchange</i> of one valuable thing for another valuable thing; +it is an exchange of labour in Wiltshire for labour in Lancashire; and, +upon the whole, here is no <i>over-production</i>. If the produce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> be +exported, it is the same thing: it is an exchange of one sort of labour +for another. But <i>our course</i> is, that there is not an exchange; that +those who labour, no matter in what way, have a large part of the fruit +of their labour taken away, and receive nothing in exchange. If the +over-produce of this Valley of Avon were given, by the farmers, to the +weavers in Lancashire, to the iron and steel chaps of Warwickshire, and +to other makers or sellers of useful things, there would come an +abundance of all these useful things into this valley from Lancashire +and other parts: but if, as is the case, the over-produce goes to the +fund-holders, the dead-weight, the soldiers, the lord and lady and +master and miss pensioners and sinecure people; if the over-produce go +to them, as a very great part of it does, nothing, not even the parings +of one’s nails, can come back to the valley in exchange. And, can this +operation, then, add to the “national wealth”? It adds to the “wealth” +of those who carry on the affairs of state; it fills their pockets, +those of their relatives and dependents; it fattens all tax-eaters; but +it can give no wealth to the “nation,” which means the whole of the +people. National Wealth means the Commonwealth or Commonweal; and these +mean, the general good, or happiness, of the people, and the safety and +honour of the state; and these are not to be secured by robbing those +who labour, in order to support a large part of the community in +idleness. Devizes is the market-town to which the corn goes from the +greater part of this Valley. If, when a wagon-load of wheat goes off in +the morning, the wagon came back at night loaded with cloth, salt, or +something or other, equal in value to the wheat, except what might be +necessary to leave with the shopkeeper as his profit; then, indeed, the +people might see the wagon go off without tears in their eyes. But now +they see it go to carry away, and to bring next to nothing in return.</p> + +<p>What a <i>twist</i> a head must have before it can come to the conclusion +that the nation gains in wealth by the government being able to cause +the work to be done by those who have hardly any share in the fruit of +the labour! What a <i>twist</i> such a head must have! The Scotch +<i>feelosofers</i>, who seem all to have been, by nature, formed for +negro-drivers, have an insuperable objection to all those establishments +and customs which occasion <i>holidays</i>. They call them a great hindrance, +a great bar to industry, a great drawback from “national wealth.” I wish +each of these unfeeling fellows had a spade put into his hand for ten +days, only ten days, and that he were compelled to dig only just as much +as one of the common labourers at Fulham. The metaphysical gentlemen +would, I believe, soon discover the <i>use of holidays</i>! But <i>why</i> should +men, why should <i>any</i> men, work <i>hard</i>? Why,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> I ask, should they work +incessantly, if working part of the days of the week be sufficient? Why +should the people at Milton, for instance, work incessantly, when they +now raise food and clothing and fuel and every necessary to maintain +well five times their number? Why should they not have some holidays? +And, pray, say, thou conceited Scotch feelosofer, how the “national +wealth” can be increased by making these people work incessantly, that +they may raise food and clothing, to go to feed and clothe people who do +not work at all?</p> + +<p>The state of this Valley seems to illustrate the infamous and really +diabolical assertion of Malthus, which is, that the human kind have a +natural tendency <i>to increase beyond the means of sustenance for them</i>. +Hence, all the schemes of this and the other Scotch writers for what +they call checking population. Now, look at this Valley of Avon. Here +the people raise nearly twenty times as much food and clothing as they +consume. They raise five times as much, even according to my scale of +living. They have been doing this for many, many years. They have been +doing it for several generations. Where, then, is their natural tendency +to increase beyond the means of sustenance for them? Beyond, indeed, the +means of that sustenance which a system like this will leave them. Say +that, Sawneys, and I agree with you. Far beyond the means that the +taxing and monopolizing system will leave in their hands: that is very +true; for it leaves them nothing but the scale of the poor-book; they +must cease to breed at all, or they must exceed this mark; but the +<i>earth</i>, give them their fair share of its products, will always give +sustenance in sufficiency to those who apply to it by skilful and +diligent labour.</p> + +<p>The villages down this Valley of Avon, and, indeed, it was the same in +almost every part of this county, and in the North and West of Hampshire +also, used to have great employment for the women and children in the +carding and spinning of wool for the making of broad-cloth. This was a +very general employment for the women and girls; but it is now wholly +gone; and this has made a vast change in the condition of the people, +and in the state of property and of manners and of morals. In 1816, I +wrote and published a <i>Letter to the Luddites</i>, the object of which was +to combat their hostility to the use of machinery. The arguments I there +made use of were general. I took the matter in the abstract. The +<i>principles</i> were all correct enough; but their application cannot be +universal; and we have a case here before us, at this moment, which, in +my opinion, shows that the mechanic inventions, pushed to the extent +that they have been, have been productive of great calamity to this +country, and that they will be productive of still greater calamity;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +unless, indeed, it be their brilliant destiny to be the immediate cause +of putting an end to the present system.</p> + +<p>The greater part of manufactures consists of <i>clothing</i> and <i>bedding</i>. +Now, if by using a machine, we can get our coat with less labour than we +got it before, the machine is a desirable thing. But, then, mind, we +must have the machine at home, and we ourselves must have the profit of +it; for, if the machine be elsewhere; if it be worked by other hands; if +other persons have the profit of it; and if, in consequence of the +existence of the machine, we have hands at home, who have nothing to do, +and whom we must keep, then the machine is an injury to us, however +advantageous it may be to those who use it, and whatever traffic it may +occasion with foreign States.</p> + +<p>Such is the case with regard to this cloth-making. The machines are at +Upton-Level, Warminster, Bradford, Westbury, and Trowbridge, and here +are some of the hands in the Valley of Avon. This Valley raises food and +clothing; but, in order to raise them, it must have <i>labourers</i>. These +are absolutely necessary; for without them this rich and beautiful +Valley becomes worth nothing except to wild animals and their pursuers. +The labourers are <i>men</i> and <i>boys</i>. Women and girls occasionally; but +the men and the boys are as necessary as the light of day, or as the air +and the water. Now, if beastly Malthus, or any of his nasty disciples, +can discover a mode of having men and boys without having women and +girls, then, certainly, the machine must be a good thing; but if this +Valley must absolutely have the women and the girls, then the machine, +by leaving them with nothing to do, is a mischievous thing; and a +producer of most dreadful misery. What, with regard to the poor, is the +great complaint now? Why, that the <i>single man</i> does not receive the +same, or anything like the same, wages as the <i>married</i> man. Aye, it is +the wife and girls that are the burden; and to be sure a burden they +must be, under a system of taxation like the present, and with no work +to do. Therefore, whatever may be saved in labour by the machine is no +benefit, but an injury to the mass of the people. For, in fact, all that +the women and children earned was so much clear addition to what the +family earns now. The greatest part of the clothing in the United States +of America is made by the farm women and girls. They do almost the whole +of it; and all that they do is done at home. To be sure, they might buy +cheap; but they must buy for less than nothing, if it would not answer +their purpose to <i>make</i> the things.</p> + +<p>The survey of this Valley is, I think, the finest answer in the world to +the “Emigration Committee” fellows, and to Jerry Curteis (one of the +Members for Sussex), who has been giving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> “evidence” before it. I shall +find out, when I can get to see the <i>report</i>, what this “Emigration +Committee” would be <i>after</i>. I remember that, last winter, a young woman +complained to one of the Police Justices that the Overseers of some +parish were going to transport her orphan brother to Canada, because he +became chargeable to their parish! I remember, also, that the Justice +said, that the intention of the Overseers was “premature,” for that “the +Bill had not yet passed”! This was rather an ugly story; and I do think +that we shall find that there have been, and are, some pretty +propositions before this “Committee.” We shall see all about the matter, +however, by-and-by; and, when we get the transporting project fairly +before us, shall we not then loudly proclaim “the envy of surrounding +nations and admiration of the world”!</p> + +<p>But, what ignorance, impudence, and insolence must those base wretches +have, who propose to transport the labouring people, as being too +numerous, while the produce, which is obtained by their labour, is more +than sufficient for three, four, or five, or even ten times their +numbers! Jerry Curteis, who has, it seems, been a famous witness on this +occasion, says that the poor-rates, in many cases, amount to as much as +the rent. Well: and what then, Jerry? The rent may be high enough too, +and the farmer may afford to pay them both; for a very large part of +what you call <i>poor-rates</i> ought to be called <i>wages</i>. But, at any rate, +what has all this to do with the necessity of emigration? To make out +such necessity, you must make out that you have more mouths than the +produce of the parish will feed. Do then, Jerry, tell us, another time, +a little about the quantity of food annually raised in four or five +adjoining parishes; for, is it not something rather damnable, Jerry, to +talk of <i>transporting</i> Englishmen, on account of the <i>excess of their +numbers</i>, when the fact is notorious that their labour produces five or +ten times as much food and raiment as they and their families consume!</p> + +<p>However, to drop Jerry, for the present, the baseness, the foul, the +stinking, the carrion baseness, of the fellows that call themselves +“country gentlemen,” is, that the wretches, while railing against the +poor and the poor-rates; while affecting to believe that the poor are +wicked and lazy; while complaining that the poor, the working people, +are too numerous, and that the country villages are too populous: the +carrion baseness of these wretches is, that, while they are thus <i>bold</i> +with regard to the working and poor people, they never even whisper a +word against pensioners, placemen, soldiers, parsons, fundholders, +tax-gatherers, or tax-eaters! They say not a word against the prolific +dead-weight to whom they give a premium for breeding, while they want to +check the population of labourers!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> They never say a word about the too +great populousness of the Wen; nor about that of Liverpool, Manchester, +Cheltenham, and the like! Oh! they are the most cowardly, the very +basest, the most scandalously base reptiles that ever were warmed into +life by the rays of the sun!</p> + +<p>In taking my leave of this beautiful vale, I have to express my deep +shame, as an Englishman, at beholding the general <i>extreme poverty</i> of +those who cause this vale to produce such quantities of food and +raiment. This is, I verily believe it, the <i>worst used labouring people +upon the face of the earth</i>. Dogs and hogs and horses are treated with +more civility; and as to food and lodging, how gladly would the +labourers change with them! This state of things never can continue many +years! <i>By some means or other</i> there must be an end to it; and my firm +belief is, that that end will be dreadful. In the meanwhile I see, and I +see it with pleasure, that the common people know that they are ill +used; and that they cordially, most cordially, hate those who ill-treat +them.</p> + +<p>During the day I crossed the river about fifteen or sixteen times, and +in such hot weather it was very pleasant to be so much amongst meadows +and water. I had been at Netheravon about eighteen years ago, where I +had seen a great quantity of hares. It is a place belonging to Mr. Hicks +Beach, or Beech, who was once a member of parliament. I found the place +altered a good deal; out of repair; the gates rather rotten; and (a very +bad sign!) the roof of the dog-kennel falling in! There is a church, at +this village of Netheravon, large enough to hold a thousand or two of +people, and the whole parish contains only 350 souls, men, women and +children. This Netheravon was formerly a great lordship, and in the +parish there were three considerable mansion-houses, besides the one +near the church. These mansions are all down now; and it is curious +enough to see the former <i>walled gardens</i> become <i>orchards</i>, together +with other changes, all tending to prove the gradual decay in all except +what appertains merely to <i>the land</i> as a thing of production for the +distant market. But, indeed, the people and the means of enjoyment must +go away. They are <i>drawn</i> away by the taxes and the paper-money. How are +<i>twenty thousand new houses</i> to be, all at once, building in the Wen, +without people and food and raiment going from this valley towards the +Wen? It must be so; and this unnatural, this dilapidating, this ruining +and debasing work must go on, until that which produces it be destroyed.</p> + +<p>When I came down to Stratford Dean, I wanted to go across to Laverstoke, +which lay to my left of Salisbury; but just on the side of the road +here, at Stratford Dean, rises the <i>Accursed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> Hill</i>. It is very lofty. +It was <ins class="correction" title="original: orignally">originally</ins> a hill in an irregular sort of sugar-loaf shape: but +it was so altered by the Romans, or by somebody, that the upper +three-quarter parts of the hill now, when seen from a distance, somewhat +resemble <i>three cheeses</i>, laid one upon another; the bottom one a great +deal broader than the next, and the top one like a Stilton cheese, in +proportion to a Gloucester one. I resolved to ride over this Accursed +Hill. As I was going up a field towards it, I met a man going home from +work. I asked how he <i>got on</i>. He said, very badly. I asked him what was +the cause of it. He said the <i>hard times</i>. “What <i>times</i>,” said I; “was +there ever a finer summer, a finer harvest, and is there not an <i>old</i> +wheat-rick in every farm-yard?” “Ah!” said he, “<i>they</i> make it bad for +poor people, for all that.” “<i>They?</i>” said I, “who is <i>they</i>?” He was +silent. “Oh, no, no! my friend,” said I, “it is not <i>they</i>; it is that +Accursed Hill that has robbed you of the supper that you ought to find +smoking on the table when you get home.” I gave him the price of a pot +of beer, and on I went, leaving the poor dejected assemblage of skin and +bone to wonder at my words.</p> + +<p>The hill is very steep, and I dismounted and led my horse up. Being as +near to the top as I could conveniently get, I stood a little while +reflecting, not so much on the changes which that hill had seen, as on +the changes, the terrible changes, which, in all human probability, it +had <i>yet to see</i>, and which it would have greatly <i>helped to produce</i>. +It was impossible to stand on this accursed spot, without swelling with +indignation against the base and plundering and murderous sons of +corruption. I have often wished, and I, speaking out loud, expressed the +wish now: “May that man perish for ever and ever, who, having the power, +neglects to bring to justice the perjured, the suborning, the insolent +and perfidious miscreants, who openly sell their country’s rights and +their own souls.”</p> + +<p>From the Accursed Hill I went to Laverstoke where “Jemmy Burrough” (as +they call him here), the Judge, lives. I have not heard much about +“Jemmy” since he tried and condemned the two young men who had wounded +the game-keepers of Ashton Smith and Lord Palmerston. His Lordship +(Palmerston) is, I see, making a tolerable figure in the newspapers as a +<i>share-man</i>! I got into Salisbury about half-past seven o’clock, less +tired than I recollect ever to have been after so long a ride; for, +including my several crossings of the river and my deviations to look at +churches and farm-yards, and rick-yards, I think I must have ridden +nearly forty miles.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p> +<h3>RIDE FROM SALISBURY TO WARMINSTER, FROM WARMINSTER TO FROME, FROM FROME TO DEVIZES, AND FROM DEVIZES TO HIGHWORTH.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Hear this, O ye that swallow up the needy, even to make the poor +of the land to fail: saying, When will the new moon be gone that +we may sell corn? And the Sabbath, that we may set forth wheat, +making the Ephah small and the Shekel great, and falsifying the +balances by deceit; that we may buy the poor for silver, and the +needy for a pair of shoes; yea, and sell the refuse of the wheat? +Shall not the land tremble for this; and every one mourn that +dwelleth therein? I will turn your feasting into mourning, saith +the Lord God, and your songs into lamentations.”—Amos, chap. +viii. ver. 4 to 10.</p></div> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Heytesbury (Wilts), Thursday,<br />31st August, 1826.</i></p> + +<p>This place, which is one of the rotten boroughs of Wiltshire, and which +was formerly a considerable town, is now but a very miserable affair. +Yesterday morning I went into the Cathedral at Salisbury about 7 +o’clock. When I got into the nave of the church, and was looking up and +admiring the columns and the roof, I heard a sort of <i>humming</i>, in some +place which appeared to be in the transept of the building. I wondered +what it was, and made my way towards the place whence the noise appeared +to issue. As I approached it, the noise seemed to grow louder. At last, +I thought I could distinguish the sounds of the human voice. This +encouraged me to proceed; and, still following the sound, I at last +turned in at a doorway to my left, where I found a priest and his +congregation assembled. It was a parson of some sort, with a white +covering on him, and five women and four men: when I arrived, there were +five couple of us. I joined the congregation, until they came to the +<i>litany</i>; and then, being monstrously hungry, I did not think myself +bound to stay any longer. I wonder what the founders would say, if they +could rise from the grave, and see such a congregation as this in this +most magnificent and beautiful cathedral? I wonder what they would say, +if they could know <i>to what purpose</i> the endowments of this Cathedral +are now applied; and above all things, I wonder what they would say, if +they could see the half-starved labourers that now minister to the +luxuries of those who wallow in the wealth of those endowments. There is +one thing, at any rate, that might be abstained from, by those that +revel in the riches of those endowments; namely, to abuse and +blackguard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> those of our forefathers, from whom the endowments came, and +who erected the edifice, and carried so far towards the skies that +beautiful and matchless spire, of which the present possessors have the +impudence to boast, while they represent as ignorant and benighted +creatures, those who conceived the grand design, and who executed the +scientific and costly work. These fellows, in big white wigs, of the +size of half a bushel, have the audacity, even within the walls of the +Cathedrals themselves, to rail against those who founded them; and +Rennell and Sturges, while they were actually, literally, fattening on +the spoils of the monastery of St. Swithin, at Winchester, were +publishing abusive pamphlets against that Catholic religion which had +given them their very bread. For my part, I could not look up at the +spire and the whole of the church at Salisbury, without <i>feeling</i> that I +lived in degenerate times. Such a thing never could be made <i>now</i>. We +<i>feel</i> that as we look at the building. It really does appear that if +our forefathers had not made these buildings, we should have forgotten, +before now, what the Christian religion was!</p> + +<p>At Salisbury, or very near to it, four other rivers fall into the +Avon—the Wyly river, the Nadder, the Born, and another little river +that comes from Norrington. These all become one, at last, just below +Salisbury, and then, under the name of the Avon, wind along down and +fall into the sea at Christchurch. In coming from Salisbury, I came up +the road which runs pretty nearly parallel with the river Wyly, which +river rises at Warminster and in the neighbourhood. This river runs down +a valley twenty-two miles long. It is not so pretty as the valley of the +Avon; but it is very fine in its whole length from Salisbury to this +place (Heytesbury). Here are watered meadows nearest to the river on +both sides; then the gardens, the houses, and the corn-fields. After the +corn-fields come the downs; but, generally speaking, the downs are not +so bold here as they are on the sides of the Avon. The downs do not come +out in promontories so often as they do on the sides of the Avon. The +<i>Ah-ah!</i> if I may so express it, is not so deep, and the sides of it not +so steep, as in the case of the Avon; but the villages are as frequent; +there is more than one church in every mile, and there has been a due +proportion of mansion houses demolished and defaced. The farms are very +fine up this vale, and the meadows, particularly at a place called +Stapleford, are singularly fine. They had just been mowed at Stapleford, +and the hay carried off. At Stapleford, there is a little cross valley, +running up between two hills of the down. There is a little run of water +about a yard wide at this time, coming down this little vale across the +road into the river. The little vale runs up three miles. It does not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +appear to be half a mile wide; but in those three miles there are four +churches; namely, Stapleford, Uppington, Berwick St. James, and +Winterborne Stoke. The present population of these four villages is 769 +souls, men, women, and children, the whole of whom could very +conveniently be seated in the chancel of the church at Stapleford. +Indeed, the church and parish of Uppington seem to have been united with +one of the other parishes, like the parish in Kent which was united with +North Cray, and not a single house of which now remains. What were these +four churches <i>built for</i> within the distance of three miles? There are +three parsonage houses still remaining; but, and it is a very curious +fact, neither of them good enough for the parson to live in! Here are +seven hundred and sixty souls to be taken care of, but there is no +parsonage house for a soul-curer to stay in, or at least that he <i>will</i> +stay in; and all the three parsonages are, in the return laid before +Parliament, represented to be no better than miserable labourers’ +cottages, though the parish of Winterborne Stoke has a church sufficient +to contain two or three thousand people. The truth is, that the parsons +have been receiving the revenues of the livings, and have been suffering +the parsonage houses to fall into decay. Here were two or three mansion +houses, which are also gone, even from the sides of this little run of +water.</p> + +<p>To-day has been exceedingly hot. Hotter, I think, for a short time, than +I ever felt it in England before. In coming through a village called +Wishford, and mounting a little hill, I thought the heat upon my back +was as great as I had ever felt it in my life. There were thunder storms +about, and it had rained at Wishford a little before I came to it.</p> + +<p>My next village was one that I had lived in for a short time, when I was +only about ten or eleven years of age. I had been sent down with a horse +from Farnham, and I remember that I went by <i>Stone-henge</i>, and rode up +and looked at the stones. From Stone-henge I went to the village of +Steeple Langford, where I remained from the month of June till the fall +of the year. I remembered the beautiful villages up and down this +valley. I also remembered, very well, that the women at Steeple Langford +used to card and spin dyed wool. I was, therefore, somewhat filled with +curiosity to see this Steeple Langford again; and, indeed, it was the +recollection of this village that made me take a ride into Wiltshire +this summer. I have, I dare say, a thousand times talked about this +Steeple Langford and about the beautiful farms and meadows along this +valley. I have talked of these to my children a great many times; and I +formed the design of letting two of them see this valley this year, and +to go through Warminster to Stroud, and so on to Gloucester<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> and +Hereford. But, when I got to Everley, I found that they would never get +along fast enough to get into Herefordshire in time for what they +intended; so that I parted from them in the manner I have before +described. I was resolved, however, to see Steeple Langford myself, and +I was impatient to get to it, hoping to find a public-house, and a +stable to put my horse in, to protect him, for a while, against the +flies, which tormented him to such a degree, that to ride him was work +as hard as threshing. When I got to Steeple Langford, I found no +public-house, and I found it a much more miserable place than I had +remembered it. The <i>Steeple</i>, to which it owed its distinctive +appellation, was gone; and the place altogether seemed to me to be very +much altered for the worse. A little further on, however, I came to a +very famous inn, called Deptford Inn, which is in the parish of Wyly. I +stayed at this inn till about four o’clock in the afternoon. I +remembered Wyly very well, and thought it a gay place when I was a boy. +I remembered a very beautiful garden belonging to a rich farmer and +miller. I went to see it; but, alas! though the statues in the water and +on the grass-plat were still remaining, everything seemed to be in a +state of perfect carelessness and neglect. The living of this parish of +Wyly was lately owned by Dampier (a brother of the Judge), who lived at, +and I believe had the living of, Meon Stoke in Hampshire. This fellow, I +believe, never saw the parish of Wyly but once, though it must have +yielded him a pretty good fleece. It is a Rectory, and the great tithes +must be worth, I should think, six or seven hundred pounds a year, at +the least.</p> + +<p>It is a part of our system to have certain <i>families</i>, who have no +particular merit, but who are to be maintained, without why or +wherefore, at the public expense, in some shape, or under some name, or +other, it matters not much what shape or what name. If you look through +the old list of pensioners, sinecurists, parsons, and the like, you will +find the same names everlastingly recurring. They seem to be a sort of +creatures that have an <i>inheritance in the public carcass</i>, like the +maggots that some people have in their skins. This family of Dampier +seems to be one of these. What, in God’s name, should have made one of +these a Bishop and the other a Judge! I never heard of the smallest +particle of talent that either of them possessed. This Rector of Wyly +was another of them. There was no harm in them that I know of, beyond +that of living upon the public; but where were their merits? They had +none, to distinguish them, and to entitle them to the great sums they +received; and, under any other system than such a system as this, they +would, in all human probability, have been gentlemen’s servants or +little shopkeepers. I dare say there is some of the <i>breed</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> left; and, +if there be, I would pledge my existence, that they are, in some shape +or other, feeding upon the public. However, thus it must be, until that +change come which will put an end to men paying <i>fourpence</i> in tax upon +a pot of beer.</p> + +<p>This Deptford Inn was a famous place of meeting for the <i>Yeomanry +Cavalry</i>, in glorious anti-jacobin times, when wheat was twenty +shillings a bushel, and when a man could be crammed into gaol for years, +for only <i>looking</i> awry. This inn was a glorious place in the days of +Peg Nicholson and her Knights. Strangely altered now. The shape of the +garden shows you what revelry used to be carried on here. Peel’s Bill +gave this inn, and all belonging to it, a terrible souse. The unfeeling +brutes, who used to brandish their swords, and swagger about, at the +news of what was called “a victory,” have now to lower their scale in +clothing, in drink, in eating, in dress, in horseflesh, and everything +else. They are now a lower sort of men than they were. They look at +their rusty sword and their old dusty helmet and their once gay +regimental jacket. They do not hang these up now in the “parlour” for +everybody to see them: they hang them up in their bedrooms, or in a +cockloft; and when they meet their eye, they look at them as a cow does +at a bastard calf, or as the bridegroom does at a girl that the +overseers are about to compel him to marry. If their children should +happen to see these implements of war twenty or thirty years hence, they +will certainly think that their fathers were the greatest fools that +ever walked the face of the earth; and that will be a most filial and +charitable way of thinking of them; for it is not from ignorance that +they have sinned, but from excessive baseness; and when any of them now +complain of those acts of the Government which strip them, (as the late +Order in Council does), of a fifth part of their property in an hour, +let them recollect their own base and malignant conduct towards those +persecuted reformers, who, if they had not been suppressed by these very +yeomen, would, long ago, have put an end to the cause of that ruin of +which these yeomen now complain. When they complain of their ruin, let +them remember the toasts which they drank in anti-jacobin times; let +them remember their base and insulting exultations on the occasion of +the 16th of August at Manchester; let them remember their cowardly abuse +of men, who were endeavouring to free their country from that horrible +scourge which they themselves now feel.</p> + +<p>Just close by this Deptford Inn is the farm-house of the farm where that +Gourlay lived, who has long been making a noise in the Court of +Chancery, and who is now, I believe, confined in some place or other for +having assaulted Mr. Brougham. This fellow, who is confined, the +newspapers tell us, on a charge of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> being insane, is certainly one of +the most malignant devils that I ever knew anything of in my life. He +went to Canada about the time that I went last to the United States. He +got into a quarrel with the Government there about something, I know not +what. He came to see me, at my house in the neighbourhood of New York, +just before I came home. He told me his Canada story. I showed him all +the kindness in my power, and he went away, knowing that I was just then +coming to England. I had hardly got home, before the Scotch newspapers +contained communications from a person, pretending to derive his +information from Gourlay, relating to what Gourlay had described as +having passed between him and me; and which description was a tissue of +most abominable falsehoods, all having a direct tendency to do injury to +me, who had never, either by word or deed, done anything that could +possibly have a tendency to do injury to this Gourlay. What the vile +Scotch newspapers had begun, the malignant reptile himself continued +after his return to England, and, in an address to Lord Bathurst, +endeavoured to make his court to the Government by the most foul, false +and detestable slanders upon me, from whom, observe, he had never +received any injury, or attempt at injury, in the whole course of his +life; whom he had visited; to whose house he had gone, of his own +accord, and that, too, as he said, out of <i>respect</i> for me; endeavoured, +I say, to make his court to the Government by the most abominable +slanders against me. He is now, even now, putting forth, under the form +of letters to me, a revival of what he pretends was a <i>conversation</i> +that passed between us at my house near New York. Even if what he says +were true, none but caitiffs as base as those who conduct the English +newspapers, would give circulation to his letters, containing, as they +must, the substance of a conversation purely private. But I never had +any conversation with him: I never talked to him at all about the things +that he is now bringing forward. I heard the fellow’s stories about +Canada: I thought he told me lies; and, besides, I did not care a straw +whether his stories were true or not; I looked upon him as a sort of +gambling adventurer; but I treated him as is the fashion of the country +in which I was, with great civility and hospitality. There are two +fellows of the name of Jacob and Johnson at Winchester, and two fellows +at Salisbury of the name of Brodie and Dowding. These reptiles publish, +each couple of them, a newspaper; and in these newspapers they seem to +take particular delight in calumniating me. The two Winchester fellows +insert the letters of this half crazy, half cunning, Scotchman, Gourlay; +the other fellows insert still viler slanders; and, if I had seen one of +their papers, before I left Salisbury, which I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> seen since, I +certainly would have given Mr. Brodie something to make him remember me. +This fellow, who was a little coal-merchant but a short while ago, is +now, it seems, a paper-money maker, as well as a newspaper maker. Stop, +Master Brodie, till I go to Salisbury again, and see whether I do not +give you a <i>check</i>, even such as you did not receive during the late +run! Gourlay, amongst other whims, took it into his head to write +against the poor laws, saying that they were a bad thing. He found, +however, at last, that they were necessary to keep him from starving; +for he came down to Wyly, three or four years ago, and threw himself +upon the parish. The overseers, who recollected what a swaggering blade +it was, when it came here to teach the moon-rakers “hoo to farm, mon,” +did not see the sense of keeping him like a gentleman; so they set him +to crack stones upon the highway; and that set him off again, pretty +quickly. The farm that he rented is a very fine farm, with a fine large +farm-house to it. It is looked upon as one of the best farms in the +country: the present occupier is a farmer born in the neighbourhood; a +man such as ought to occupy it; and Gourlay, who came here with his +Scotch impudence to teach others how to farm, is much about where and +how he ought to be. Jacob and Johnson, of Winchester, know perfectly +well that all the fellow says about me is lies; they know also that +their parson readers know that it is a mass of lies: they further know +that the parsons know that they know that it is a mass of lies; but they +know that their paper will sell the better for that; they know that to +circulate lies about me will get them money, and this is what they do it +for, and such is the character of English newspapers, and of a great +part of the readers of those newspapers. Therefore, when I hear of +people “suffering;” when I hear of people being “ruined;” when I hear of +“unfortunate families;” when I hear a talk of this kind, I stop, before +I either express or feel compassion, to ascertain <i>who</i> and <i>what</i> the +sufferers are; and whether they have or have not participated in, or +approved of, acts like those of Jacob and Johnson and Brodie and +Dowding; for if they have, if they have malignantly calumniated those +who have been labouring to prevent their ruin and misery, then a crushed +ear-wig, or spider, or eft, or toad, is as much entitled to the +compassion of a just and sensible man. Let the reptiles perish: it would +be injustice; it would be to fly in the face of morality and religion to +express sorrow for their ruin. They themselves have felt for no man, and +for the wife and children of no man, if that man’s public virtues +thwarted their own selfish views, or even excited their groundless +fears. They have signed addresses, applauding everything tyrannical and +inhuman. They have seemed to glory in the shame of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> country, to +rejoice in its degradation, and even to exult in the shedding of +innocent blood, if these things did but tend, as they thought, to give +them permanent security in the enjoyment of their unjust gains. Such has +been their conduct; they are numerous: they are to be found in all parts +of the kingdom: therefore again I say, when I hear of “ruin” or +“misery,” I must know what the conduct of the sufferers has been before +I bestow my compassion.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Warminster (Wilts), Friday, 1st Sept.</i></p> + +<p>I set out from Heytesbury this morning about six o’clock. Last night, +before I went to bed, I found that there were some men and boys in the +house, who had come all the way from Bradford, about twelve miles, in +order to get <i>nuts</i>. These people were men and boys that had been +employed in the <i>cloth factories</i> at Bradford and about Bradford. I had +some talk with some of these nutters, and I am quite convinced, not that +the cloth making is at <i>an end</i>; but that it <i>never will be again what +it has been</i>. Before last Christmas these manufacturers had full work, +at one shilling and threepence a yard at broad-cloth weaving. They have +now a quarter work, at one shilling a yard! One and three-pence a yard +for this weaving has been given at all times within the memory of man! +Nothing can show more clearly than this, and in a stronger light, the +great change which has taken place in the <i>remuneration of labour</i>. +There was a turn out last winter, when the price was reduced to a +shilling a yard; but it was put an end to in the usual way; the +constable’s staff, the bayonet, the gaol. These poor nutters were +extremely ragged. I saved my supper, and I fasted instead of +breakfasting. That was three shillings, which I had saved, and I added +five to them, with a resolution to save them afterwards, in order to +give these chaps a breakfast for once in their lives. There were eight +of them, six men and two boys; and I gave them two quartern loaves, two +pounds of cheese, and eight pints of strong beer. The fellows were very +thankful, but the conduct of the landlord and landlady pleased me +exceedingly. When I came to pay my bill, they had said nothing about my +bed, which had been a very good one; and, when I asked why they had not +put the bed into the bill, they said they would not charge anything for +the bed since I had been so good to the poor men. Yes, said I, but I +must not throw the expense upon you. I had no supper, and I have had no +breakfast; and, therefore, I am not called upon to pay for them: but <i>I +have had</i> the bed. It ended by my paying for the bed, and coming off, +leaving the nutters at their breakfast, and very much delighted with the +landlord and his wife; and I must here observe that I have pretty +generally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> found a good deal of compassion for the poor people to +prevail amongst publicans and their wives.</p> + +<p>From Heytesbury to Warminster is a part of the country singularly bright +and beautiful. From Salisbury up to very near Heytesbury, you have the +valley, as before described by me. Meadows next the water; then arable +land; then the downs; but when you come to Heytesbury, and indeed a +little before, in looking forward you see the vale stretch out, from +about three miles wide to ten miles wide, from high land to high land. +From a hill before you come down to Heytesbury, you see through this +wide opening into Somersetshire. You see a round hill rising in the +middle of the opening; but all the rest a flat enclosed country, and +apparently full of wood. In looking back down this vale one cannot help +being struck with the innumerable proofs that there are of a decline in +point of population. In the first place, there are twenty-four parishes, +each of which takes a little strip across the valley, and runs up +through the arable land into the down. There are twenty-four parish +churches, and there ought to be as many <i>parsonage-houses</i>; but seven of +these, out of the twenty-four, that is to say, nearly one-third of them, +are, in the returns laid before Parliament (and of which returns I shall +speak more particularly by-and-by), stated to be such miserable +dwellings as to be unfit for a parson to reside in. Two of them, +however, are gone. There are no parsonage-houses in those two parishes: +there are the scites; there are the glebes; but the houses have been +suffered to fall down and to be totally carried away. The tithes remain, +indeed, and the parson sacks the amount of them. A journeyman parson +comes and works in three or four churches of a Sunday; but the master +parson is not there. He generally carries away the produce to spend it +in London, at Bath, or somewhere else, to show off his daughters; and +the overseers, that is to say, the farmers, manage the poor in their own +way, instead of having, according to the ancient law, a third-part of +all the tithes to keep them with.</p> + +<p>The falling down and the beggary of these parsonage-houses prove beyond +all question the decayed state of the population. And, indeed, the +mansion-houses are gone, except in a very few instances. There are but +five left, that I could perceive, all the way from Salisbury to +Warminster, though the country is the most pleasant that can be +imagined. Here is water, here are meadows; plenty of fresh-water fish; +hares and partridges in abundance, and it is next to impossible to +destroy them. Here are shooting, coursing, hunting; hills of every +height, size, and form; valleys, the same; lofty trees and rookeries in +every mile; roads always solid and good; always pleasant for exercise;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> +and the air must be of the best in the world. Yet it is manifest that +four-fifths of the mansions have been swept away. There is a +parliamentary return, to prove that nearly a third of the parsonage +houses have become beggarly holes or have disappeared. I have now been +in nearly threescore villages, and in twenty or thirty or forty hamlets +of Wiltshire; and I do not know that I have been in one, however small, +in which I did not see a house or two, and sometimes more, either +tumbled down, or beginning to tumble down. It is impossible for the eyes +of man to be fixed on a finer country than that between the village of +Codford and the town of Warminster; and it is not very easy for the eyes +of man to discover labouring people more miserable. There are two +villages, one called Norton Bovant, and the other Bishopstrow, which I +think form, together, one of the prettiest spots that my eyes ever +beheld. The former village belongs to Bennet, the member for the county, +who has a mansion there, in which two of his sisters live, I am told. +There is a farm at Bishopstrow, standing at the back of the arable land, +up in a vale, formed by two very lofty hills, upon each of which there +was formerly a Roman Camp, in consideration of which farm, if the owner +would give it to me, I would almost consent to let Ottiwell Wood remain +quiet in his seat, and suffer the pretty gentlemen of Whitehall to go on +without note or comment till they had fairly blowed up their concern. +The farm-yard is surrounded by lofty and beautiful trees. In the +rick-yard I counted twenty-two ricks of one sort and another. The hills +shelter the house and the yard and the trees, most completely, from +every wind but the south. The arable land goes down before the house, +and spreads along the edge of the down, going, with a gentle slope, down +to the meadows. So that, going along the turnpike road, which runs +between the lower fields of the arable land, you see the large and +beautiful flocks of sheep upon the sides of the down, while the +horn-cattle are up to their eyes in grass in the meadows. Just when I +was coming along here, the sun was about half an hour high; it shined +through the trees most brilliantly; and, to crown the whole, I met, just +as I was entering the village, a very pretty girl, who was apparently +going a gleaning in the fields. I asked her the name of the place, and +when she told me it was Bishopstrow, she pointed to the situation of the +church, which, she said, was on the other side of the river. She really +put me in mind of the pretty girls at Preston who spat upon the +“individual” of the Derby family, and I made her a bow accordingly.</p> + +<p>The whole of the population of the twenty-four parishes down this vale, +amounts to only 11,195 souls, according to the Official return to +Parliament; and, mind, I include the parish of Fisherton Anger (a suburb +of the city of Salisbury),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> which contains 893 of the number. I include +the town of Heytesbury, with its 1,023 souls; and I further include this +very good and large market town of Warminster, with its population of +5,000! So that I leave, in the other twenty-one parishes, only 4,170 +souls, men, women, and children! That is to say, a hundred and +ninety-eight souls to each parish; or, reckoning five to a family, +thirty-nine families to each parish. Above one half of the population +never could be expected to be in the church at one time; so that here +are one-and-twenty churches built for the purpose of holding two +thousand and eighty people! There are several of these churches, any one +of which would conveniently contain the whole of these people, the two +thousand and eighty! The church of Bishopstrow would contain the whole +of the two thousand and eighty very well indeed; and it is curious +enough to observe that the churches of Fisherton Anger, Heytesbury, and +Warminster, though quite sufficient to contain the people that go to +church, are none of them nearly so big as several of the village +churches. All these churches are built long and long before the reign of +Richard the Second; that is to say, they were founded long before that +time, and if the first churches were gone, these others were built in +their stead. There is hardly one of them that is not as old as the reign +of Richard the Second; and yet that impudent Scotchman, George Chalmers, +would make us believe that, in the reign of Richard the Second, the +population of the country was hardly anything at all! He has the +impudence, or the gross ignorance, to state the population of England +and Wales at <i>two millions</i>, which, as I have shown in the last Number +of the Protestant Reformation, would allow only twelve able men to every +parish church throughout the kingdom. What, I ask, for about the +thousandth time I ask it; what were these twenty churches built for? +Some of them stand within a quarter of a mile of each other. They are +pretty nearly as close to each other as the churches in London and +Westminster are.</p> + +<p>What a monstrous thing, to suppose that they were built without there +being people to go to them; and built, too, without money and without +hands! The whole of the population in these twenty-one parishes could +stand, and without much crowding too, in the bottoms of the towers of +the several churches. Nay, in three or four of the parishes, the whole +of the people could stand in the church porches. Then the <i>church-yards</i> +show you how numerous the population must have been. You see, in some +cases, only here and there the mark of a grave, where the church-yard +contains from half an acre to an acre of land, and sometimes more. In +short, everything shows that here was once a great and opulent +population; that there was an abundance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> to eat, to wear, and to spare; +that all the land that is now under cultivation, and a great deal that +is not now under cultivation, was under cultivation in former times. The +Scotch beggars would make us believe that <i>we</i> sprang from beggars. The +impudent scribes would make us believe that England was formerly nothing +at all till they came to enlighten it and fatten upon it. Let the +beggars answer me this question; let the impudent, the brazen scribes, +that impose upon the credulous and cowed-down English; let them tell me +<i>why</i> these twenty-one churches were built; what they were built <span class="smcaplc">FOR</span>; +why the large churches of the two Codfords were stuck up within a few +hundred yards of each other, if the whole of the population could then, +as it can now, be crammed into the chancel of either of the two +churches? Let them answer me this question, or shut up their mouths upon +this subject, on which they have told so many lies.</p> + +<p>As to the produce of this valley, it must be at least ten times as great +as its consumption, even if we include the three towns that belong to +it. I am sure I saw produce enough in five or six of the farm-yards, or +rick-yards, to feed the whole of the population of the twenty-one +parishes. But the infernal system causes it all to be carried away. Not +a bit of good beef, or mutton, or veal, and scarcely a bit of bacon is +left for those who raise all this food and wool. The labourers here +<i>look</i> as if they were half-starved. They answer extremely well to the +picture that Fortescue gave of the French in his day.</p> + +<p>Talk of “liberty,” indeed; “civil and religious liberty”: the +Inquisition, with a belly full, is far preferable to a state of things +like this. For my own part, I really am ashamed to ride a fat horse, to +have a full belly, and to have a clean shirt upon my back, while I look +at these wretched countrymen of mine; while I actually see them reeling +with weakness; when I see their poor faces present me nothing but skin +and bone, while they are toiling to get the wheat and the meat ready to +be carried away to be devoured by the tax-eaters. I am ashamed to look +at these poor souls, and to reflect that they are my countrymen; and +particularly to reflect that we are descended from those amongst whom +“beef, pork, mutton, and veal, were the food of the poorer sort of +people.” What! and is the “Emigration Committee” sitting, to invent the +means of getting rid of some part of the thirty-nine families that are +employed in raising the immense quantities of food in each of these +twenty-one parishes? Are there <i>schemers</i> to go before this conjuration +Committee; Wiltshire <i>schemers</i>, to tell the Committee how they can get +rid of a part of these one hundred and ninety-eight persons to every +parish? Are there schemers of this sort of work still, while no man, no +man at all, not a single man, says a word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> about getting rid of the +dead-weight, or the supernumerary parsons, both of whom have actually a +premium given them for breeding, and are filling the country with +idlers? We are reversing the maxim of the Scripture: our laws almost +say, that those that work shall not eat, and that those who do not work +shall have the food. I repeat, that the baseness of the English +land-owners surpasses that of any other men that ever lived in the +world. The cowards know well that the labourers that give value to their +land are skin and bone. They are not such brutes as not to know that +this starvation is produced by taxation. They know well, how unjust it +is to treat their labourers in this way. They know well that there goes +down the common foot soldier’s single throat more food than is allowed +by them to a labourer, his wife, and three children. They know well that +the present standing army in time of peace consumes more food and +raiment than a million of the labourers consume; aye, than two millions +of them consume; if you include the women and the children; they well +know these things; they know that their poor labourers are taxed to keep +this army in fatness and in splendour. They know that the dead-weight, +which, in the opinion of most men of sense, ought not to receive a +single farthing of the public money, swallow more of good food than a +third or a fourth part of the real labourers of England swallow. They +know that a million and a half of pounds sterling was taken out of the +taxes, partly raised upon the labourers, to enable the poor Clergy of +the Church of England to marry and to breed. They know that a regulation +has been recently adopted, by which an old dead-weight man is enabled to +sell his dead-weight to a young man; and that thus this burden would, if +the system were to be continued, be rendered perpetual. They know that a +good slice of the dead-weight money goes <i>to Hanover</i>; and that even +these Hanoverians can sell their dead-weight claim upon us. The “country +gentlemen” fellows know all this: they know that the poor labourers, +including all the poor manufacturers, pay one-half of their wages in +taxes to support all these things; and yet not a word about these things +is ever said, or even hinted, by these mean, these cruel, these +cowardly, these carrion, these dastardly reptiles. Sir James Graham, of +Netherby, who, I understand, is a young fellow instead of an old one, +may invoke our pity upon these “ancient families,” but he will invoke in +vain. It was their duty to stand forward and prevent +Power-of-Imprisonment Bills, Six Acts, Ellenborough’s Act, Poaching +Transportation Act, New Trespass Act, Sunday Tolls, and the hundreds of +other things that could be named. On the contrary, <i>they were the cause +of them all</i>. They were the cause of all the taxes, and all the debts; +and now let them take the consequences!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Saturday, September 2nd.</i></p> + +<p>After I got to Warminster yesterday, it began to rain, which stopped me +in my way to Frome in Somersetshire, which lies about seven or eight +miles from this place; but, as I meant to be quite in the northern part +of the county by to-morrow noon, or there-abouts, I took a post-chaise +in the afternoon of yesterday and went to Frome, where I saw, upon my +entrance into the town, between two and three hundred weavers, men and +boys, cracking stones, moving earth, and doing other sorts of work, +towards making a fine road into the town. I drove into the town, and +through the principal streets, and then I put my chaise up a little at +one of the inns.</p> + +<p>This appears to be a sort of little Manchester. A very small Manchester, +indeed; for it does not contain above ten or twelve thousand people, but +it has all the <i>flash</i> of a Manchester, and the innkeepers and their +people look and behave like the Manchester fellows. I was, I must +confess, glad to find proofs of the irretrievable decay of the place. I +remembered how ready the bluff manufacturers had been to <i>call in the +troops</i> of various descriptions. “Let them,” said I to myself, “call the +troops in now, to make their trade revive. Let them now resort to their +friends of the yeomanry and of the army; let them now threaten their +poor workmen with the gaol, when they dare to ask for the means of +preventing starvation in their families. Let them, who have, in fact, +lived and thriven by the sword, now call upon the parson-magistrate to +bring out the soldiers to compel me, for instance, to give thirty +shillings a yard for the superfine black broad cloth (made at Frome), +which Mr. Roe, at Kensington, offered me at seven shillings and sixpence +a yard just before I left home! Yes, these men have ground down into +powder those who were earning them their fortunes: let the grinders +themselves now be ground, and, according to the usual wise and just +course of Providence, let them be crushed by the system which they have +delighted in, because it made others crouch beneath them.” Their poor +work-people cannot be worse off than they long have been. The parish +pay, which they now get upon the roads, is 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week for a man, +2<i>s.</i> for his wife, 1<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> for each child under eight years of age, +3<i>d.</i> a week, in addition, to each child above eight, who can go to +work: and, if the children above eight years old, whether girls or boys, +do not go to work upon the road, they have <i>nothing</i>! Thus, a family of +five people have just as much, and eight pence over, as goes down the +throat of one single foot soldier; but, observe, the standing soldier; +that “truly English institution” has clothing, fuel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> candle, soap, and +house-rent, over and above what is allowed to this miserable family! And +yet the base reptiles, who are called “country gentlemen,” and whom Sir +James Graham calls upon us to commit all sorts of acts of injustice in +order to <i>preserve</i>, never utter a whisper about the expenses of keeping +the soldiers, while they are everlastingly railing against the working +people, of every description, and representing them, and them only, as +the cause of the loss of their estates!</p> + +<p>These poor creatures at Frome have pawned all their things, or nearly +all. All their best clothes, their blankets and sheets; their looms; any +little piece of furniture that they had, and that was good for anything. +Mothers have been compelled to pawn all the tolerably good clothes that +their children had. In case of a man having two or three shirts, he is +left with only one, and sometimes without any shirt; and, though this is +a sort of manufacture that cannot very well come to a complete end, +still it has received a blow from which it cannot possibly recover. The +population of this Frome has been augmented to the degree of one-third +within the last six or seven years. There are here all the usual signs +of accommodation bills and all false paper stuff, called money: new +houses, in abundance, half finished; new gingerbread “places of +worship,” as they are called; great swaggering inns; parcels of +swaggering fellows going about, with vulgarity imprinted upon their +countenances, but with good clothes upon their backs.</p> + +<p>I found the working people at Frome very intelligent; very well informed +as to the cause of their misery; not at all humbugged by the canters, +whether about religion or loyalty. When I got to the inn, I sent my +post-chaise boy back to the road, to tell one or two of the weavers to +come to me at the inn. The landlord did not at first like to let such +ragged fellows upstairs. I insisted, however, upon their coming up, and +I had a long talk with them. They were very intelligent men; had much +clearer views of what is likely to happen than the pretty gentlemen of +Whitehall seem to have; and, it is curious enough, that they, these +common weavers, should tell me, that they thought that the trade never +would come back again to what it was before; or, rather, to what it has +been for some years past. This is the impression everywhere; that the +<i>puffing is over</i>; that we must come back again to something like +reality. The first factories that I met with were at a village called +Upton Lovell, just before I came to Heytesbury. There they were a-doing +not more than a quarter work. There is only one factory, I believe, here +at Warminster, and that has been suspended, during the harvest, at any +rate. At Frome they are all upon about a quarter work. It is the same at +Bradford and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>Trowbridge; and, as curious a thing as ever was heard of +in the world is, that here are, through all these towns, and throughout +this country, weavers from the North, singing about the towns ballads of +Distress! They had been doing it at Salisbury, just before I was there. +The landlord at Heytesbury told me that people that could afford it +generally gave them something; and I was told that they did the same at +Salisbury. The landlord at Heytesbury told me, that every one of them +had a <i>license to beg</i>, given them, he said, “by the Government.” I +suppose it was some <i>pass</i> from a Magistrate; though I know of no law +that allows of such passes; and a pretty thing it would be, to grant +such licenses, or such passes, when the law so positively commands, that +the poor of every parish shall be maintained in and by every such +parish.</p> + +<p>However, all law of this sort, all salutary and humane law, really seems +to be drawing towards an end in this now miserable country, where the +thousands are caused to wallow in luxury, to be surfeited with food and +drink, while the millions are continually on the point of famishing. In +order to form an idea of the degradation of the people of this country, +and of the abandonment of every English principle, what need we of more +than this one disgraceful and truly horrible fact, namely, that <i>the +common soldiers, of the standing army in time of peace, subscribe, in +order to furnish the meanest of diet to keep from starving the +industrious people who are taxed to the amount of one-half of their +wages, and out of which taxes the very pay of these soldiers comes</i>! Is +not this one fact; this disgraceful, this damning fact; is not this +enough to convince us, that <i>there must be a change</i>; that there must be +a complete and radical change; or, that England must become a country of +the basest slavery that ever disgraced the earth?</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Devizes, (Wilts),<br />Sunday Morning, 3rd Sept.</i></p> + +<p>I left Warminster yesterday at about one o’clock. It is contrary to my +practice to set out at all, unless I can do it early in the morning; but +at Warminster I was at the South-West corner of this county, and I had +made a sort of promise to be to-day at Highworth, which is at the +North-East corner, and which parish, indeed, joins up to Berkshire. The +distance, including my little intended deviations, was more than fifty +miles; and, not liking to attempt it in one day, I set off in the middle +of the day, and got here in the evening, just before a pretty heavy rain +came on.</p> + +<p>Before I speak of my ride from Warminster to this place, I must once +more observe, that Warminster is a very nice town;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> everything belonging +to it is <i>solid</i> and <i>good</i>. There are no villanous gingerbread houses +running up, and no nasty, shabby-genteel people; no women trapesing +about with showy gowns and dirty necks; no jew-looking fellows with +dandy coats, dirty shirts, and half-heels to their shoes. A really nice +and good town. It is a great corn-market: one of the greatest in this +part of England; and here things are still conducted in the good, old, +honest fashion. The corn is brought and pitched in the market before it +is sold; and, when sold, it is paid for on the nail; and all is over, +and the farmers and millers gone home by day-light. Almost everywhere +else the corn is sold by sample; it is sold by juggling in a corner; the +parties meet and drink first; it is night work; there is no fair and +open market; the mass of the people do not know what the prices are; and +all this favours that <i>monopoly</i> which makes the corn change hands many +times, perhaps, before it reaches the mouth, leaving a profit in each +pair of hands, and which monopoly is, for the greater part, carried on +by the villanous tribe of <i>Quakers</i>, <i>none of whom ever work</i>, and all +of whom prey upon the rest of the community, as those infernal devils, +the wasps, prey upon the bees. Talking of the Devil, puts one in mind of +his imps; and talking of <i>Quakers</i>, puts one in mind of Jemmy Cropper of +Liverpool. I should like to know precisely (I know pretty nearly) what +effect “late panic” has had, and is having, on Jemmy! Perhaps the reader +will recollect, that Jemmy told the public, through the columns of base +Bott Smith, that “Cobbett’s prophecies were falsified as soon as +spawned.” Jemmy, canting Jemmy, has now had time to ruminate on that! +But does the reader remember James’s project for “making Ireland as +happy as England”? It was simply by introducing cotton-factories, +steam-engines, and power-looms! That was all; and there was Jemmy in +Ireland, speech-making before such Lords and such Bishops and such +’Squires as God never suffered to exist in the world before: there was +Jemmy, showing, proving, demonstrating, that to make the Irish +cotton-workers would infallibly make them <i>happy</i>! If it had been now, +instead of being two years ago, he might have produced the reports of +the starvation-committees of Manchester to confirm his opinions. One +would think, that this instance of the folly and impudence of this +canting son of the monopolizing sect, would cure this public of its +proneness to listen to cant; but nothing will cure it; the very +existence of this sect, none of whom ever work, and the whole of whom +live like fighting-cocks upon the labour of the rest of the community; +the very <i>existence</i> of such a sect shows, that the nation is, almost in +its nature, <i>a dupe</i>. There has been a great deal of railing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> against +the King of Spain; not to becall the King of Spain is looked upon as a +proof of want of “liberality,” and what must it be, then, to <i>applaud</i> +any of the acts of the King of Spain! This I am about to do, however, +think Dr. Black of it what he may.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the mass of the people of Spain are better off, +better fed, better clothed, than the people of any other country in +Europe, and much better than the people of England are. That is one +thing; and that is almost enough of itself. In the next place, the King +of Spain has refused to mortgage the land and labour of his people for +the benefit of an infamous set of Jews and Jobbers. Next, the King of +Spain has most essentially thwarted the Six-Acts people, the Manchester +16th of August, the Parson Hay, the Sidmouth’s Circular, the Dungeoning, +the Ogden’s rupture people; he has thwarted, and most cuttingly annoyed, +these people, who are also the poacher-transporting people, and the new +trespass law, and the apple-felony and the horse-police (or gendarmerie) +and the Sunday-toll people: the King of Spain has thwarted all these, +and he has materially assisted in blowing up the brutal big fellows of +Manchester; and therefore I applaud the King of Spain.</p> + +<p>I do not much like weasels; but I hate rats; and therefore I say success +to the weasels. But there is one act of the King of Spain which is +worthy of the imitation of every King, aye, and of every republic too; +his edict for taxing traffickers, which edict was published about eight +months ago. It imposes a pretty heavy annual tax on every one who is a +<i>mere buyer and seller</i>, and who neither produces nor consumes, nor +makes, nor changes the state of, the article, or articles, that he buys +and sells. Those who bring things into the kingdom are deemed producers, +and those who send things out of the kingdom are deemed changers of the +state of things. These two classes embrace all <i>legitimate merchants</i>. +Thus, then, the farmer, who produces corn and meat and wool and wood, is +not taxed; nor is the coach-master who buys the corn to give to his +horses, nor the miller who buys it to change the state of it, nor the +baker who buys the flour to change its state; nor is the manufacturer +who buys the wool to change its state; and so on: but the Jew or Quaker, +the <i>mere dealer</i>, who buys the corn of the producer to sell it to the +miller, and to deduct <i>a profit</i>, which must, at last, fall upon the +consumer; this Jew, or Quaker, or self-styled Christian, who acts the +part of Jew or Quaker, is taxed by the King of Spain; and for this I +applaud the King of Spain.</p> + +<p>If we had a law like this, the pestiferous sect of non-labouring, sleek +and fat hypocrites could not exist in England. But ours<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> is, altogether, +<i>a system of monopolies</i>, created by taxation and paper-money, from +which monopolies are inseparable. It is notorious that the brewer’s +monopoly is the master even of the Government; it is well known to all +who examine and reflect that a very large part of our bread comes to our +mouths loaded with the profit of nine or ten, or more, different +dealers; and I shall, as soon as I have leisure, prove as clearly as +anything ever was proved, that the people pay two millions of pounds a +year in consequence of the Monopoly in tea! that is to say, they pay two +millions a year more than they would pay were it not for the monopoly; +and, mind, I do not mean the monopoly of the East India Company, but the +monopoly of the Quaker and other Tea Dealers, who buy the tea of that +Company! The people of this country are eaten up by monopolies. These +compel those who labour to maintain those who do not labour; and hence +the success of the crafty crew of Quakers, the very <i>existence</i> of which +sect is a disgrace to the country.</p> + +<p>Besides the corn market at Warminster, I was delighted, and greatly +surprised, to see the <i>meat</i>. Not only the very finest veal and lamb +that I had ever seen in my life, but so exceedingly beautiful that I +could hardly believe my eyes. I am a great connoisseur in joints of +meat; a great judge, if five-and-thirty years of experience can give +sound judgment. I verily believe that I have bought and have roasted +more whole sirloins of beef than any man in England; I know all about +the matter; a very great visitor of Newgate market; in short, though a +little eater, I am a very great provider. It is a fancy, I like the +subject, and therefore I understand it; and with all this knowledge of +the matter, I say I never saw veal and lamb half so fine as what I saw +at Warminster. The town is famed for fine meat; and I knew it, and, +therefore, I went out in the morning to look at the meat. It was, too, +2<i>d.</i> a pound cheaper than I left it at Kensington.</p> + +<p>My road from Warminster to Devizes lay through Westbury, a nasty odious +rotten-borough, a really rotten place. It has cloth factories in it, and +they seem to be ready to tumble down as well as many of the houses. +God’s curse seems to be upon most of these rotten-boroughs. After coming +through this miserable hole, I came along, on the north side of the +famous hill, called Bratton Castle, so renowned in the annals of the +Romans and of Alfred the Great. Westbury is a place of great ancient +grandeur; and it is easy to perceive that it was once ten or twenty +times its present size. My road was now the line of separation between +what they call South Wilts and North Wilts, the former consisting of +high and broad downs and narrow valleys with meadows and rivers running +down them; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> latter consisting of a rather flat, enclosed country: +the former having a chalk bottom; the latter a bottom of marl, clay, or +flat stone: the former a country for lean sheep and corn; and the latter +a country for cattle, fat sheep, cheese, and bacon: the former by far, +to my taste, the most beautiful; and I am by no means sure that it is +not, all things considered, the most rich. All my way along, till I came +very near to Devizes, I had the steep and naked downs up to my right, +and the flat and enclosed country to my left.</p> + +<p>Very near to Bratton Castle (which is only a hill with deep ditches on +it) is the village of Eddington, so famed for the battle fought here by +Alfred and the Danes. The church in this village would contain several +thousands of persons; and the village is reduced to a few straggling +houses. The land here is very good; better than almost any I ever saw; +as black, and, apparently, as rich, as the land in the market-gardens at +Fulham. The turnips are very good all along here for several miles; but +this is, indeed, singularly fine and rich land. The orchards very fine; +finely sheltered, and the crops of apples and pears and walnuts very +abundant. Walnuts <i>ripe now</i>, a month earlier than usual. After +Eddington I came to a hamlet called Earl’s Stoke, the houses of which +stand at a few yards from each other on the two sides of the road; every +house is white; and the front of every one is covered with some sort or +other of clematis, or with rose-trees, or jasmines. It was easy to guess +that the whole belonged to one owner; and that owner I found to be a Mr. +Watson Taylor, whose very pretty seat is close by the hamlet, and in +whose park-pond I saw what I never saw before; namely, some <i>black +swans</i>. They are not nearly so large as the white, nor are they so +stately in their movements. They are a meaner bird.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Highworth (Wilts),<br />Monday, 4th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>I got here yesterday, after a ride, including my deviations, of about +thirty-four miles, and that, too, <i>without breaking my fast</i>. Before I +got into the rotten-borough of Calne, I had two <i>tributes</i> to pay to the +Aristocracy; namely, two <i>Sunday tolls</i>; and I was resolved that the +country in which these tolls were extorted should have not a farthing of +my money that I could by any means keep from it. Therefore I fasted +until I got into the free-quarters in which I now am. I would have made +my horse fast too, if I could have done it without the risk of making +him unable to carry me.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> +<h3>RIDE FROM HIGHWORTH TO CRICKLADE AND THENCE TO MALMSBURY.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Highworth (Wilts),<br />Monday, 4th Sept. 1826.</i></p> + +<p>When I got to Devizes on Saturday evening, and came to look out of the +inn-window into the street, I perceived that I had seen that place +before, and always having thought that I should like to <i>see</i> Devizes, +of which I had heard so much talk as a famous corn-market, I was very +much surprised to find that it was not new to me. Presently a +stage-coach came up to the door, with “Bath and London” upon its panels; +and then I recollected that I had been at this place on my way to +Bristol last year. Devizes is, as nearly as possible, in the centre of +the county, and the <i>canal</i> that passes close by it is the great channel +through which the produce of the country is carried away to be devoured +by the idlers, the thieves, and the prostitutes, who are all tax-eaters, +in the Wens of Bath and London. Pottern, which I passed through in my +way from Warminster to Devizes, was once a place much larger than +Devizes; and it is now a mere ragged village, with a church large, very +ancient, and of most costly structure. The whole of the people here +might, as in most other cases, be placed in the <i>belfry</i>, or the +church-porches.</p> + +<p>All the way along the mansion-houses are nearly all gone. There is now +and then a great place, belonging to a borough-monger, or some one +connected with borough-mongers; but all the <i>little gentlemen</i> are gone; +and hence it is that parsons are now made justices of the peace! There +are few other persons left who are at all capable of filling the office +in a way to suit the system! The monopolizing brewers and rag-rooks are, +in some places, the “magistrates;” and thus is the whole thing +<i>changed</i>, and England is no more what it was. Very near to the sides of +my road from Warminster to Devizes there were formerly (within a hundred +years) 22 mansion-houses of sufficient note to be marked as such in the +county-map then made. There are now only seven of them remaining. There +were five parish-churches nearly close to my road; and in one parish out +of the five the parsonage-house is, in the parliamentary return, said to +be “too small” for the parson to live in, though the church would +contain two or three thousand people, and though the living is a +Rectory, and a rich one too! Thus has the church-property, or, rather, +that public property which is called church property, been dilapidated! +The parsons have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> swallowed the <i>tithes</i> and the rent of the glebes; and +have, successively, suffered the parsonage-houses to fall into decay. +But these parsonage-houses were, indeed, not intended for large +families. They were intended for a priest, a main part of whose business +it was to distribute the tithes amongst the poor and the strangers! The +parson, in this case, at Corsley, says, “too small for an incumbent with +a family.” Ah! there is the mischief. It was never intended to give men +tithes as a premium for breeding! Malthus does not seem to see any harm +in <i>this</i> sort of increase of population. It is the <i>working</i> +population, those who raise the food and the clothing, that he and +Scarlett want to put a stop to the breeding of!</p> + +<p>I saw, on my way through the down-countries, hundreds of acres of +ploughed land in <i>shelves</i>. What I mean is, the side of a steep hill +made into the shape of <i>a stairs</i>, only the rising parts more sloping +than those of a stairs, and deeper in proportion. The side of the hill, +in its original form, was too steep to be ploughed, or, even, to be +worked with a spade. The earth, as soon as moved, would have rolled down +the hill; and besides, the rains would have soon washed down all the +surface earth, and have left nothing for plants of any sort to grow in. +Therefore the sides of hills, where the land was sufficiently good, and +where it was wanted for the growing of corn, were thus made into a sort +of steps or shelves, and the horizontal parts (representing the parts of +the stairs that we put our feet upon) were ploughed and sowed, as they +generally are, indeed, to this day. Now no man, not even the hireling +Chalmers, will have the impudence to say that these shelves, amounting +to thousands and thousands of acres in Wiltshire alone, were not made by +the hand of man. It would be as impudent to contend that the churches +were formed by the flood, as to contend that these shelves were formed +by that cause. Yet thus the Scotch scribes must contend; or they must +give up all their assertions about the ancient beggary and want of +population in England; for, as in the case of the churches, what were +these shelves made <i>for</i>? And could they be made at all without a great +abundance of hands? These shelves are everywhere to be seen throughout +the down-countries of Sussex, Hampshire, Wiltshire, Dorsetshire, +Devonshire, and Cornwall; and besides this, large tracts of land, +amounting to millions of acres, perhaps, which are now downs, heaths, or +woodlands, still, if you examine closely, bear the marks of the plough. +The fact is, I dare say, that the country has never varied much in the +gross amount of its population; but formerly the people were pretty +evenly spread over the country, instead of being, as the greater part of +them now are, collected together in great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> masses, where, for the +greater part, the idlers live on the labour of the industrious.</p> + +<p>In quitting Devizes yesterday morning I saw, just on the outside of the +town, a monstrous building, which I took for <i>a barrack</i>; but upon +asking what it was, I found it was one of those other marks of the +<span class="smcap">Jubilee Reign</span>; namely, <i>a most magnificent gaol</i>! It seemed to me +sufficient to hold one-half of the able-bodied men in the county! And it +would do it too, and do it well! Such a system must come to an end, and +the end must be dreadful. As I came on the road, for the first three or +four miles, I saw great numbers of labourers either digging potatoes for +their Sunday’s dinner, or coming home with them, or going out to dig +them. The land-owners, or occupiers, let small pieces of land to the +labourers, and these they cultivate with the spade for their own use. +They pay in all cases a high rent, and in most cases an enormous one. +The practice prevails all the way from Warminster to Devizes, and from +Devizes to nearly this place (Highworth). The rent is, in some places, a +shilling a rod, which is, mind, 160<i>s.</i> or 8<i>l.</i> an acre! Still the poor +creatures like to have the land: they work in it at their spare hours; +and on Sunday mornings early: and the overseers, sharp as they may be, +cannot ascertain precisely how much they get out of their plat of +ground. But, good God! what a life to live! What a life to see people +live; to see this sight in our own country, and to have the base vanity +to <i>boast</i> of that country, and to talk of our “constitution” and our +“liberties,” and to affect to <i>pity</i> the Spaniards, whose working people +live like gentlemen, compared with our miserable creatures. Again I say, +give me the Inquisition and well-healed cheeks and ribs, rather than +“civil and religious liberty,” and skin and bone. But the fact is that, +where honest and laborious men can be compelled to starve quietly, +whether all at once or by inches, with old wheat ricks, and fat cattle +under their eye, it is a mockery to talk of their “liberty,” of any +sort; for the sum total of their state is this, they have “liberty” to +choose between death by starvation (quick or slow) and death by the +halter!</p> + +<p>Between Warminster and Westbury I saw thirty or more men <i>digging</i> a +great field of I dare say twelve acres. I thought, “surely that +‘humane,’ half-mad fellow, Owen, is not got at work here; that Owen who, +the <i>feelosofers</i> tell us, went to the Continent to find out how to +prevent the increase of the labourers’ children.” No: it was not Owen: +it was the overseer of the parish, who had set these men to dig up this +field previously to its being sown with wheat. In short, it was a +digging instead of a ploughing. The men, I found upon inquiry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> got +9<i>d.</i> a day for their work. Plain digging in the market gardens near +London is, I believe, 3<i>d.</i> or 4<i>d.</i> a rod. If these poor men, who were +chiefly weavers or spinners from Westbury, or had come home to their +parish from Bradford or Trowbridge; if they digged six rods each in a +day, and <i>fairly</i> did it, they must work well. This would be 1½<i>d.</i> a +rod, or 20<i>s.</i> an acre; and that is as cheap as ploughing, and four +times as good. But how much better to give the men higher wages, and let +them do more work? If married, how are their miserable families to live +on 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week? And, if single, they must and will have more, +either by poaching, or by taking without leave. At any rate, this is +better than the <i>road work</i>: I mean better for those who pay the rates; +for here is something which they get for the money that they give to the +poor; whereas, in the case of the road-work, the money given in relief +is generally wholly so much lost to the rate-payer. What a curious +spectacle this is: the manufactories <i>throwing the people back again +upon the land</i>! It is not above eighteen months ago that the Scotch +<span class="smcaplc">FEELOSOFERS</span>, and especially Dr. Black, were calling upon <i>the farm +labourers to become manufacturers</i>! I remonstrated with the Doctor at +the time; but he still insisted that such a transfer of hands was the +only remedy for the distress in the farming districts. However (and I +thank God for it), the <i>feelosofers</i> have enough to do at <i>home</i> now; +for the poor are crying for food in dear, cleanly, warm, fruitful +Scotland herself, in spite of a’ the Hamiltons and a’ the Wallaces and +a’ the Maxwells and a’ the Hope Johnstones and a’ the Dundases and a’ +the Edinbro’ Reviewers and a’ the Broughams and Birckbecks. In spite of +all these, the poor of Scotland are now helping themselves, or about to +do it, for want of the means of purchasing food.</p> + +<p>From Devizes I came to the vile rotten borough of Calne leaving the park +and house of Lord Lansdown to my left. This man’s name is Petty, and, +doubtless, his ancestors “came in with the Conqueror;” for <i>Petty</i> is, +unquestionably, a corruption of the French word <i>Petit</i>; and in this +case there appears to have been not the least degeneracy; a thing rather +rare in these days. There is a man whose name was Grimstone (that is, to +a certainty, <i>Grindstone</i>), who is now called Lord Verulam, and who, +according to his pedigree in the Peerage, is descended from a +“standard-bearer of the Conqueror!” Now, the devil a bit is there the +word Grindstone, or Grimstone, in the Norman language. Well, let them +have all that their French descent can give them, since they will insist +upon it, that they are not of this country. So help me God, I would, if +I could, <i>give them Normandy</i> to live in, and, if the people would let +them, to possess.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>This Petty family began, or, at least, made its first <i>grand push</i>, in +poor, unfortunate Ireland! The <i>history</i> of that push would amuse the +people of Wiltshire! Talking of Normans and high-blood, puts me in mind +of Beckford and his “Abbey”! The public knows that the <i>tower</i> of this +thing fell down some time ago. It was built of Scotch-fir and cased with +stone! In it there was a place which the owner had named, “The Gallery +of Edward III., the frieze of which (says the account) contains the +achievements of seventy-eight Knights of the Garter, from whom the owner +is lineally descended”! Was there ever vanity and impudence equal to +these! the negro-driver brag of his high blood! I dare say that the old +powder-man, Farquhar, had as good pretension; and I really should like +to know whether he took out Beckford’s name and put in his own, as the +lineal descendant of the seventy-eight Knights of the Garter.</p> + +<p>I could not come through that villanous hole, Calne, without cursing +Corruption at every step; and when I was coming by an ill-looking, +broken-winded place, called the town-hall, I suppose, I poured out a +double dose of execration upon it. “Out of the frying-pan into the +fire;” for in about ten miles more I came to another rotten-hole, called +Wotton-Basset! This also is a mean, vile place, though the country all +round it is very fine. On this side of Wotton-Basset I went out of my +way to see the church at Great Lyddiard, which in the parliamentary +return is called Lyddiard <i>Tregoose</i>. In my old map it is called +<i>Tregose</i>; and to a certainty the word was <i>Tregrosse</i>; that is to say, +<i>très grosse</i>, or <i>very big</i>. Here is a good old mansion-house and large +walled-in garden and a park belonging, they told me, to Lord +Bolingbroke. I went quite down to the house, close to which stands the +large and fine church. It appears <i>to have been</i> a noble place; the land +is some of the finest in the whole country; the trees show that the land +is excellent; but all, except the church, is in a state of irrepair and +apparent neglect, if not abandonment. The parish is large, the living is +a rich one, it is a Rectory; but though the incumbent has the great and +small tithes, he, in his return, tells the Parliament that the +parsonage-house is “worn out and incapable of repair!” And observe that +Parliament lets him continue to sack the produce of the tithes and the +glebe, while they know the parsonage-house to be crumbling-down, and +while he has the impudence to tell them that he does not reside in it, +though the law says that he shall! And while this is suffered to be, a +<i>poor</i> man may be transported for being in pursuit of a hare! What +coals, how hot, how red, is this flagitious system preparing for the +backs of its supporters!</p> + +<p>In coming from Wotton-Basset to Highworth, I left Swindon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> a few miles +away to my left, and came by the village of Blunsdon. All along here I +saw great quantities of hops in the hedges, and very fine hops, and I +saw at a village called Stratton, I think it was, the finest <i>campanula</i> +that I ever saw in my life. The main stalk was more than four feet high, +and there were four stalks, none of which were less than three feet +high. All through the country, poor, as well as rich, are very neat in +their gardens, and very careful to raise a great variety of flowers. At +Blunsdon I saw a clump, or, rather, a sort of orchard, of as fine +walnut-trees as I ever beheld, and loaded with walnuts. Indeed I have +seen great crops of walnuts all the way from London. From Blunsdon to +this place is but a short distance, and I got here about two or three +o’clock. This is a <i>cheese country</i>; some corn, but, generally speaking, +it is a country of dairies. The sheep here are of the large kind; a sort +of Leicester sheep, and the cattle chiefly for milking. The ground is a +stiff loam at top, and a yellowish stone under. The houses are almost +all built of stone. It is a tolerably rich, but by no means a gay and +pretty country. Highworth has a situation corresponding with its name. +On every side you go up-hill to it, and from it you see to a great +distance all round and into many counties.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Highworth, Wednesday, 6th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>The great object of my visit to the Northern border of Wiltshire will be +mentioned when I get to Malmsbury, whither I intend to go to-morrow, or +next day, and thence through Gloucestershire, in my way to +Herefordshire. But an additional inducement was to have a good long +political <i>gossip</i> with some excellent friends, who detest the +borough-ruffians as cordially as I do, and who, I hope, wish as +anxiously to see their fall effected, and no matter by what means. There +was, however, arising incidentally a third object, which, had I known of +its existence, would of itself have brought me from the south-west to +the north-east corner of this county. One of the parishes adjoining to +Highworth is that of Coleshill, which is in Berkshire, and which is the +property of Lord Radnor, or Lord Folkestone, and is the seat of the +latter. I was at Coleshill twenty-two or three years ago, and twice at +later periods. In 1824 Lord Folkestone bought some Locust trees of me; +and he has several times told me that they were growing very finely; but +I did not know that they had been planted at Coleshill; and, indeed, I +always thought that they had been planted somewhere in the south of +Wiltshire. I now found, however, that they were growing at Coleshill, +and yesterday I went to see them, and was, for many reasons, more +delighted with the sight than with any that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> have beheld for a long +while. These trees stand in clumps of 200 trees in each, and the trees +being four feet apart each way. These clumps make part of a plantation +of 30 or forty acres, perhaps 50 acres. The rest of the ground; that is +to say, the ground where the clumps of Locusts do not stand, was, at the +same time that the Locust clumps were, planted with chestnuts, elms, +ashes, oaks, beeches, and other trees. These trees were stouter and +taller than the Locust trees were, when the plantation was made. Yet, if +you were now to place yourself at a mile’s distance from the plantation, +you would not think that there was any plantation at all except the +clumps. The fact is that the other trees have, as they generally do, +made as yet but very little progress; are not, I should think, upon an +average, more than 4½ feet, or 5 feet, high; while the clumps of +Locusts are from 12 to 20 feet high; and I think that I may safely say +that the average height is sixteen feet. They are the most beautiful +clumps of trees that I ever saw in my life. They were indeed planted by +a clever and most trusty servant, who, to say all that can be said in +his praise, is, that he is worthy of such a master as he has.</p> + +<p>The trees are, indeed, in good land, and have been taken good care of; +but the other trees are in the same land; and, while they have been +taken the same care of since they were planted, they had not, I am sure, +worse treatment before planting than these Locust trees had. At the time +when I sold them to my Lord Folkestone, they were in a field at Worth, +near Crawley, in Sussex. The history of their transport is this. A +Wiltshire wagon came to Worth for the trees on the 14th of March 1824. +The wagon had been stopped on the way by the snow; and though the snow +was gone off before the trees were put upon the wagon, it was very cold, +and there were sharp frosts and harsh winds. I had the trees taken up, +and tied up in hundreds by withes, like so many fagots. They were then +put in and upon the wagon, we doing our best to keep the roots inwards +in the loading, so as to prevent them from being exposed but as little +as possible to the wind, sun, and frost. We put some fern on the top, +and, where we could, on the sides; and we tied on the load with ropes, +just as we should have done with a load of fagots. In this way they were +several days upon the road; and I do not know how long it was before +they got safe into the ground again. All this shows how hardy these +trees are, and it ought to admonish gentlemen to make pretty strict +enquiries, when they have gardeners, or bailiffs, or stewards, under +whose hands Locust trees die, or do not thrive.</p> + +<p>N.B. Dry as the late summer was, I never had my Locust trees so fine as +they are this year. I have some, they write me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> five feet high, from +seed sown just before I went to Preston the first time, that is to say, +on the 13th of May. I shall advertise my trees in the next Register. I +never had them so fine, though the great drought has made the number +comparatively small. Lord Folkestone bought of me 13,600 trees. They are +at this moment worth the money they cost him, and, in addition the cost +of planting, and in addition to that, they are worth the fee simple of +the ground (very good ground) on which they stand; and this I am able to +demonstrate to any man in his senses. What a difference in the value of +Wiltshire if all its Elms were Locusts! As fuel, a foot of Locust-wood +is worth four or five of any English wood. It will burn better green +than almost any other wood will dry. If men want woods, beautiful woods, +and <i>in a hurry</i>, let them go and see the clumps at Coleshill. Think of +a wood 16 feet high, and I may say 20 feet high, in twenty-nine months +from the day of planting; and the plants, on an average, not more than +two feet high when planted! Think of that: and any one may see it at +Coleshill. See what efforts gentlemen make <i>to get a wood</i>! How they +look at the poor slow-growing things for years; when they might, if they +would, have it at once: really almost at a wish; and, with due +attention, in almost any soil; and the most valuable of woods into the +bargain. Mr. Palmer, the bailiff, showed me, near the house at +Coleshill, a Locust tree, which was planted about 35 years ago, or +perhaps 40. He had measured it before. It is eight foot and an inch +round at a foot from the ground. It goes off afterwards into two +principal limbs; which two soon become six limbs, and each of these +limbs is three feet round. So that here are six everlasting gate-posts +to begin with. This tree is worth 20 pounds at the least farthing.</p> + +<p>I saw also at Coleshill the most complete farmyard that I ever saw, and +that I believe there is in all England, many and complete as English +farmyards are. This was the contrivance of Mr. Palmer, Lord Folkestone’s +bailiff and steward. The master gives all the credit of plantation and +farm to the servant; but the servant ascribes a good deal of it to the +master. Between them, at any rate, here are some most admirable objects +in rural affairs. And here, too, there is no misery amongst those who do +the work; those without whom there could have been no Locust-plantations +and no farmyard. Here all are comfortable; gaunt hunger here stares no +man in the face. That same disposition which sent Lord Folkestone to +visit John Knight in the dungeons at Reading keeps pinching hunger away +from Coleshill. It is a very pretty spot all taken together. It is +chiefly grazing land; and though the making of cheese and bacon is, I +dare say, the most profitable part of the farming here,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> Lord Folkestone +fats oxen, and has a stall for it, which ought to be shown to +foreigners, instead of the spinning jennies. A fat ox is a finer thing +than a cheese, however good. There is a dairy here too, and beautifully +kept. When this stall is full of oxen, and they all fat, how it would +make a French farmer stare! It would make even a Yankee think that “Old +England” was a respectable “mother” after all. If I had to show this +village off to a Yankee, I would blindfold him all the way to, and after +I got him out of, the village, lest he should see the scare-crows of +paupers on the road.</p> + +<p>For a week or ten days before I came to Highworth I had, owing to the +uncertainty as to where I should be, had no newspapers sent me from +London; so that, really, I began to feel that I was in the “dark ages.” +Arrived here, however, the <i>light</i> came bursting in upon me, flash after +flash, from the Wen, from Dublin, and from Modern Athens. I had, too, +for several days, had nobody to enjoy the light with. I had no sharers +in the “<i>anteelactual</i>” treat, and this sort of enjoyment, unlike that +of some other sorts, is augmented by being divided. Oh! how happy we +were, and how proud we were, to find (from the “instructor”) that we had +a king, that we were the subjects of a sovereign, who had graciously +sent twenty-five pounds to Sir Richard Birnie’s poor-box, there to swell +the amount of the munificence of fined delinquents! Aye, and this, too, +while (as the “instructor” told us) this same sovereign had just +bestowed, unasked for (oh! the dear good man!), an annuity of 500<i>l.</i> a +year on Mrs. Fox, who, observe, and whose daughters, had already a +banging pension, paid out of the taxes, raised in part, and in the +greatest part, upon a people who are half-starved and half-naked. And +our admiration at the poor-box affair was not at all lessened by the +reflection that more money than sufficient to pay all the poor-rates of +Wiltshire and Berkshire will, this very year, have been expended on new +palaces, on pullings down and alterations of palaces before existing, +and on ornaments and decorations in and about Hyde Park, where a bridge +is building, which, I am told, must cost a hundred thousand pounds, +though all the water that has to pass under it would go through a +sugar-hogshead; and does, a little while before it comes to this bridge, +go through an arch which I believe to be smaller than a sugar-hogshead! +besides, there was a bridge here before, and a very good one too.</p> + +<p>Now will Jerry Curteis, who complains so bitterly about the poor-rates, +and who talks of the poor working people as if their poverty were the +worst of crimes; will Jerry say anything about this bridge, or about the +enormous expenses at Hyde Park Corner and in St. James’s Park? Jerry +knows, or he ought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> to know, that this bridge alone will cost more money +than half the poor-rates of the county of Sussex. Jerry knows, or he +ought to know, that this bridge must be paid for out of the taxes. He +must know, or else he must be what I dare not suppose him, that it is +the taxes that make the paupers; and yet I am afraid that Jerry will not +open his lips on the subject of this bridge. What they are going at at +Hyde Park Corner nobody that I talk with seems to know. The “great +Captain of the age,” as that nasty palaverer, Brougham, called him, +lives close to this spot, where also the “English ladies’” naked +Achilles stands, having on the base of it the word <span class="smcap">Wellington</span> in great +staring letters, while all the other letters are very, very small; so +that base tax-eaters and fund-gamblers from the country, when they go to +crouch before this image, think it is the image of the Great Captain +himself! The reader will recollect that after the battle of Waterloo, +when we beat Napoleon with nearly a million of foreign bayonets in our +pay, pay that came out of that <i>borrowed money</i>, for which we have <i>now</i> +to wince and howl; the reader will recollect that at that “glorious” +time, when the insolent wretches of tax-eaters were ready to trample us +under foot; that, at that time, when the Yankees were defeated on the +Serpentine River, and before they had thrashed Blue and Buff so +unmercifully on the ocean and on the lakes; that, at that time, when the +creatures called “English ladies” were flocking from all parts of the +country to present rings, to “Old Blucher”; that, at that time of +exultation with the corrupt, and of mourning with the virtuous, the +Collective, in the hey-day, in the delirium, of its joy, resolved to +expend three millions of money on triumphal arches, or columns, or +monuments of some sort or other, to commemorate the glories of the war! +Soon after this, however, low prices came, and they drove triumphal +arches out of the heads of the Ministers, until “prosperity, +unparalleled prosperity” came! This set them to work upon palaces and +streets; and I am told that the triumphal-arch project is now going on +at Hyde Park Corner! Good God! If this should be true, how apt will +everything be! Just about the time that the arch, or arches, will be +completed; just about the time that the scaffolding will be knocked +away, down will come the whole of the horrid borough-mongering system, +for the upholding of which the vile tax-eating crew called for the war! +All these palaces and other expensive projects were hatched two years +ago; they were hatched in the days of “prosperity,” the plans and +contracts were made, I dare say, two or three years ago! However, they +will be completed much about in the nick of time! They will help to +exhibit the system in its true light.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>The “best possible public instructor” tells us that Canning is going to +Paris. For what, I wonder? His brother, Huskisson, was there last year; +and he did nothing. It is supposed that the “revered and ruptured Ogden” +orator is going to try the force of his oratory in order to induce +France and her allies to let Portugal alone. He would do better to arm +some ships of war! Oh! no: never will that be done again; or, at least, +there never will again be war for three months as long as this borough +and paper system shall last! This system has run itself out. It has +lasted a good while, and has done tremendous mischief to the people of +England; but it is over; it is done for; it will live for a while, but +it will go about drooping its wings and half shutting its eyes, like a +cock that has got the pip; it will never crow again; and for that I most +humbly and fervently thank God! It has crowed over us long enough: it +has pecked us and spurred us and slapped us about quite long enough. The +nasty, insolent creatures that it has sheltered under its wings have +triumphed long enough: they are now going to the workhouse; and thither +let them go.</p> + +<p>I <i>know</i> nothing of the politics of the Bourbons; but though I can +easily conceive that they would not like to see an end of the paper +system and a consequent Reform in England; though I can see very good +reasons for believing this, I do not believe that Canning will induce +them to sacrifice their own obvious and immediate interests for the sake +of preserving our funding system. He will not get them out of Cadiz, and +he will not induce them to desist from interfering in the affairs of +Portugal, if they find it their interest to interfere. They know that we +<i>cannot go to war</i>. They know this as well as we do; and every sane +person in England seems to know it well. No war for us <i>without Reform</i>! +We are come to this at last. No war with <i>this Debt</i>; and this Debt +defies every power but that of <i>Reform</i>. Foreign nations were, as to our +real state, a good deal enlightened by “late panic.” They had hardly any +notion of our state before that. That opened their eyes, and led them to +conclusions that they never before dreamed of. It made them see that +that which they had always taken for a mountain of solid gold was only a +great heap of rubbishy, rotten paper! And they now, of course, estimate +us accordingly. But it signifies not what <i>they</i> think, or what <i>they</i> +do; unless they will subscribe and pay off this <i>Debt</i> for the people at +Whitehall. The foreign governments (not excepting the American) all hate +the English Reformers; those of Europe, because our example would be so +dangerous to despots; and that of America, because we should not suffer +it to build fleets and to add to its territories at pleasure. So that we +have not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> only our own borough-mongers and tax-eaters against us; but +also all foreign governments. Not a straw, however, do we care for them +all, so long as we have for us the ever-living, ever-watchful, +ever-efficient, and all-subduing <i>Debt</i>! Let our foes subscribe, I say, +and pay off that <i>Debt</i>; for until they do that we snap our fingers at +them.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Highworth,<br />Friday, 8th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>“The best public instructor” of yesterday (arrived to-day) informs us +that “A number of official gentlemen connected with finance have waited +upon Lord Liverpool”! Connected with finance! And “a number” of them +too! Bless their numerous and united noddles! Good God! what a state of +things it is altogether! There never was the like of it seen in this +world before. Certainly never; and the end must be what the far greater +part of the people anticipate. It was this very Lord Liverpool that +ascribed the <i>sufferings</i> of the country to a <i>surplus of food</i>; and +that, too, at the very time when he was advising the King to put forth a +begging proclamation to raise money to prevent, or, rather, put a stop +to, starvation in Ireland; and when, at the same time, public money was +granted for the causing of English people to emigrate to Africa! Ah! +Good God! who is to record or recount the endless blessings of a +Jubilee-Government! The “instructor” gives us a sad account of the state +of the working classes in Scotland. I am not glad that these poor people +suffer: I am very sorry for it; and if I could relieve them out of my +own means, without doing good to and removing danger from the insolent +borough-mongers and tax-eaters of Scotland, I would share my last +shilling with the poor fellows. But I must be glad that something has +happened to silence the impudent Scotch quacks, who have been, for six +years past, crying up the doctrine of Malthus, and railing against the +English poor-laws. Let us now see what <i>they</i> will do with their poor. +Let us see whether they will have the impudence to call upon <i>us</i> to +maintain their poor! Well, amidst all this suffering, there is one good +thing; the Scotch political economy is blown to the devil, and the +Edinburgh Review and Adam Smith along with it.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Malmsbury (Wilts),<br />Monday, 11th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>I was detained at Highworth partly by the rain and partly by company +that I liked very much. I left it at six o’clock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> yesterday morning, and +got to this town about three or four o’clock in the afternoon, after a +ride, including my deviations, of 34 miles; and as pleasant a ride as +man ever had. I got to a farmhouse in the neighbourhood of Cricklade, to +breakfast, at which house I was very near to the source of the river +Isis, which is, they say, the first branch of the Thames. They call it +the “Old Thames,” and I rode through it here, it not being above four or +five yards wide, and not deeper than the knees of my horse.</p> + +<p>The land here and all round Cricklade is very fine. Here are some of the +very finest pastures in all England, and some of the finest dairies of +cows, from 40 to 60 in a dairy, grazing in them. Was not this <i>always</i> +so? Was it created by the union with Scotland; or was it begotten by +Pitt and his crew? Aye, it was always so; and there were formerly two +churches here, where there is now only one, and five, six, or ten times +as many people. I saw in one single farmyard here more food than enough +for four times the inhabitants of the parish; and this yard did not +contain a tenth, perhaps, of the produce of the parish; but while the +poor creatures that raise the wheat and the barley and cheese and the +mutton and the beef are living upon potatoes, an accursed <i>Canal</i> comes +kindly through the parish to convey away the wheat and all the good food +to the tax-eaters and their attendants in the Wen! What, then, is this +“an improvement?” is a nation <i>richer</i> for the carrying away of the food +from those who raise it, and giving it to bayonet men and others, who +are assembled in great masses? I could broom-stick the fellow who would +look me in the face and call this “an improvement.” What! was it not +better for the consumers of the food to live near to the places where it +was grown? We have very nearly come to the system of Hindostan, where +the farmer is allowed by the <i>Aumil</i>, or tax-contractor, only so much of +the produce of his farm to eat in the year! The thing is not done in so +undisguised a manner here: here are assessor, collector, exciseman, +supervisor, informer, constable, justice, sheriff, jailor, judge, jury, +jack-ketch, barrack-man. Here is a great deal of ceremony about it; all +is done according to law; it is the <i>free-est</i> country in the world: but +somehow or other the produce is, at last, <i>carried away</i>; and it is +eaten, for the main part, by those who do not work.</p> + +<p>I observed some pages back that when I got to Malmsbury I should have to +explain my main object in coming to the North of Wiltshire. In the year +1818 the Parliament, by <i>an Act</i>, ordered the bishops to cause the +beneficed clergy to give in an account of their livings, which account +was to contain the following particulars relating to each parish:</p> + +<p class="blockquot"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> +1. Whether a Rectory, Vicarage, or what.<br /> +2. In what rural Deanery.<br /> +3. Population.<br /> +4. Number of Churches and Chapels.<br /> +5. <i>Number of persons they</i> (the churches and chapels) <i>can contain</i>.</p> + +<p>In looking into this account as it was finally made up and printed by +the parliamentary officers, I saw that it was impossible for it to be +true. I have always asserted, and, indeed, I have clearly proved, that +one of the two last population returns is false, barefacedly false; and +I was sure that the account of which I am now speaking was equally +false. The falsehood consisted, I saw principally, in the account of the +capacity of the church to contain people; that is, under the head No. 5, +as above stated. I saw that in almost every instance this account must +of necessity be false, though coming from under the pen of a beneficed +clergyman. I saw that there was a constant desire to make it appear that +the church was now become too small! And thus to help along the opinion +of a great recent increase of population, an opinion so sedulously +inculcated by all the tax-eaters of every sort, and by the most brutal +and best public instructor. In some cases the falsehood of this account +was impudent almost beyond conception; and yet it required going to the +spot to get unquestionable proof of the falsehood. In many of the +parishes, in hundreds of them, the population is next to nothing, far +fewer persons than the church porch would contain. Even in these cases +the parsons have seldom said that the church would contain more than the +population! In such cases they have generally said that the church can +contain “the population!” So it can; but it can contain ten times the +number! And thus it was that, in words of truth, a lie in meaning was +told to the Parliament, and not one word of notice was ever taken of it. +Little Langford, or Landford, for instance, between Salisbury and +Warminster, is returned as having a population under twenty, and a +church that “can contain the population.” This church, which I went and +looked at, can contain, very conveniently, two hundred people! But there +was one instance in which the parson had been singularly impudent; for +he had stated the population at eight persons, and had stated that the +church could contain eight persons! This was the account of the parish +of Sharncut, in this county of Wilts. It lies on the very northermost +edge of the county, and its boundary, on one side, divides Wiltshire +from Gloucestershire. To this Sharncut, therefore, I was resolved to go, +and to try the fact with my own eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> When, therefore, I got through +Cricklade, I was compelled to quit the Malmsbury road and go away to my +right. I had to go through a village called Ashton Keines, with which +place I was very much stricken. It is now a straggling village; but to a +certainty it has been a large market town. There is a market-cross still +standing in an open place in it; and there are such numerous lanes, +crossing each other, and cutting the land up into such little bits, that +it must, at one time, have been a large town. It is a very curious +place, and I should have stopped in it for some time, but I was now +within a few miles of the famous Sharncut, the church of which, +according to the parson’s account, <i>could</i> contain eight persons!</p> + +<p>At the end of about three miles more of road, rather difficult to find, +but very pleasant, I got to Sharncut, which I found to consist of a +church, two farmhouses, and a parsonage-house, one part of the buildings +of which had become a labourer’s house. The church has no tower, but a +sort of crowning-piece (very ancient) on the transept. The church is +sixty feet long, and, on an average, twenty-eight feet wide; so that the +area of it contains one thousand six hundred and eighty square feet; or, +one hundred and eighty-six square yards! I found in the church eleven +pews that would contain, that were made to contain, eighty-two people; +and these do not occupy a third part of the area of the church; and thus +more than two hundred persons at the least might be accommodated with +perfect convenience in this church, which the parson says “<i>can</i> contain +<i>eight</i>”! Nay, the church porch, on its two benches, would hold twenty +people, taking little and big promiscuously. I have been thus particular +in this instance, because I would leave no doubt as to the barefacedness +of the lie. A strict inquiry would show that the far greater part of the +account is a most impudent lie, or, rather, string of lies. For as to +the subterfuge that this account was true, because the church “<i>can</i> +contain <i>eight</i>,” it is an addition to the crime of lying. What the +Parliament meant was, what “is the greatest number of persons that the +church can contain at worship;” and therefore to put the figure of 8 +against the church of Sharncut was to tell the Parliament a wilful lie. +This parish is a rectory; it has great and small tithes; it has a glebe, +and a good solid house, though the parson says it is unfit for him to +live in! In short, he is not here; a curate that serves, perhaps, three +or four other churches, comes here at five o’clock in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>The <i>motive</i> for making out the returns in this way is clear enough. The +parsons see that they are getting what they get in a declining and a +mouldering country. The size of the church tells them, everything tells +them, that the country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> is a mean and miserable thing, compared with +what it was in former times. They feel the facts; but they wish to +disguise them, because they know that they have been one great cause of +the country being in its present impoverished and dilapidated state. +They know that the people look at them with an accusing eye: and they +wish to put as fair a face as they can upon the state of things. If you +talk to them, they will never acknowledge that there is any misery in +the country; because they well know how large a share they have had in +the cause of it. They were always haughty and insolent; but the +anti-jacobin times made them ten thousand times more so than ever. The +cry of Atheism, as of the French, gave these fellows of ours a fine time +of it: they became identified with loyalty, and what was more, with +property; and at one time, to say, or hint, a word against a parson, do +what he would, was to be an enemy of God and of all property! Those were +the glorious times for them. They urged on the war: they were the +loudest of all the trumpeters. They saw their tithes in danger. If they +did not get the Bourbons restored, there was no chance of +re-establishing tithes in France; and then the example might be fatal. +But they forgot that, to restore the Bourbons, a debt must be +contracted; and that, when the nation could not pay the interest of that +debt, it would, as it now does, begin to look hard at the tithes! In +short, they over-reached themselves; and those of them who have common +sense now see it: each hopes that the thing will last out his time; but +they have, unless they be half-idiots, a constant dread upon their +minds: this makes them a great deal less brazen than they used to be; +and I dare say that, if the parliamentary return had to be made out +again, the parson of Sharncut would not state that the church “<i>can</i> +contain <i>eight persons</i>.”</p> + +<p>From Sharncut I came through a very long and straggling village, called +Somerford, another called Ocksey, and another called Crudwell. Between +Somerford and Ocksey I saw, on the side of the road, more <i>goldfinches</i> +than I had ever seen together; I think fifty times as many as I had ever +seen at one time in my life. The favourite food of the goldfinch is the +seed of the <i>thistle</i>. This seed is just now dead ripe. The thistles are +all cut and carried away from the fields by the harvest; but they grow +alongside the roads; and, in this place, in great quantities. So that +the goldfinches were got here in flocks, and as they continued to fly +along before me for nearly half a mile, and still sticking to the road +and the banks, I do believe I had, at last, a flock of ten thousand +flying before me. <i>Birds</i> of every kind, including partridges and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> +pheasants and all sorts of poultry, are most abundant this year. The +fine, long summer has been singularly favourable to them; and you see +the effect of it in the great broods of chickens and ducks and geese and +turkeys in and about every farm-yard.</p> + +<p>The churches of the last-mentioned villages are all large, particularly +the latter, which is capable of containing very conveniently 3 or 4,000 +people. It is a very large church; it has a triple roof, and is nearly +100 feet long; and master parson says, in his return, that it “<i>can</i> +contain <i>two hundred</i> people”! At Ocksey the people were in church as I +came by. I heard the singers singing; and, as the church-yard was close +by the road-side, I got off my horse and went in, giving my horse to a +boy to hold. The fellow says that his church “<i>can</i> contain <i>two +hundred</i> people.” I counted pews for about 450; the singing gallery +would hold 40 or 50; two-thirds of the area of the church have no pews +in them. On benches these two-thirds would hold 2,000 persons, taking +one with another! But this is nothing rare; the same sort of statement +has been made, the same kind of falsehoods, relative to the whole of the +parishes throughout the country, with here and there an exception. +Everywhere you see the indubitable marks of <i>decay</i> in mansions, in +parsonage-houses and in people. Nothing can so strongly depict the great +decay of the villages as the state of the parsonage-houses, which are so +many parcels of public property, and to prevent the dilapidation of +which there are laws so strict. Since I left Devizes, I have passed +close by, or very near to, thirty-two parish churches; and in fifteen +out of these thirty-two parishes the parsonage-houses are stated, in the +parliamentary return, either as being unfit for a parson to live in, or, +as being wholly tumbled down and gone! What, then, are there Scotch +vagabonds; are there Chalmerses and Colquhounds, to swear, “mon,” that +Pitt and Jubilee George <i>begat</i> all us Englishmen; and that there were +only a few stragglers of us in the world before! And that our dark and +ignorant fathers, who built Winchester and Salisbury Cathedrals, had +neither hands nor money!</p> + +<p>When I got in here yesterday, I went at first to an inn; but I very soon +changed my quarters for the house of a friend, who and whose family, +though I had never seen them before, and had never heard of them until I +was at Highworth, gave me a hearty reception, and precisely in <i>the +style</i> that I like. This town, though it has nothing particularly +engaging in itself, stands upon one of the prettiest spots that can be +imagined. Besides the river Avon, which I went down in the south-east +part of the country, here is another river Avon, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> runs down to +Bath, and two branches, or sources, of which meet here. There is a +pretty ridge of ground, the base of which is a mile, or a mile and a +half wide. On each side of this ridge a branch of the river runs down +through a flat of very fine meadows. The town and the beautiful remains +of the famous old Abbey stand on the rounded spot which terminates this +ridge; and just below, nearly close to the town, the two branches of the +river meet; and then they begin to be called <i>the Avon</i>. The land round +about is excellent, and of a great variety of forms. The trees are lofty +and fine: so that what with the water, the meadows, the fine cattle and +sheep, and, as I hear, the absence of <i>hard</i>-pinching poverty, this is a +very pleasant place. There remains more of the Abbey than, I believe, of +any of our monastic buildings, except that of Westminster, and those +that have become Cathedrals. The church-service is performed in the part +of the Abbey that is left standing. The parish church has fallen down +and is gone; but the tower remains, which is made use of for the bells; +but the Abbey is used as the church, though the church-tower is at a +considerable distance from it. It was once a most magnificent building; +and there is now a <i>door-way</i>, which is the most beautiful thing I ever +saw, and which was nevertheless built in Saxon times, in “the <i>dark</i> +ages,” and was built by men who were not begotten by Pitt nor by +Jubilee-George.—What <i>fools</i>, as well as ungrateful creatures, we have +been and are! There is a broken arch, standing off from the sound part +of the building, at which one cannot look up without feeling shame at +the thought of ever having abused the men who made it. No one need +<i>tell</i> any man of sense; he <i>feels</i> our inferiority to our fathers upon +merely beholding the remains of their efforts to ornament their country +and elevate the minds of the people. We talk of our skill and learning, +indeed! How do we know how skilful, how learned <i>they</i> were? If in all +that they have left us we see that they surpassed us, why are we to +conclude that they did not surpass us in all other things worthy of +admiration?</p> + +<p>This famous Abbey was founded, in about the year 600, by Maidulf, a +Scotch Monk, who upon the suppression of a Nunnery here at that time +selected the spot for this great establishment. For the great +magnificence, however, to which it was soon after brought it was +indebted to Aldhelm, a Monk educated within its first walls by the +founder himself; and to St. Aldhelm, who by his great virtues became +very famous, the Church was dedicated in the time of King Edgar. This +Monastery continued flourishing during those <i>dark</i> ages, until it was +sacked by the great enlightener, at which time it was found to be +endowed to the amount of 16,077<i>l.</i> 11<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> of the money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> of the +present day! Amongst other, many other, great men produced by this Abbey +of Malmsbury was that famous scholar and historian, William de +Malmsbury.</p> + +<p>There is a <i>market-cross</i> in this town, the sight of which is worth a +journey of hundreds of miles. Time, with his scythe, and “enlightened +Protestant piety,” with its pick-axes and crow-bars; these united have +done much to efface the beauties of this monument of ancient skill and +taste and proof of ancient wealth; but in spite of all their destructive +efforts, this Cross still remains a most beautiful thing, though +possibly, and even probably, nearly, or quite, a thousand years old. +There is a <i>market-cross</i> lately erected at Devizes, and intended to +imitate the ancient ones. Compare that with this, and then you have +pretty fairly a view of the difference between us and our forefathers of +the “dark ages.”</p> + +<p>To-morrow I start for Bollitree, near Ross, Herefordshire, my road being +across the county, and through the city of Gloucester.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RIDE, FROM MALMSBURY, IN WILTSHIRE, THROUGH GLOUCESTERSHIRE, HEREFORDSHIRE, AND WORCESTERSHIRE.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Stroud (Gloucestershire),<br />Tuesday Forenoon, 12th Sept. 1826.</i></p> + +<p>I set off from Malmsbury this morning at 6 o’clock, in as sweet and +bright a morning as ever came out of the heavens, and leaving behind me +as pleasant a house and as kind hosts as I ever met with in the whole +course of my life, either in England or America; and that is saying a +great deal indeed. This circumstance was the more pleasant, as I had +never before either seen or heard of these kind, unaffected, sensible, +<i>sans façons</i>, and most agreeable friends. From Malmsbury I first came, +at the end of five miles, to Tutbury, which is in Gloucestershire, there +being here a sort of dell, or ravine, which, in this place, is the +boundary line of the two counties, and over which you go on a bridge, +one-half of which belongs to each county. And now, before I take my +leave of Wiltshire, I must observe that, in the whole course of my life +(days of <i>courtship</i> excepted, of course), I never passed seventeen +pleasanter days than those which I have just spent in Wiltshire. It is, +especially in the southern half, just the sort of country that I like; +the weather has been pleasant; I have been in good houses and amongst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> +good and beautiful gardens; and in <i>every</i> case I have not only been +most kindly entertained, but my entertainers have been of just the stamp +that I like.</p> + +<p>I saw again this morning large flocks of <i>goldfinches</i> feeding on the +thistle-seed on the roadside. The French call this bird by a name +derived from the thistle, so notorious has it always been that they live +upon this seed. <i>Thistle</i> is, in French, <i>Chardon</i>; and the French call +this beautiful little bird <i>Chardonaret</i>. I never could have supposed +that such flocks of these birds would ever be seen in England. But it is +a great year for all the feathered race, whether wild or tame: naturally +so, indeed; for every one knows that it is the <i>wet</i>, and not the +<i>cold</i>, that is injurious to the breeding of birds of all sorts, whether +land-birds or water-birds. They say that there are this year double the +usual quantity of ducks and geese: and, really, they do seem to swarm in +the farmyards, wherever I go. It is a great mistake to suppose that +ducks and geese <i>need</i> water, except to drink. There is, perhaps, no +spot in the world, in proportion to its size and population, where so +many of these birds are reared and fatted as in Long Island; and it is +not in one case out of ten that they have any ponds to go to, or, that +they ever see any water other than water that is drawn up out of a well.</p> + +<p>A little way before I got to Tutbury I saw a woman digging some potatoes +in a strip of ground, making part of a field, nearly an oblong square, +and which field appeared to be laid out in strips. She told me that the +field was part of a farm (to the homestead of which she pointed); that +it was by the farmer <i>let out</i> in strips to labouring people; that each +strip contained a rood (or quarter of a statute acre); that each married +labourer rented one strip; and that the annual rent was <i>a pound</i> for +the strip. Now the taxes being all paid by the farmer; the fences being +kept in repair by him; and, as appeared to me, the land being +exceedingly good: all these things considered, the rent does not appear +to be too high.—This fashion is certainly a <i>growing</i> one; it is a +little step towards a coming back to the ancient small life and lease +holds and common-fields! This field of strips was, in fact, a sort of +common-field; and the “agriculturists,” as the conceited asses of +landlords call themselves at their clubs and meetings, might, and they +would if their skulls could admit any thoughts except such as relate to +high prices and low wages; they might, and they would, begin to suspect +that the “dark age” people were not so very foolish when they had so +many common-fields, and when almost every man that had a family had also +a bit of land, either large or small. It is a very curious thing that +the enclosing of commons, that the shutting out of the labourers <i>from +all share</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> in the land; that the prohibiting of them to look at a wild +animal, almost at a lark or a frog; it is curious that this hard-hearted +system should have gone on, until, at last, it has produced effects so +injurious and so dangerous to the grinders themselves that they have, of +their own accord, and for their own safety, begun to make a step towards +the ancient system, and have, in the manner I have observed, made the +labourers sharers in some degree in the uses at any rate of the soil. +The far greater part of these strips of land have potatoes growing in +them; but in some cases they have borne wheat, and in others barley, +this year; and these have now turnips; very young, most of them, but in +some places very fine, and in every instance nicely hoed out. The land +that will bear 400 bushels of potatoes to the acre will bear 40 bushels +of wheat; and the ten bushels of wheat to the quarter of an acre would +be a crop far more valuable than a hundred bushels of potatoes, as I +have proved many times in the Register.</p> + +<p>Just before I got into Tutbury I was met by a good many people, in twos, +threes, or fives, some running and some walking fast, one of the first +of whom asked me if I had met an “old man” some distance back. I asked +what <i>sort</i> of a man: “A <i>poor</i> man.” “I don’t recollect, indeed; but +what are you all pursuing him for?” “He has been <i>stealing</i>.” “What has +he been stealing?” “Cabbages.” “Where?” “Out of Mr. Glover, the +hatter’s, garden.” “What! do you call that <i>stealing</i>; and would you +punish a man, a poor man, and, therefore, in all likelihood, a hungry +man too, and, moreover an old man; do you set up a hue-and-cry after, +and would you punish, such a man for taking a few cabbages, when that +Holy Bible, which, I dare say, you profess to believe in, and perhaps +assist to circulate, teaches you that the hungry man may, without +committing any offence at all, go into his neighbour’s vineyard and eat +his fill of grapes, one bunch of which is worth a sack-full of +cabbages?” “Yes; but he is a very bad character.” “Why, my friend, very +poor and almost starved people are apt to be ‘bad characters;’ but the +Bible, in both Testaments, commands us to be merciful to the poor, to +feed the hungry, to have compassion on the aged; and it makes no +exception as to the ‘character’ of the parties.” Another group or two of +the pursuers had come up by this time; and I, bearing in mind the fate +of Don Quixote when he interfered in somewhat similar cases, gave my +horse the hint, and soon got away; but though doubtless I made no +converts, I, upon looking back, perceived that I had slackened the +pursuit! The pursuers went more slowly; I could see that they got to +talking; it was now the step of deliberation rather than that of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> +decision; and though I did not like to call upon Mr. Glover, I hope he +was merciful. It is impossible for me to witness scenes like this; to +hear a man called <i>a thief</i> for such a cause; to see him thus eagerly +and vindictively pursued for having taken some cabbages in a garden: it +is impossible for me to behold such a scene, without calling to mind the +practice in the United States of America, where, if a man were even to +talk of prosecuting another (especially if that other were poor, or old) +for taking from the land, or from the trees, any part of a growing crop, +for his own personal and immediate use; if any man were even to talk of +prosecuting another for such an act, such talker would be held in +universal abhorrence: people would hate him; and, in short, if rich as +Ricardo or Baring, he might live by himself; for no man would look upon +him as a neighbour.</p> + +<p>Tutbury is a very pretty town, and has a beautiful ancient church. The +country is high along here for a mile or two towards Avening, which +begins a long and deep and narrow valley, that comes all the way down to +Stroud. When I got to the end of the high country, and the lower country +opened to my view, I was at about three miles from Tutbury, on the road +to Avening, leaving the Minching-hampton road to my right. Here I was +upon the edge of the high land, looking right down upon the village of +Avening, and seeing, just close to it, a large and fine mansion-house, a +beautiful park, and, making part of the park, one of the finest, most +magnificent woods (of 200 acres, I dare say), lying facing me, going +from a valley up a gently-rising hill. While I was sitting on my horse +admiring this spot, a man came along with some tools in his hand, as if +going somewhere to work as plumber. “Whose beautiful place is that?” +said I. “One ’Squire Ricardo, I think they call him, but ...”—You might +have “knocked me down with a feather,” as the old women say,... “but” +(continued the plumber) “the Old Gentleman’s dead, and” ... “God —— the +old gentleman and the young gentleman too!” said I; and, giving my horse +a blow, instead of a word, on I went down the hill. Before I got to the +bottom, my reflections on the present state of the “market” and on the +probable results of “watching the turn of it,” had made me better +humoured; and as one of the first objects that struck my eye in the +village was the sign of the <span class="smcap">Cross</span>, and of the Red, or Bloody, Cross too, +I asked the landlord some questions, which began a series of joking and +bantering that I had with the people, from one end of the village to the +other. I set them all a laughing; and, though they could not know my +name, they will remember me for a long while.—This estate of Gatcomb +belonged, I am told, to a Mr. Shepperd, and to his fathers before him. I +asked where this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> Shepperd was <span class="smcaplc">NOW</span>? A tradesman-looking man told me that +he did not know where he was; but that he had heard that he was living +somewhere near to Bath! Thus they go! Thus they are squeezed out of +existence. The little ones are gone; and the big ones have nothing left +for it but to resort to the bands of holy matrimony with the turn of the +market watchers and their breed. This the big ones are now doing apace; +and there is this comfort at any rate; namely, that the connection +cannot make them baser than they are, a boroughmonger being, of all +God’s creatures, the very basest.</p> + +<p>From Avening I came on through Nailsworth, Woodchester, and Rodborough, +to this place. These villages lie on the sides of a narrow and deep +valley, with a narrow stream of water running down the middle of it, and +this stream turns the wheels of a great many mills and sets of machinery +for the making of <i>woollen-cloth</i>. The factories begin at Avening, and +are scattered all the way down the valley. There are steam-engines as +well as water powers. The work and the trade is so flat that in, I +should think, much more than a hundred acres of ground which I have seen +to-day covered with rails or racks for the drying of cloth, I do not +think that I have seen one single acre where the racks had cloth upon +them. The workmen do not get half wages; great numbers are thrown on the +parish; but overseers and magistrates in this part of England do not +presume that they are to leave anybody to starve to death; there is law +here; this is in England, and not in “the North,” where those who ought +to see that the poor do not suffer talk of their dying with hunger as +Irish ’Squires do; aye, and applaud them for their patient resignation!</p> + +<p>The Gloucestershire people have no notion of dying with hunger; and it +is with great pleasure that I remark that I have seen no woe-worn +creature this day. The sub-soil here is a yellowish ugly stone. The +houses are all built with this; and, it being ugly, the stone is made +<i>white</i> by a wash of some sort or other. The land on both sides of the +valley, and all down the bottom of it, has plenty of trees on it; it is +chiefly pasture land, so that the green and the white colours, and the +form and great variety of the ground, and the water and altogether make +this a very pretty ride. Here are a series of spots, every one of which +a lover of landscapes would like to have painted. Even the buildings of +the factories are not ugly. The people seem to have been constantly well +off. A pig in almost every cottage sty; and that is the infallible mark +of a happy people. At present, indeed, this valley suffers; and though +cloth will always be wanted, there will yet be much suffering even here, +while at Uly and other places they say that the suffering is great +indeed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Huntley,<br />Between Gloucester and Ross.</i></p> + +<p>From Stroud I came up to Pitchcomb, leaving Painswick on my right. From +the lofty hill at Pitchcomb I looked down into that great flat and +almost circular vale, of which the city of Gloucester is in the centre. +To the left I saw the Severn, become a sort of arm of the sea; and +before me I saw the hills that divide this county from Herefordshire and +Worcestershire. The hill is a mile down. When down, you are amongst +dairy-farms and orchards all the way to Gloucester, and this year the +orchards, particularly those of pears, are greatly productive. I +intended to sleep at Gloucester, as I had, when there, already come +twenty-five miles, and as the fourteen, which remained for me to go in +order to reach Bollitree, in Herefordshire, would make about nine more +than either I or my horse had a taste for. But when I came to Gloucester +I found that I should run a risk of having no bed if I did not bow very +low and pay very high; for what should there be here but one of those +scandalous and beastly fruits of the system called a “Music-Meeting!” +Those who founded the Cathedrals never dreamed, I dare say, that they +would have been put to such uses as this! They are, upon these +occasions, made use of as <i>Opera-Houses</i>; and I am told that the money +which is collected goes, in some shape or another, to the Clergy of the +Church, or their widows, or children, or something. These assemblages of +player-folks, half-rogues and half-fools, began with the small +paper-money; and with it they will go. They are amongst the profligate +pranks which idleness plays when fed by the sweat of a starving people. +From this scene of prostitution and of pocket-picking I moved off with +all convenient speed, but not before the ostler made me pay 9<i>d.</i> for +merely letting my horse <i>stand</i> about ten minutes, and not before he had +<i>begun</i> to abuse me for declining, though in a very polite manner, to +make him a present in addition to the 9<i>d.</i> How he ended I do not know; +for I soon set the noise of the shoes of my horse to answer him. I got +to this village, about eight miles from Gloucester, by five o’clock: it +is now half past seven, and I am going to bed with an intention of +getting to Bollitree (six miles only) early enough in the morning to +catch my sons in bed if they play the sluggard.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bollitree,<br />Wednesday, 13th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>This morning was most beautiful. There has been rain here now, and the +grass begins (but only begins) to grow. When I got within two hundred +yards of Mr. Palmer’s I had the happiness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> to meet my son Richard, who +said that he had been up an hour. As I came along I saw one of the +prettiest sights in the <i>flower</i> way that I ever saw in my life. It was +a little orchard; the grass in it had just taken a start, and was +beautifully fresh; and very thickly growing amongst the grass was the +purple flowered <i>Colchicum</i> in full bloom. They say that the leaves of +this plant, which come out in the spring and die away in the summer, are +poisonous to cattle if they eat much of them in the spring. The flower, +if standing by itself, would be no great beauty; but contrasted thus +with the fresh grass, which was a little shorter than itself, it was +very beautiful.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Bollitree,<br />Saturday, 23rd Sept.</i></p> + +<p>Upon my arrival here, which, as the reader has seen, was ten days ago, I +had a parcel of <i>letters</i> to open, amongst which were a large lot from +Correspondents, who had been good enough to set me right with regard to +that conceited and impudent plagiarist, or literary thief, “Sir James +Graham, Baronet of Netherby.” One correspondent says that I have +reversed the rule of the Decalogue by visiting the sins of the son upon +the father. Another tells me anecdotes about the “Magnus Apollo.” I +hereby do the father justice by saying that, from what I have now heard +of him, I am induced to believe that he would have been ashamed to +commit flagrant acts of plagiarism, which the son has been guilty of. +The whole of this plagiarist’s pamphlet is bad enough. Every part of it +is contemptible; but the passage in which he says that there was “no man +of any authority who did not under-rate the distress that would arise +out of Peel’s Bill;” this passage merits a broom-stick at the hands of +any Englishman that chooses to lay it on, and particularly from me.</p> + +<p>As to <i>crops</i> in Herefordshire and Gloucestershire, they have been very +bad. Even the wheat here has been only a two-third part crop. The barley +and oats really next to nothing. <i>Fed off</i> by cattle and sheep in many +places, partly for want of grass and partly from their worthlessness. +The cattle have been nearly starved in many places; and we hear the same +from Worcestershire. In some places one of these beautiful calves (last +spring calves) will be given for the wintering of another. Hay at Stroud +was six pounds a ton: last year it was 3<i>l.</i> a ton: and yet meat and +cheese are lower in price than they were last year. Mutton (I mean +alive) was last year at this time 7½<i>d.</i>; it is now 6<i>d.</i> There has +been in North Wilts and in Gloucestershire half the quantity of cheese +made this year, and yet the price is lower than it was last year. Wool +is half the last year’s price. There has, within these three weeks or a +month, been a prodigious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> increase in the quantity of cattle food; the +grass looks like the grass late in May; and the late and stubble-turnips +(of which immense quantities have been sown) have grown very much, and +promise large crops generally; yet lean sheep have, at the recent fairs, +fallen in price; they have been lessening in price, while the facility +of keeping them has been augmenting! Aye; but the paper-money has not +been augmenting, notwithstanding the Branch-Bank at Gloucester! This +bank is quite ready, they say, to take deposits; that is to say, to keep +people’s spare money for them; but to lend them none, without such +security as would get money, even from the claws of a miser. This trick +is, then, what the French call a <i>coup-manqué</i>; or a missing of the +mark. In spite of everything, as to the season, calculated to cause lean +sheep to rise in price, they fell, I hear, at Wilton fair (near +Salisbury) on the 12th instant, from 2<i>s.</i> to 3<i>s.</i> a head. And +yesterday, 22nd Sept., at Newent fair, there was a fall since the last +fair in this neighbourhood. Mr. Palmer sold, at this fair, sheep for +23<i>s.</i> a head, rather better than some which he sold at the same fair +last year for 34<i>s.</i> a head: so that here is a falling off of a third! +Think of the dreadful ruin, then, which must fall upon the renting +farmers, whether they rent the land, or rent the money which enables +them to call the land their own! The recent Order in Council <i>has</i> +ruined many. I was, a few days after that Order reached us, in +Wiltshire, in a rick yard, looking at the ricks, amongst which were two +of beans. I asked the farmer how much the Order would take out of his +pocket; and he said it had already taken out more than a hundred pounds! +This is a pretty state of things for a man to live in! The winds are +less uncertain than this calling of a farmer is now become, though it is +a calling the affairs of which have always been deemed as little liable +to accident as anything human.</p> + +<p>The “best public instructor” tells us, that the Ministers are about to +give the <i>Militia-Clothing</i> to the poor Manufacturers! Coats, +waistcoats, trousers, shoes and stockings! Oh, what a kind as well as +wise “envy of surrounding nations” this is! Dear good souls! But what +are the <i>women</i> to do? No <i>smocks</i>, pretty gentlemen! No royal +commission to be appointed to distribute smocks to the suffering +“females” of the “<i>disturbed</i> districts!” How fine our “manufacturing +population” will look all dressed in <i>red</i>! Then indeed will the farming +fellows have to repent, that they did not follow the advice of Dr. +Black, and fly to the “<i>happy</i> manufacturing districts,” where +employment, as the Doctor affirmed, was so abundant and so permanent, +and where wages were so high! Out of evil comes good; and this state of +things has blown the Scotch <i>poleeteecal ecoonoomy</i> to the devil, at any +rate. In spite of all their plausibility and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> persevering brass, the +Scotch writers are now generally looked upon as so many tricky humbugs. +Mr. Sedgwick’s affair is enough, one would think, to open men’s eyes to +the character of this greedy band of <i>invaders</i>; for invaders they are, +and of the very worst sort: they come only to live on the labour of +others; never to work themselves; and, while they do this, they are +everlastingly publishing essays, the object of which is, to keep the +Irish out of England! Dr. Black has, within these four years, published +more than a hundred articles, in which he has represented the invasion +of the Irish as being ruinous to England! What monstrous impudence! The +Irish come to help do the work; the Scotch to help eat the taxes; or, to +tramp “<i>aboot mon</i>” with a pack and licence; or, in other words, to +cheat upon a small scale, as their superiors do upon a large one. This +tricky and greedy set have, however, at last, overreached themselves, +after having so long overreached all the rest of mankind that have had +the misfortune to come in contact with them. They are now smarting under +the scourge, the torments of which they have long made others feel. They +have been the principal inventors and executors of all that has been +damnable to England. They are <i>now</i> bothered; and I thank God for it. It +may, and it must, finally deliver us from their baleful influence.</p> + +<p>To return to the kind and pretty gentlemen of Whitehall, and their +<i>Militia-Clothing</i>: if they refuse to supply the women with smocks, +perhaps they would have no objection to hand them over some petticoats; +or at any rate, to give their husbands a <i>musket</i> a piece, and a little +powder and ball; just to amuse themselves with, instead of the +employment of “digging holes one day and filling them up the next,” as +suggested by “the great statesman, now no more,” who was one of that +“noble, honourable, and venerable body” the Privy Council (to which +Sturges Bourne belongs), and who cut his own throat at North Cray, in +Kent, just about three years after he had brought in the bill, which +compelled me to make the Register contain two sheets and a quarter, and +to compel printers to give, before they began to print, bail to pay any +fines that might be inflicted on them for anything that they might +print. Let me see: where was I? Oh! the muskets and powder and ball +ought, certainly, to go with the red clothes; but how strange it is, +that the <i>real relief</i> never seems to occur, even for one single moment, +to the minds of these pretty gentlemen; namely, <i>taking off the taxes</i>. +What a thing it is to behold poor people receiving taxes, or alms, to +prevent them from starving; and to behold one half, at least, of what +they receive, taken from them in taxes! What a sight to behold soldiers, +horse and foot, employed to prevent a distressed people from committing +acts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> of violence, when the <i>cost</i> of the horse and foot would, +probably, if applied in the way of relief to the sufferers, prevent the +existence of the distress! A cavalry horse has, I think, ten pounds of +oats a day and twenty pounds of hay. These at present prices, cost +16<i>s.</i> a week. Then there is stable room, barracks, straw, saddle and +all the trappings. Then there is the wear of the horse. Then the pay of +them. So that one single horseman, with his horse, do not cost so little +as 36<i>s.</i> a week; and that is more than the parish allowance to five +labourers’ or manufacturers’ families, at five to a family; so that one +horseman and his horse cost what would feed twenty-five of the +distressed creatures. If there be ten thousand of these horsemen, they +cost as much as would keep, at the parish rate, two hundred and fifty +thousand of the distressed persons. Aye; it is even so, parson Hay, +stare at it as long as you like. But, suppose it to be only half as +much: then it would maintain a hundred and twenty-five thousand persons. +However, to get rid of all dispute, and to state one staring and +undeniable fact, let me first observe, that it is notorious, that the +poor-rates are looked upon as enormous; that they are deemed an +insupportable burden; that Scarlett and Nolan have asserted, that they +threaten to swallow up the land; that it is equally notorious that a +large part of the poor-rates ought to be called <i>wages</i>; all this is +undeniable, and now comes the damning fact; namely, that the whole +amount of these poor-rates falls far short of the cost of the standing +army in time of peace! So that, take away this army, which is to keep +the distressed people from committing acts of violence, and you have, at +once, ample means of removing all the distress and all the danger of +acts of violence! <i>When</i> will this be done? Do not say, “<i>Never</i>,” +reader: if you do, you are not only a slave, but you ought to be one.</p> + +<p>I cannot dismiss this <i>militia-clothing</i> affair, without remarking, that +I do not agree with those who <i>blame</i> the Ministers for having let in +the foreign corn <i>out of fear</i>. Why not do it from that motive? “The +fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” And what is meaned by +“fear of the Lord,” but the fear of doing wrong, or of persevering in +doing wrong? And whence is this fear to arise? From thinking of the +<i>consequences</i>, to be sure: and, therefore if the Ministers did let in +the foreign corn for fear of popular commotion, they acted rightly, and +their motive was as good and reasonable as the act was wise and just. It +would have been lucky for them if the same sort of motive had prevailed, +when the Corn Bill was passed; but that <i>game-cock</i> statesman, who at +last, sent a spur into his own throat, was then in high feather, and he, +while soldiers were drawn up round the Honourable, Honourable, +Honourable House, said, that he did not for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> his part, care much about +the Bill; but, since the mob had clamoured against <i>it</i>, he was resolved +to support it! Alas! that such a <i>cock</i> statesman should have come to +such an end! All the towns and cities in England petitioned against that +odious Bill. Their petitions were rejected, and that rejection is +<i>amongst</i> the causes of the present embarrassments. Therefore I am not +for blaming the Ministers for acting from <i>fear</i>. They did the same in +the case of the poor Queen. Fear taught them wisely, then, also. What! +would you never have people act from <i>fear</i>? What but fear of the law +restrains many men from committing crimes? What but fear of exposure +prevents thousands upon thousands of offences, moral as well as legal? +Nonsense about “acting from fear.” I always hear with great suspicion +your eulogists of “<i>vigorous</i>” government; I do not like your vigorous +governments; your game-cock governments. We saw enough of these, and +<i>felt</i> enough of them too, under Pitt, Dundas, Perceval, Gibbs, +Ellenborough, Sidmouth and Castlereagh. I prefer governments like those +of Edward I. of England and St. Louis of France; <i>cocks</i> as towards +their enemies and rivals, and <i>chickens</i> as towards their own people: +precisely the reverse of our modern “country gentlemen,” as they call +themselves; very lions as towards their poor, robbed, famishing +labourers, but more than lambs as towards tax-eaters, and especially as +towards the fierce and whiskered <i>dead-weight</i>, in the presence of any +of whom they dare not say that their souls are their own. This base race +of men, called “country gentlemen” must be speedily changed by almost a +miracle; or they, big as well as little, must be swept away; and if it +should be desirable for posterity to have a just idea of them, let +posterity take this one fact; that the tithes are now, in part, received +by men, who are Rectors and Vicars, and who, at the same time receive +half-pay as naval or military officers; and that not one English +“country gentleman” has had the courage even to complain of this, though +many gallant half-pay officers have been dismissed and beggared, upon +the ground, that the half-pay is not a reward for past services, but a +retaining fee for future services; so that, put the two together, they +amount to this; that the half-pay is given to church parsons, that they +may be, when war comes, ready to serve as officers in the army or navy! +Let the world match that if it can! And yet there are scoundrels to say, +that we do not want a <i>radical reform</i>! Why there must be such a reform, +in order to prevent us from becoming a mass of wretches too corrupt and +profligate and base even to carry on the common transactions of life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Ryall, near Upton on Severn (Worcestershire),<br />Monday, 25th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>I set off from Mr. Palmer’s yesterday, after breakfast, having his son +(about 13 years old) as my travelling companion. We came across the +country, a distance of about 22 miles, and, having crossed the Severn at +Upton, arrived here, at Mr. John Price’s, about two o’clock. On our road +we passed by the estate and park of <i>another Ricardo</i>! This is Osmond; +the other is David. This one has ousted two families of Normans, the +Honeywood Yateses, and the Scudamores. They suppose him to have ten +thousand pounds a year in rent here! Famous “watching the turn of the +market”! The Barings are at work down in this country too. They are +everywhere, indeed, depositing their eggs about, like cunning old +guinea-hens, in sly places, besides the great, open showy nests that +they have. The “instructor” tells us, that the Ricardos have received +sixty-four thousand pounds Commission, on the “Greek Loans,” or, rather, +“Loans to the Greeks.” Oh, brave Greeks, to have such patriots to aid +you with their financial skill; such patriots as Mr. Galloway to make +engines of war for you, while his son is making them for the Turks; and +such patriots as Burdett and Hobhouse to talk of your political +relations! Happy Greeks! Happy Mexicans, too, it seems; for the “best +instructor” tells us, that the Barings, whose progenitors came from +Dutchland about the same time as, and perhaps in company with, the +Ricardos; happy Mexicans too; for, the “instructor” as good as swears, +that the Barings will see that the dividends on your loans are paid in +future! Now, therefore, the riches, the loads, the shiploads of silver +and gold are now to pour in upon us! Never was there a nation so foolish +as this! But, and this ought to be well understood, it is not <i>mere</i> +foolishness; not mere harmless folly; it is foolishness, the offspring +of <i>greediness</i> and of a <i>gambling</i>, which is little short of a +<i>roguish</i> disposition; and this disposition prevails to an enormous +extent in the country, as I am told, more than in the monstrous Wen +itself. Most delightfully, however, have the greedy, mercenary, selfish, +unfeeling wretches, been bit by the <i>loans</i> and <i>shares</i>! The King of +Spain gave the wretches a sharp bite, for which I always most cordially +thank his Majesty. I dare say, that his sponging off of the roguish +Bonds has reduced to beggary, or caused to cut their throats, many +thousands of the greedy, fund-loving, stock-jobbing devils, who, if they +regard it likely to raise their “securities” one per cent., would +applaud the murder of half the human race. These vermin all, without a +single exception, approved of, and rejoiced at, Sidmouth’s +<i>Power-of-Imprisonment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> Bill</i>, and they applauded his <i>Letter of Thanks +to the Manchester Yeomanry Cavalry</i>. No matter what it is that puts an +end to a system which engenders and breeds up vermin like these.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hanford, of this county, and Mr. Canning of Gloucestershire, having +dined at Mr. Price’s yesterday, I went, to-day, with Mr. Price to see +Mr. Hanford at his house and estate at Bredon Hill, which is, I believe, +one of the highest in England. The ridge, or, rather, the edge of it, +divides, in this part, Worcestershire from Gloucestershire. At the very +highest part of it there are the remains of an encampment, or rather, I +should think, citadel. In many instances, in Wiltshire, these marks of +fortifications are called castles still; and, doubtless, there were once +castles on these spots. From Bredon Hill you see into nine or ten +counties; and those curious bubblings-up, the Malvern Hills, are right +before you, and only at about ten miles’ distance, in a straight line. +As this hill looks over the counties of Worcester, Gloucester, Hereford +and part of Warwick and the rich part of Stafford; and, as it looks over +the vales of Esham, Worcester, and Gloucester, having the Avon and the +Severn, winding down them, you certainly see from this Bredon Hill one +of the very richest spots of England, and I am fully convinced, a richer +spot than is to be seen in any other country in the world; I mean +<i>Scotland excepted</i>, of course, for fear Sawney should cut my throat, +or, which is much the same thing squeeze me by the hand, from which last +I pray thee to deliver me, O Lord!</p> + +<p>The Avon (this is the <i>third</i> Avon that I have crossed in this Ride) +falls into the Severn just below Tewkesbury, through which town we went +in our way to Mr. Hanford’s. These rivers, particularly the Severn, go +through, and sometimes overflow, the finest meadows of which it is +possible to form an idea. Some of them contain more than a hundred acres +each; and the number of cattle and sheep, feeding in them, is +prodigious. Nine-tenths of the land, in these extensive vales, appears +to me to be pasture, and it is pasture of the richest kind. The sheep +are chiefly of the Leicester breed, and the cattle of the Hereford, +white face and dark red body, certainly the finest and most beautiful of +all horn-cattle. The grass, after the fine rains that we have had, is in +its finest possible dress; but, here, as in the parts of Gloucestershire +and Herefordshire that I have seen, there are no turnips, except those +which have been recently sown; and, though amidst all these thousands +upon thousands of acres of the finest meadows and grass land in the +world, hay is, I hear, seven pounds a ton at Worcester. However, unless +we should have very early and even hard frosts, the grass will be so +abundant, that the cattle and sheep will do better than people are apt +to think. But, be this as it may, this summer has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> taught us, that our +climate is the <i>best for produce</i>, after all; and that we cannot have +Italian sun and English meat and cheese. We complain of the <i>drip</i>; but +it is the drip that makes the beef and the mutton.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hanford’s house is on the side of Bredon Hill; about a third part up +it, and is a very delightful place. The house is of ancient date, and it +appears to have been always inhabited by and the property of Roman +Catholics; for there is, in one corner of the very top of the building, +up in the very roof of it, a Catholic chapel, as ancient as the roof +itself. It is about twenty-five feet long and ten wide. It has +arch-work, to imitate the roof of a church. At the back of the altar +there is a little room, which you enter through a door going out of the +chapel; and, adjoining this little room, there is a closet, in which is +a trapdoor made to let the priests down into one of those hiding places, +which were contrived for the purpose of evading the grasp of those +greedy Scotch minions, to whom that pious and tolerant Protestant, James +I., delivered over those English gentlemen, who remained faithful to the +religion of their fathers, and, to set his country free from which +greedy and cruel grasp, that honest Englishman, Guy Fawkes, wished, as +he bravely told the King and his Scotch council, “<i>to blow the Scotch +beggars back to their mountains again</i>.” Even this King has, in his +works (for James was an author), had the justice to call him “the +English Scævola”; and we Englishmen, fools set on by knaves, have the +folly, or the baseness, to burn him in effigy on the 5th November, the +anniversary of his intended exploit! In the hall of this house there is +the portrait of Sir Thomas Winter, who was one of the accomplices of +Fawkes, and who was killed in the fight with the sheriff and his party. +There is also the portrait of his lady, who must have spent half her +life-time in the working of some very curious sacerdotal vestments, +which are preserved here with great care, and are as fresh and as +beautiful as they were the day they were finished.</p> + +<p>A parson said to me, once, by letter: “Your religion, Mr. Cobbett, seems +to me to be altogether <i>political</i>.” “Very much so, indeed,” answered I, +“and well it may, since I have been furnished with a creed which makes +part of an Act of Parliament.” And, the fact is, I am no Doctor of +Divinity, and like a religion, any religion, that tends to make men +innocent and benevolent and happy, by taking the best possible means of +furnishing them with plenty to eat and drink and wear. I am a Protestant +of the Church of England, and, as such, blush to see, that more than +half the parsonage-houses are wholly gone, or are become mere hovels. +What I have written on the “Protestant Reformation,” has proceeded +entirely from a sense of justice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> towards our calumniated Catholic +forefathers, to whom we owe all those of our institutions that are +worthy of our admiration and gratitude. I have not written as a +Catholic, but as an Englishman; yet a sincere Catholic must feel some +little gratitude towards me; and, if there was an ungrateful reptile in +the neighbourhood of Preston, to give, as a toast, “Success to Stanley +and Wood,” the conduct of those Catholics that I have seen here has, as +far as I am concerned, amply compensated for his baseness.</p> + +<p>This neighbourhood has witnessed some pretty thumping transfers from the +Normans. Holland, one of Baring’s partners, or clerks, has recently +bought an estate of Lord Somers, called Dumbleton, for, it is said, +about eighty thousand pounds. Another estate of the same Lord, called +Strensham, has been bought by a Brummigeham Banker of the name of +Taylor, for, it is said, seventy thousand pounds. “Eastnor Castle,” just +over the Malvern Hills, is still building, and Lord Eastnor lives at +that pretty little warm and snug place, the priory of Reigate, in +Surrey, and close by the not less snug little borough of the same name. +<span class="smcap">Memorandum.</span> When we were petitioning <i>for reform</i>, in 1817, my Lord +Somers wrote and published a pamphlet, under his own name, condemning +our conduct and our principles, and insisting that we, if let alone, +should produce “<i>a revolution</i>, and <i>endanger all property</i>!” The +Barings are adding field to field and tract to tract in Herefordshire; +and, as to the Ricardos, they seem to be animated with the same laudable +spirit. This Osmond Ricardo has a park at one of his estates, called +Broomsborough, and that park has a new porter’s lodge, upon which there +is a span new cross as large as life! Aye, big enough and long enough to +crucify a man upon! I had never seen such an one before; and I know not +what sort of thought it was that seized me at the moment; but, though my +horse is but a clumsy goer, I verily believe I got away from it at the +rate of ten or twelve miles an hour. My companion, who is always upon +the look-out for cross-ditches, or pieces of timber, on the road-side, +to fill up the time of which my jog-trot gives him so wearisome a +surplus, seemed delighted at this my new pace; and, I dare say he has +wondered ever since what should have given me wings just for that once +and that once only.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Worcester,<br />Tuesday, 26th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>Mr. Price rode with us to this city, which is one of the cleanest, +neatest, and handsomest towns I ever saw: indeed, I do not recollect to +have seen any one equal to it. The <i>cathedral</i> is, indeed, a poor thing, +compared with any of the others, except that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> of Hereford; and I have +seen them all but those of Carlisle, Durham, York, Lincoln, Chester, and +Peterborough; but the <i>town</i> is, I think, the very best I ever saw; and +which is, indeed, the greatest of all recommendations, the <i>people</i> are, +upon the whole, the most suitably dressed and most decent looking +people. The town is precisely in character with the beautiful and rich +country, in the midst of which it lies. Everything you see gives you the +idea of real, solid wealth; aye! and thus it was, too, before, long +before, Pitt, and even long before “good Queen Bess” and her military +law and her Protestant racks, were ever heard or dreamed of.</p> + +<p>At Worcester, as everywhere else, I find a group of cordial and sensible +friends, at the house of one of whom, Mr. George Brooke, I have just +spent a most pleasant evening, in company with several gentlemen, whom +he had had the goodness to invite to meet me. I here learned a fact, +which I must put upon record before it escape my memory. Some few years +ago (about seven, perhaps), at the public sale by auction of the goods +of a then recently deceased Attorney of the name of Hyde, in this city, +there were, amongst the goods to be sold, the portraits of <i>Pitt</i>, +<i>Burdett</i>, and <i>Paine</i>, all framed and glazed. Pitt, with hard driving +and very lofty praises, fetched fifteen shillings; Burdett fetched +twenty-seven shillings. Paine was, in great haste, knocked down at five +pounds; and my informant was convinced, that the lucky purchaser might +have had fifteen pounds for it. I hear Colonel Davies spoken of here +with great approbation: he will soon have an opportunity of showing us +whether he deserve it.</p> + +<p>The hop-picking and bagging is over here. The crop, as in the other +hop-countries, has been very great, and the quality as good as ever was +known. The average price appears to be about 75<i>s.</i> the hundred weight. +The reader (if he do not belong to a hop-country) should be told, that +hop-planters, and even all their neighbours, are, as hop-ward, <i>mad</i>, +though the most sane and reasonable people as to all other matters. They +are ten times more jealous upon this score than men ever are of their +wives; aye, and than they are of their mistresses, which is going a +great deal farther. I, who am a <i>Farnham</i> man, was well aware of this +foible; and therefore, when a gentleman told me, that he would not brew +with Farnham hops, if he could have them as a gift, I took special care +not to ask him how it came to pass, that the Farnham hops always sold at +about double the price of the Worcester; but, if he had said the same +thing to any other Farnham man that I ever saw, I should have preferred +being absent from the spot: the hops are bitter, but nothing is their +bitterness compared to the language that my townsman would have put +forth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span>This city, or this neighbourhood, at least, being the birth-place of +what I have called, the “Little-Shilling project,” and Messrs. Atwood +and Spooner being the originators of the project, and the project having +been adopted by Mr. Western, and having been by him now again recently +urged upon the Ministers, in a Letter to Lord Liverpool, and it being +possible that some worthy persons may be misled, and even ruined, by the +confident assertions and the pertinacity of the projectors; this being +the case, and I having half an hour to spare, will here endeavour to +show, in as few words as I can, that this project, if put into +execution, would produce injustice the most crying that the world ever +heard of, and would, in the present state of things, infallibly lead to +a violent revolution. The project is to “lower the standard,” as they +call it; that is to say, to make a <i>sovereign pass for more than 20s.</i> +In what <i>degree</i> they would reduce the standard they do not say; but a +vile pamphlet writer, whose name is Crutwell, and who is a beneficed +parson, and who has most foully abused me, because I laugh at the +project, says that he would reduce it one half; that is to say, that he +would make a sovereign pass for two pounds. Well, then, let us, for +plainness’ sake, suppose that the present sovereign is, all at once, to +pass for two pounds. What will the consequences be? Why, here is a +parson, who receives his tithes in kind and whose tithes are, we will +suppose, a thousand bushels of wheat in a year, on an average; and he +owes a thousand pounds to somebody. He will pay his debt with 500 +sovereigns, and he will still receive his thousand bushels of wheat a +year! I let a farm for 100<i>l.</i> a year, by the year; and I have a +mortgage of 2000<i>l.</i> upon it, the interest just taking away the rent. +Pass the project, and then I, of course, raise my rent to 200<i>l.</i> a +year, and I still pay the mortgagee 100<i>l.</i> a year! What can be plainer +than this? But, the Banker’s is the fine case. I deposit with a banker a +thousand whole sovereigns to-day. Pass the project to-morrow, and the +banker pays me my deposit with a thousand half sovereigns! If, indeed, +you could double the quantity of corn and meat and all goods by the same +Act of Parliament, then, all would be right; but that quantity will +remain what it was before you passed the project; and, of course, the +money being doubled in nominal amount, the price of the goods would be +doubled. There needs not another word upon the subject; and whatever may +be the national inference respecting the intellects of Messrs. Atwood +and Spooner, I must say, that I do most sincerely believe, that there is +not one of my readers, who will not feel astonishment, that any men, +having the reputation of men of sound mind, should not clearly see, that +such a project must almost instantly produce a revolution of the most +dreadful character.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Stanford Park,<br />Wednesday, 27th Sept. (Morning).</i></p> + +<p>In a letter which I received from Sir Thomas Winnington (one of the +Members for this county), last year, he was good enough to request that +I would call upon him, if I ever came into Worcestershire, which I told +him I would do; and accordingly here we are in his house, situated, +certainly, in one of the finest spots in all England. We left Worcester +yesterday about ten o’clock, crossed the Severn, which runs close by the +town, and came on to this place, which lies in a north-western direction +from Worcester, at 14 miles distance from that city, and at about six +from the borders of Shropshire. About four miles back we passed by the +park and through the estate of Lord Foley, to whom is due the praise of +being a most indefatigable and successful <i>planter of trees</i>. He seems +to have taken uncommon pains in the execution of this work; and he has +the merit of disinterestedness, the trees being chiefly oaks, which he +is <i>sure</i> he can never see grow to timber. We crossed the Teme River +just before we got here. Sir Thomas was out shooting; but he soon came +home, and gave us a very polite reception. I had time, yesterday, to see +the place, to look at trees, and the like, and I wished to get away +early this morning; but, being prevailed on to stay to breakfast, here I +am, at six o’clock in the morning, in one of the best and best-stocked +private libraries that I ever saw; and, what is more, the owner, from +what passed yesterday, when he brought me hither, convinced me that he +was acquainted with the <i>insides</i> of the books. I asked, and shall ask, +no questions about who got these books together; but the collection is +such as, I am sure, I never saw before in a private house.</p> + +<p>The house and stables and courts are such as they ought to be for the +great estate that surrounds them; and the park is everything that is +beautiful. On one side of the house, looking over a fine piece of water, +you see a distant valley, opening between lofty hills: on another side +the ground descends a little at first, then goes gently rising for a +while, and then rapidly, to the distance of a mile perhaps, where it is +crowned with trees in irregular patches, or groups, single and most +magnificent trees being scattered all over the whole of the park; on +another side, there rise up beautiful little hills, some in the form of +barrows on the downs, only forty or a hundred times as large, one or two +with no trees on them, and others topped with trees; but, on one of +these little hills, and some yards higher than the lofty trees which are +on this little hill, you see rising up the tower of the parish church, +which hill is, I think, taken all together, amongst the most delightful +objects that I ever beheld.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span>“Well, then,” says the devil of laziness, “and could you not be +contented to live here all the rest of your life; and never again pester +yourself with the cursed politics?” “Why, I think I have laboured +enough. Let others work now. And such a pretty place for coursing and +for hare-hunting and woodcock shooting, I dare say; and then those +pretty wild-ducks in the water, and the flowers and the grass and the +trees and all the birds in spring and the fresh air, and never, never +again to be stifled with the smoke that from the infernal Wen ascendeth +for ever more and that every easterly wind brings to choke me at +Kensington!” The <i>last word</i> of this soliloquy carried me back, slap, to +my own study (very much unlike that which I am in), and bade me think of +the <span class="smcap">Gridiron</span>; bade me think of the complete triumph that I have yet to +enjoy: promised me the pleasure of seeing a million of trees of my own, +and sown by my own hands this very year. Ah! but the hares and the +pheasants and the wild ducks! Yes, but the delight of seeing Prosperity +Robinson hang his head for shame: the delight of beholding the +tormenting embarrassments of those who have so long retained crowds of +base miscreants to revile me; the delight of ousting spitten-upon +Stanley and bound-over Wood! Yes, but, then, the flowers and the birds +and the sweet air! What, then, shall Canning never again hear of the +“revered and ruptured Ogden!” Shall he go into his grave without being +again reminded of “driving at the whole herd, in order to get at “the +<i>ignoble animal</i>!” Shall he never again be told of Six-Acts and of his +wish “to extinguish that <i>accursed torch of discord for ever</i>!” Oh! God +forbid! farewell hares and dogs and birds! what, shall Sidmouth, then, +never again hear of his <i>Power of Imprisonment Bill</i>, of his <i>Circular</i>, +of his <i>Letter of Thanks to the Manchester Yeomanry</i>! I really jumped up +when this thought came athwart my mind, and, without thinking of the +breakfast, said to George who was sitting by me, “Go, George, and tell +them to saddle the horses;” for, it seemed to me, that I had been +meditating some crime. Upon George asking me, whether I would not stop +to breakfast? I bade him not order the horses out yet; and here we are, +waiting for breakfast.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Ryall,<br />Wednesday Night, 27th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>After breakfast we took our leave of Sir Thomas Winnington, and of +Stanford, very much pleased with our visit. We wished to reach Ryall as +early as possible in the day, and we did not, therefore, stop at +Worcester. We got here about three o’clock, and we intend to set off, in +another direction, early in the morning.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span></p> +<h3>RIDE FROM RYALL, IN WORCESTERSHIRE, TO BURGHCLERE, IN HAMPSHIRE.</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>“Alas, the country! How shall tongue or pen<br /> +Bewail her now, <i>un</i>country gentlemen!<br /> +The last to bid the cry of warfare cease,<br /> +The first to make a malady of peace!<br /> +For what were all these country patriots born?<br /> +To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn.<br /> +But corn, like ev’ry mortal thing, must fall:<br /> +Kings, conquerors, and, <i>markets most of all</i>.”</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><span class="smcap">Lord Byron.</span></td></tr></table> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Ryall,<br />Friday Morning, 29th September, 1826.</i></p> + +<p>I have observed, in this country, and especially near Worcester, that +the working people seem to be better off than in many other parts, one +cause of which is, I dare say, that <i>glove manufacturing</i>, which cannot +be carried on by fire or by wind or by water, and which is, therefore, +carried on by the <i>hands</i> of human beings. It gives work to women and +children as well as to men; and that work is, by a great part of the +women and children, done in their cottages, and amidst the fields and +hop-gardens, where the husbands and sons must live, in order to raise +the food and the drink and the wool. This is a great thing for the land. +If this glove-making were to cease, many of these women and children, +now not upon the parish, must instantly be upon the parish. The +glove-trade is, like all others, slack from this last change in the +value of money; but there is no horrible misery here, as at Manchester, +Leeds, Glasgow, Paisley, and other Hell-Holes of 84 degrees of heat. +There misery walks abroad in skin, bone and nakedness. There are no +subscriptions wanted for Worcester; no militia-clothing. The working +people suffer, trades’-people suffer, and who is to escape, except the +monopolizers, the Jews, and the tax-eaters, when the Government chooses +to raise the value of money, and lower the price of goods? The whole of +the industrious part of the country must suffer in such a case; but, +where manufacturing is mixed with agriculture, where the wife and +daughters are at the needle, or the wheel, while the men and the boys +are at plough, and where the manufacturing, of which one or two towns +are the centres, is spread over the whole country round about, and +particularly where it is, in very great part, performed by females at +their <i>own homes</i>, and where the earnings come <i>in aid of the man’s +wages</i>; in such case the misery cannot be so great; and accordingly, +while there is an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> absolute destruction of life going on in the +hell-holes, there is no <i>visible</i> misery at, or near, Worcester; and I +cannot take my leave of this county without observing, that I do not +recollect to have seen one miserable object in it. The working people +all seem to have good large gardens, and pigs in their styes; and this +last, say the <i>feelosofers</i> what they will about her “antallectual +enjoyments,” is the <i>only</i> security for happiness in a labourer’s +family.</p> + +<p>Then, this glove-manufacturing is not like that of cottons, a mere +gambling concern, making Baronets to-day and Bankrupts to-morrow, and +making those who do the work slaves. Here are no masses of people, +called together by a <i>bell</i>, and “kept <i>to it</i>” by a driver; here are no +“patriots,” who, while they keep Englishmen to it by fines, and almost +by the scourge, in a heat of 84 degrees, are petitioning the Parliament +to “give freedom” to the South Americans, who, as these “patriots” have +been informed, use a great quantity of <i>cottons</i>!</p> + +<p>The dilapidation of parsonage-houses and the depopulation of villages +appears not to have been so great just round about Worcester, as in some +other parts; but they have made great progress even here. No man appears +to fat an ox, or hardly a sheep, except with a view of sending it to +London, or to some other infernal resort of monopolizers and tax-eaters. +Here, as in Wiltshire and Gloucestershire and Herefordshire, you find +plenty of large churches without scarcely any people. I dare say, that, +even in this county, more than one half of the parishes have either no +parsonage-houses at all; or, have not one that a parson thinks fit for +him to live in; and, I venture to assert, that one or the other of these +is the case in four parishes out of every five in Herefordshire! Is not +this a monstrous shame? Is this “a church”? Is this “law”? The parsons +get the tithes and the rent of the glebe-lands, and the parsonage-houses +are left to tumble down, and nettles and brambles to hide the spot where +they stood. But, the fact is, the Jew-system has swept all the little +gentry, the small farmers, and the domestic manufacturers away. The land +is now used to raise food and drink for the monopolizers and the +tax-eaters and their purveyors and lackeys and harlots; and they get +together in Wens.</p> + +<p>Of all the mean, all the cowardly reptiles, that ever crawled on the +face of the earth, the <i>English land-owners</i> are the most mean and the +most cowardly: for, while they support the churches in their several +parishes, while they see the population drawn away from their parishes +to the Wens, while they are taxed to keep the people in the Wens, and +while they see their own Parsons pocket the tithes and the glebe-rents, +and suffer the parsonage-houses to fall down; while they see all this, +they,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> without uttering a word in the way of complaint, suffer +themselves and their neighbours to be taxed, to build new churches for +the monopolizers and tax-eaters in those Wens! Never was there in this +world a set of reptiles so base as this. Stupid as many of them are, +they must clearly see the flagrant injustice of making the depopulated +parishes pay for the aggrandizement of those who have caused the +depopulation, aye, actually pay taxes <i>to add to</i> the Wens, and, of +course, to cause a further depopulation of the taxed villages; stupid +beasts as many of them are, they must see the flagrant injustice of +this, and mean and cowardly as many of them are, some of them would +remonstrate against it; but, alas! the far greater part of them are, +themselves, getting, or expecting, <i>loaves and fishes</i>, either in their +own persons, or in those of their family. They smouch, or want to +smouch, some of the taxes; and, therefore, they must not complain. And +thus the thing goes on. These landowners see, too, the churches falling +down and the parsonage-houses either tumbled down or dilapidated. But, +then, mind, they have, amongst them, the giving away of the benefices! +Of course, all they want is the income, and, the less the +parsonage-house costs, the larger the spending income. But, in the +meanwhile, here is a destruction of public property; and also, from a +diversion of the income of the livings, a great injury, great injustice, +to the middle and the working classes.</p> + +<p>Is this, then, is this “church” a thing to remain untouched? Shall the +widow and the orphan, whose money has been borrowed <i>by the land-owners</i> +(including the Parsons) to purchase “victories” with; shall they be +stripped of their interest, of their very bread, and shall the Parsons, +who have let half the parsonage-houses fall down or become unfit to live +in, still keep all the tithes and the glebe-lands and the immense landed +estates, called Church Lands? Oh, no! Sir James Graham “of Netherby,” +though you are a descendant of the Earls of Monteith, of John of the +bright sword, and of the Seventh Earl of Galloway, K.T. (taking care, +for God’s sake, not to omit the K.T.); though you may be the <i>Magnus +Apollo</i>; and, in short, be you what you may, you shall never execute +your project of sponging the fund-holders and of leaving Messieurs the +Parsons untouched! In many parishes, where the livings are good too, +there is neither parsonage-house nor church! This is the case at Draycot +Foliot, in Wiltshire. The living is a Rectory; the Parson has, of +course, both great and small tithes; these tithes and the glebe-land are +worth, I am told, more than three hundred pounds a year; and yet there +is neither church nor parsonage-house; both have been suffered to fall +down and disappear; and, when a new Parson comes to take possession of +the living,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> there is, I am told, a temporary tent, or booth, erected, +upon the spot where the church ought to be, for the performance of the +<i>ceremony of induction</i>! What, then!—Ought not this church to be +repealed? An Act of Parliament made this church; an Act of Parliament +can unmake it; and is there any but a monster who would suffer this +Parson to retain this income, while that of the widow and the orphan was +taken away? Oh, no? Sir James Graham of Netherby, who, with the +<i>gridiron before you</i>, say, that there was “no man, of any authority, +who foresaw the effects of Peel’s Bill;” oh, no! thou stupid, thou +empty-headed, thou insolent aristocratic pamphleteer, the widow and the +orphan <i>shall not</i> be robbed of their bread, while this Parson of +Draycot Foliot keeps the income of his living!</p> + +<p>On my return from Worcester to this place, yesterday, I noticed, at a +village called Severn Stoke, a very curiously-constructed grape house; +that is to say a hot-house for the raising of grapes. Upon inquiry, I +found, that it belonged to a Parson of the name of St. John, whose +parsonage house is very near to it, and who, being <i>sure</i> of having the +benefice when the then Rector should die, bought a piece of land, and +erected his grapery on it, just facing, and only about 50 yards from, +the windows, out of which the <i>old parson</i> had to look until the day of +his death, with a view, doubtless, of piously furnishing his aged +brother with a <i>memento mori</i> (remember death), quite as significant as +a death’s head and cross-bones, and yet done in a manner expressive of +that fellow-feeling, that delicacy, that abstinence from +self-gratification, which are well known to be characteristics almost +peculiar to “the cloth”! To those, if there be such, who may be disposed +to suspect that the grapery arose, upon the spot where it stands, merely +from the desire to have the vines in bearing state, against the time +that the old parson should die, or, as I heard the Botley Parson once +call it, “kick the bucket;” to such persons I would just put this one +question; did they ever either from Scripture or tradition, learn that +any of the Apostles or their disciples, erected graperies from motives +such as this? They may, indeed, say, that they never heard of the +Apostles erecting any graperies at all, much less of their having +erected them from such a motive. Nor, to say the truth, did I ever hear +of any such erections on the part of those Apostles and those whom they +commissioned to preach the word of God; and, Sir William Scott (now a +<i>lord</i> of some sort) never convinced me, by his parson-praising speech +of 1802, that to give the church-clergy a due degree of influence over +the minds of the people, to make the people revere them, it was +necessary that the parsons and their wives should shine at <i>balls</i> and +in <i>pump-rooms</i>. On the contrary, these and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> like have taken away +almost the whole of their spiritual influence. They never had much; but, +lately, and especially since 1793, they have had hardly any at all; and, +wherever I go, I find them much better known as <i>Justices of the Peace</i> +than as Clergymen. What they would come to, if this system could go on +for only a few years longer, I know not: but go on, as it is now going, +it cannot much longer; there must be <i>a settlement of some sort</i>: and +that settlement never can leave that mass, that immense mass, of public +property, called “church property,” to be used as it now is.</p> + +<p>I have seen, in this country, and in Herefordshire, several pieces of +Mangel Wurzel; and, I hear, that it has nowhere failed, as the turnips +have. Even the Lucerne has, in some places, failed to a certain extent; +but Mr. Walter Palmer, at Pencoyd, in Herefordshire, has cut a piece of +Lucerne four times this last summer, and, when I saw it, on the 17th +Sept. (12 days ago), it was got a foot high towards another cut. But, +with one exception (too trifling to mention), Mr. Walter Palmer’s +Lucerne is on the Tullian plan; that is, it is in rows at four feet +distance from each other; so that you plough between as often as you +please, and thus, together with a little hand weeding between the +plants, keep the ground, at all times, clear of weeds and grass. Mr. +Palmer says, that his acre (he has no more) has kept two horses all the +summer; and he seems to complain, that it has done no more. Indeed! A +stout horse will eat much more than a fatting ox. This grass will fat +any ox, or sheep; and would not Mr. Palmer like to have ten acres of +land that would fat a score of oxen? They would do this, if they were +managed well. But is it <i>nothing</i> to keep a team of four horses, for +five months in the year, on the produce of two acres of land? If a man +say that, he must, of course, be eagerly looking forward to another +world; for nothing will satisfy him in this. A good crop of early +cabbages may be had between the rows of Lucerne.</p> + +<p><i>Cabbages</i> have, generally, wholly failed. Those that I see are almost +all too backward to make much of heads; though it is surprising how fast +they will grow and come to perfection as soon as there is <i>twelve hours +of night</i>. I am here, however, speaking of the large sorts of cabbage; +for the smaller sorts will loave in summer. Mr. Walter Palmer has now a +piece of these, of which I think there are from 17 to 20 <i>tons</i> to the +acre; and this, too, observe, after a season which, on the same farm, +has not suffered a turnip of any sort to come. If he had had 20 acres of +these, he might have almost laughed at the failure of his turnips, and +at the short crop of hay. And this is a crop of which a man may always +be <i>sure</i>, if he take proper pains.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> These cabbages (Early Yorks or some +such sort) should, if you want them in June or July, be sown early in +the previous August. If you want them in winter, sown in April, and +treated as pointed out in my <i>Cottage Economy</i>. These small sorts stand +the winter better than the large; they are more nutritious; and they +occupy the ground little more than half the time. <i>Dwarf Savoys</i> are the +finest and richest and most nutritious of cabbages. Sown early in April, +and planted out early in July, they will, at 18 inches apart each way, +yield a crop of 30 to 40 tons by Christmas. But all this supposes land +very good, or, very well manured, and plants of a good sort, and well +raised and planted, and the ground well tilled after planting; and a +crop of 30 tons is worth all these and all the care and all the pains +that a man can possibly take.</p> + +<p>I am here amongst the finest of cattle, and the finest sheep of the +Leicester kind, that I ever saw. My host, Mr. Price, is famed as a +breeder of cattle and sheep. The cattle are of the Hereford kind, and +the sheep surpassing any animals of the kind that I ever saw. The +animals seem to be made for the soil, and the soil for them.</p> + +<p>In taking leave of this county, I repeat, with great satisfaction, what +I before said about the apparent comparatively happy state of the +labouring people; and I have been very much pleased with the tone and +manner in which they are spoken to and spoken of by their superiors. I +hear of no <i>hard</i> treatment of them here, such as I have but too often +heard of in some counties, and too often witnessed in others; and I quit +Worcestershire, and particularly the house in which I am, with all those +feelings which are naturally produced by the kindest of receptions from +frank and sensible people.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Fairford (Gloucestershire),<br />Saturday Morning, 30th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>Though we came about 45 miles yesterday, we are up by day-light, and +just about to set off to sleep at Hayden, near Swindon, in Wiltshire.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Hayden, Saturday Night,<br />30th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>From Ryall, in Worcestershire, we came, yesterday (Friday) morning, +first to Tewksbury in Gloucestershire. This is a good, substantial town, +which, for many years, sent to Parliament that sensible and honest and +constant hater of Pitt and his infernal politics, James Martin, and +which now sends to the same place his son, Mr. John Martin, who, when +the memorable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> <i>Kentish Petition</i> was presented, in June 1822, proposed +that it should not be received, or that, if it were received, “the House +should not separate, until it had resolved, that the interest of the +Debt should never be reduced”! Castlereagh abused the petition; but was +for <i>receiving</i> it, in <i>order to fix on it a mark of the House’s +reprobation</i>. I said, in the next Register, that this fellow was <i>mad</i>; +and, in six or seven weeks from that day, he cut his own throat, and was +declared to have been mad at the time when this petition was presented! +The mess that “<i>the House</i>,” will be in will be bad enough as it is; but +what would have been its mess, if it had, in its strong fit of “good +faith,” been furious enough to adopt Mr. Martin’s “resolution”!</p> + +<p>The Warwickshire Avon falls into the Severn here, and on the sides of +both, for many miles back, there are the finest meadows that ever were +seen. In looking over them, and beholding the endless flocks and herds, +one wonders what can become of all the meat! By riding on about eight or +nine miles farther, however, this wonder is a little diminished; for +here we come to one of the devouring Wens; namely, Cheltenham, which is +what they call a “watering place;” that is to say, a place, to which +East India plunderers, West India floggers, English tax-gorgers, +together with gluttons, drunkards, and debauchees of all descriptions, +female as well as male, resort, at the suggestion of silently laughing +quacks, in the hope of getting rid of the bodily consequences of their +manifold sins and iniquities. When I enter a place like this, I always +feel disposed to squeeze up my nose with my fingers. It is nonsense, to +be sure; but I conceit that every two-legged creature, that I see coming +near me, is about to cover me with the poisonous proceeds of its +impurities. To places like this come all that is knavish and all that is +foolish and all that is base; gamesters, pickpockets, and harlots; young +wife-hunters in search of rich and ugly and old women, and young +husband-hunters in search of rich and wrinkled or half-rotten men, the +former resolutely bent, be the means what they may, to give the latter +heirs to their lands and tenements. These things are notorious; and Sir +William Scott, in his speech of 1802, in favour of the non-residence of +the Clergy, expressly said, that they and their families ought to appear +at watering places, and that this was amongst the means of making them +respected by their flocks! Memorandum: he was a member for Oxford when +he said this!</p> + +<p>Before we got into Cheltenham, I learned from a coal-carter which way we +had to go, in order to see “<i>The New Buildings</i>,” which are now nearly +at a stand. We rode up the main street of the town, for some distance, +and then turned off to the left, which soon brought us to the +“desolation of abomination.” I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> seldom seen anything with more +heartfelt satisfaction. “Oh!” said I to myself, “the accursed <span class="smcaplc">THING</span> has +certainly got a <i>blow</i>, then, in every part of its corrupt and +corrupting carcass!” The whole town (and it was now ten o’clock) looked +delightfully dull. I did not see more than four or five carriages, and, +perhaps, twenty people on horse-back; and these seemed, by their +hook-noses and round eyes, and by the long and sooty necks of the women, +to be, for the greater part, <i>Jews and Jewesses</i>. The place really +appears to be sinking very fast; and I have been told, and believe the +fact, that houses, in Cheltenham, will now sell for only just about +one-third as much as the same would have sold for only in last October. +It is curious to see the names which the vermin owners have put upon the +houses here. There is a new row of most gaudy and fantastical dwelling +places, called “Colombia Place,” given it, doubtless, by some dealer in +<i>Bonds</i>. There is what a boy told us was the “<i>New Spa</i>;” there is +“<i>Waterloo-house</i>!” Oh! how I rejoice at the ruin of the base creatures! +There is “<i>Liverpool-Cottage</i>,” “<i>Canning-Cottage</i>,” “<i>Peel-Cottage</i>;” +and the good of it is, that the ridiculous beasts have put this word +<i>cottage</i> upon scores of houses, and some very mean and shabby houses, +standing along, and making part of an unbroken street! What a figure +this place will cut in another year or two! I should not wonder to see +it nearly wholly deserted. It is situated in a nasty, flat, stupid spot, +without anything pleasant near it. A putting down of the one pound notes +will soon take away its <i>spa</i>-people. Those of the notes, that have +already been cut off, have, it seems, lessened the quantity of ailments +very considerably; another brush will cure all the complaints!</p> + +<p>They have had some rains in the summer not far from this place; for we +saw in the streets very fine turnips for sale as vegetables, and +broccoli with heads six or eight inches over! But as to the meat, it was +nothing to be compared with that of Warminster, in Wiltshire; that is to +say, the veal and lamb. I have paid particular attention to this matter, +at Worcester and Tewksbury as well as at Cheltenham; and I have seen no +veal and no lamb to be compared with those of Warminster. I have been +thinking, but cannot imagine how it is, that the Wen-Devils, either at +Bath or London, do not get this meat away from Warminster. I hope that +my observations on it will not set them to work; for, if it do, the +people of Warminster will never have a bit of good meat again.</p> + +<p>After Cheltenham we had to reach this pretty little town of Fairford, +the regular turnpike road to which lay through Cirencester; but I had +from a fine map, at Sir Thomas Winnington’s, traced out a line for us +along through a chain of villages, leaving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> Cirencester away to our +right, and never coming nearer than seven or eight miles to it. We came +through Dodeswell, Withington, Chedworth, Winston, and the two Colnes. +At Dodeswell we came up a long and steep hill, which brought us out of +the great vale of Gloucester and up upon the Cotswold Hills, which name +is tautological, I believe; for I think that <i>wold</i> meaned <i>high lands +of great extent</i>. Such is the Cotswold, at any rate, for it is a tract +of country stretching across, in a south-easterly direction from +Dodeswell to near Fairford, and in a north-easterly direction, from +Pitchcomb Hill, in Gloucestershire (which, remember, I descended on the +12th September) to near Witney in Oxfordshire. Here we were, then, when +we got fairly up upon the Wold, with the vale of Gloucester at our back, +Oxford and its vale to our left, the vale of Wiltshire to our right, and +the vale of Berkshire in our front: and from one particular point, I +could see a part of each of them. This Wold is, in itself, an ugly +country. The soil is what is called a <i>stone brash</i> below, with a +reddish earth mixed with little bits of this brash at top, and, for the +greater part of the Wold, even this soil is very shallow; and as fields +are divided by walls made of this brash, and as there are, for a mile or +two together, no trees to be seen, and as the surface is not smooth and +green like the downs, this is a sort of country, having less to please +the eye than any other that I have ever seen, always save and except the +<i>heaths</i> like those of Bagshot and Hindhead. Yet, even this Wold has +many fertile dells in it, and sends out, from its highest parts, several +streams, each of which has its pretty valley and its meadows. And here +has come down to us, from a distance of many centuries, a particular +race of sheep, called the <i>Cotswold</i> breed, which are, of course, the +best suited to the country. They are short and stocky, and appear to me +to be about half way, in point of size, between the Rylands and the +South Downs. When crossed with the Leicester, as they are pretty +generally in the North of Wiltshire, they make very beautiful and even +large sheep; quite large enough, and, people say, very profitable.</p> + +<p>A <i>route</i>, when it lies through <i>villages</i>, is one thing on a <i>map</i>, and +quite another thing on the ground. Our line of villages, from Cheltenham +to Fairford was very nearly straight upon the map; but, upon the ground, +it took us round about a great many miles, besides now and then a little +going back, to get into the right road; and, which was a great +inconvenience, not a public-house was there on our road, until we got +within eight miles of Fairford. Resolved that not one single farthing of +my money should be spent in the Wen of Cheltenham, we came through that +place, expecting to find a public-house in the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> or second of the +villages; but not one was there, over the whole of the Wold; and though +I had, by pocketing some slices of meat and bread at Ryall, provided +against this contingency, as far as related to ourselves, I could make +no such provision for our horses, and they went a great deal too far +without baiting. Plenty of farm-houses, and, if they had been in +America, we need have looked for no other. Very likely (I hope it at any +rate) almost any farmer on the Cotswold would have given us what we +wanted, if we had asked for it; but the fashion, the good old fashion, +was, by the hellish system of funding and taxing and monopolizing, +driven across the Atlantic. And is England <i>never</i> to see it return! Is +the hellish system to last <i>for ever</i>!</p> + +<p>Doctor Black, in remarking upon my Ride down the vale of the Salisbury +Avon, says, that there has, doubtless, been a falling off in the +population of the villages, “lying amongst the chalk-hills;” aye, and +lying everywhere else too; or, how comes it, that four-fifths of the +parishes of Herefordshire, abounding in rich land, in meadows, orchards, +and pastures, have either no parsonage-houses at all, or have none that +a Parson thinks fit for him to live in? I vouch for the fact; I will, +whether in Parliament or not, prove the fact to the Parliament: and, if +the fact be such, the conclusion is inevitable. But how melancholy is +the sight of these decayed and still decaying villages in the dells of +the Cotswold, where the building materials, being stone, the ruins do +not totally disappear for ages! The village of Withington (mentioned +above) has a church like a small cathedral, and the whole of the +population is now only 603 persons, men, women, and children! So that, +according to the Scotch fellows, this immense and fine church, which is +as sound as it was 7 or 800 years ago, was built by and for a +population, containing, at most, only about 120 grown up and +able-abodied men! But here, in this once populous village, or I think +town, you see <i>all</i> the indubitable marks of most melancholy decay. +There are several lanes, crossing each other, which <i>must</i> have been +<i>streets</i> formerly. There is a large open space where the principal +streets meet. There are, against this open place, two large, old, roomy +houses, with gateways into back parts of them, and with large stone +<i>upping-blocks</i> against the walls of them in the street. These were +manifestly considerable <i>inns</i>, and, in this open place, markets or +fairs, or both used to be held. I asked two men, who were threshing in a +barn, how long it was since their public-house was put down, or dropped? +They told me about sixteen years. One of these men, who was about fifty +years of age, could remember <i>three</i> public-houses, one of which was +what was called an <i>inn</i>! The place stands by the side of a little +brook, which here rises, or rather issues, from a high hill,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> and which, +when it has winded down for some miles, and through several villages, +begins to be called the River Colne, and continues on, under this name, +through Fairford and along, I suppose, till it falls into the Thames. +Withington is very prettily situated; it was, and not very long ago, a +gay and nappy place; but it now presents a picture of dilapidation and +shabbiness scarcely to be equalled. Here are the yet visible remains of +two gentlemen’s houses. Great farmers have supplied their place, as to +inhabiting; and, I dare say, that some tax-eater, or some blaspheming +Jew, or some still more base and wicked loan-mongering robber is now the +owner of the land; aye, and all these people are his <i>slaves</i> as +completely, and more to their wrong, than the blacks are the slaves of +the planters in Jamaica, the farmers here, acting, in fact, in a +capacity corresponding with that of the negro-drivers there.</p> + +<p>A part, and, perhaps, a considerable part, of the decay and misery of +this place, is owing to the use of <i>machinery</i>, and to the +<i>monopolizing</i>, in the manufacture of Blankets, of which fabric the town +of Witney (above mentioned) was the centre, and from which town the wool +used to be sent round to, and the yarn, or warp, come back from, all +these Cotswold villages, and quite into a part of Wiltshire. This work +is all now gone, and so the women and the girls are a “surplus +<i>popalashon, mon</i>,” and are, of course, to be dealt with by the +“Emigration Committee” of the “Collective Wisdom”! There were, only a +few years ago, above thirty blanket-manufacturers at Witney: twenty-five +of these have been swallowed up by the five that now have all the +manufacture in their hands! And all this has been done by that system of +gambling and of fictitious money, which has conveyed property from the +hands of the many into the hands of the few. But wise Burdett <i>likes</i> +this! He wants the land to be cultivated by few hands, and he wants +machinery, and all those things, which draw money into <i>large masses</i>; +that make a nation consist of a few of very rich and of millions of very +poor! Burdett must look sharp; or this system will play him a trick +before it come to an end.</p> + +<p>The crops on the Cotswold have been pretty good; and I was very much +surprised to see a scattering of early turnips, and, in some places, +decent crops. Upon this Wold I saw more early turnips in a mile or two, +than I saw in all Herefordshire and Worcestershire and in all the rich +and low part of Gloucestershire. The high lands always, during the year, +and especially during the summer, receive much more of rain than the low +lands. The clouds hang about the hills, and the dews, when they rise, +go, most frequently, and cap the hills.</p> + +<p>Wheat-sowing is yet going on on the Wold; but the greater<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> part of it is +sown, and not only sown, but up, and in some places, high enough to +“hide a hare.” What a difference! In some parts of England, no man +thinks of sowing wheat till November, and it is often done in March. If +the latter were done on this Wold there would not be a bushel on an +acre. The ploughing and other work, on the Wold, is done, in great part, +by oxen, and here are some of the finest ox-teams that I ever saw.</p> + +<p>All the villages down to Fairford are pretty much in the same dismal +condition as that of Withington. Fairford, which is quite on the border +of Gloucestershire, is a very pretty little market-town, and has one of +the prettiest churches in the kingdom. It was, they say, built in the +reign of Henry VII.; and one is naturally surprised to see, that its +windows of beautiful stained glass had the luck to escape, not only the +fangs of the ferocious “good Queen Bess;” not only the unsparing +plundering minions of James I.; but even the devastating ruffians of +Cromwell.</p> + +<p>We got in here about four o’clock, and at the house of Mr. Iles, where +we slept, passed, amongst several friends, a very pleasant evening. This +morning, Mr. Iles was so good as to ride with us as far as the house of +another friend at Kempsford, which is the last Gloucestershire parish in +our route. At this friend’s, Mr. Arkall, we saw a fine dairy of about 60 +or 80 cows, and a cheese loft with, perhaps, more than two thousand +cheeses in it; at least there were many hundreds. This village contains +what are said to be the remnants and ruins of a mansion of John of +Gaunt. The church is very ancient and very capacious. What tales these +churches do tell upon us! What fools, what lazy dogs, what presumptuous +asses, what lying braggarts, they make us appear! No people here, “<i>mon, +teel the Scots cam to seevelize</i>” us! Impudent, lying beggars! Their +stinking “<i>kelts</i>” ought to be taken up, and the brazen and insolent +vagabonds whipped back to their heaths and their rocks. Let them go and +thrive by their “cash-credits,” and let their paper-money poet, Walter +Scott, immortalize their deeds. That conceited, dunderheaded fellow, +George Chalmers, <i>estimated</i> the whole of the population of England and +Wales at a few persons more than <i>two millions</i>, when England was just +at the highest point of her power and glory, and when all these churches +had long been built and were resounding with the voice of priests, who +resided in their parishes, and who relieved all the poor out of their +tithes! But this same Chalmers signed his <i>solemn conviction</i>, that +Vortigern and the other Ireland-manuscripts, which were written by a lad +of sixteen, were written by <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>.</p> + +<p>In coming to Kempsford we got wet, and nearly to the skin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> But our +friends gave us coats to put on, while ours were dried, and while we ate +our breakfast. In our way to this house, where we now are, Mr. Tucky’s, +at Heydon, we called at Mr. James Crowdy’s, at Highworth, where I was +from the 4th to the 9th of September inclusive; but it looked rainy, +and, therefore, we did not alight. We got wet again before we reached +this place; but, our journey being short, we soon got our clothes dry +again.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere (Hampshire),<br />Monday, 2nd October.</i></p> + +<p>Yesterday was a really <i>unfortunate day</i>. The morning promised fair; but +its promises were like those of Burdett! There was a little snivelling, +wet, treacherous frost. We had to come through Swindon, and Mr. Tucky +had the kindness to come with us, until we got three or four miles on +this side (the Hungerford side) of that very neat and plain and solid +and respectable market town. Swindon is in Wiltshire, and is in the real +fat of the land, all being wheat, beans, cheese, or fat meat. In our way +to Swindon, Mr. Tucky’s farm exhibited to me what I never saw before, +four score oxen, all grazing upon one farm, and all nearly fat! They +were, some Devonshire and some Herefordshire. They were fatting on the +grass only; and, I should suppose, that they are worth, or shortly will +be, thirty pounds each. But the great pleasure, with which the +contemplation of this fine sight was naturally calculated to inspire me, +was more than counterbalanced by the thought, that these fine oxen, this +primest of human food, was, aye, every mouthful of it, destined to be +devoured in the Wen, and that, too, for the far greater part, by the +Jews, loan-jobbers, tax-eaters, and their base and prostituted +followers, dependents, purveyors, parasites and pimps, literary as well +as other wretches, who, if suffered to live at all, ought to partake of +nothing but the offal, and ought to come but one cut before the dogs and +cats!</p> + +<p>Mind you, there is, in my opinion, no land in England that surpasses +this. There is, I suppose, as good in the three last counties that I +have come through; but <i>better</i> than this is, I should think, +impossible. There is a pasture-field, of about a hundred acres, close to +Swindon, belonging to a Mr. Goddard, which, with its cattle and sheep, +was a most beautiful sight. But everything is full of riches; and, as +fast as skill and care and industry can extract these riches from the +land, the unseen grasp of taxation, loan-jobbing and monopolizing takes +them away, leaving the labourers not half a belly-full, compelling the +farmer to pinch them or to be ruined himself, and making even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> the +landowner little better than a steward, or bailiff, for the tax-eaters, +Jews and jobbers!</p> + +<p>Just before we got to Swindon, we crossed a canal at a place where there +is a wharf and a coal-yard, and close by these a gentleman’s house, with +coach-house, stables, walled-in-garden, paddock <i>orné</i>, and the rest of +those things, which, all together, make up <i>a villa</i>, surpassing the +second and approaching towards the first class. Seeing a man in the +coal-yard, I asked him to what gentleman the house belonged: “to the +<i>head un</i> o’ the canal,” said he. And, when, upon further inquiry of +him, I found that it was the villa of the chief manager, I could not +help congratulating the proprietors of this aquatic concern; for, though +I did not ask the name of the canal, I could readily suppose, that the +profits must be prodigious, when the residence of the manager would +imply no disparagement of dignity, if occupied by a Secretary of State +for the Home, or even for the Foreign, department. I mean an <i>English</i> +Secretary of State; for, as to an <i>American</i> one, his salary would be +wholly inadequate to a residence in a mansion like this.</p> + +<p>From Swindon we came up into the <i>down-country</i>; and these downs rise +higher even than the Cotswold. We left Marlborough away to our right, +and came along the turnpike road towards Hungerford, but with a view of +leaving that town to our left, further on, and going away, through +Ramsbury, towards the northernmost Hampshire hills, under which +Burghclere (where we now are) lies. We passed some fine farms upon these +downs, the houses and homesteads of which were near the road. My +companion, though he had been to London, and even to France, had never +seen <i>downs</i> before; and it was amusing to me to witness his surprise at +seeing the immense flocks of sheep, which were now (ten o’clock) just +going out from their several folds to the downs for the day, each having +its shepherd, and each shepherd his dog. We passed the homestead of a +farmer Woodman, with <i>sixteen</i> banging wheat-ricks in the rick-yard, two +of which were old ones; and rick-yard, farm-yard, waste-yard, +horse-paddock, and all round about, seemed to be swarming with fowls, +ducks, and turkeys, and on the whole of them not one feather but what +was white! Turning our eyes from this sight, we saw, just going out from +the folds of this same farm, three separate and numerous flocks of +sheep, one of which (the <i>lamb</i>-flock) we passed close by the side of. +The shepherd told us, that his flock consisted of thirteen score and +five; but, apparently, he could not, if it had been to save his soul, +tell us how many hundreds he had: and, if you reflect a little, you will +find, that his way of counting is much the easiest and best. This was a +most beautiful flock of lambs;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> short legged, and, in every respect, +what they ought to be. George, though born and bred amongst sheep-farms, +had never before seen sheep with dark-coloured faces and legs; but his +surprise, at this sight, was not nearly so great as the surprise of both +of us, at seeing numerous and very large pieces (sometimes 50 acres +together) of very good early turnips, Swedish as well as White! All the +three counties of Worcester, Hereford and Gloucester (except on the +Cotswold) do not, I am convinced, contain as great a weight of turnip +bulbs, as we here saw in one single <i>piece</i>; for here there are, for +miles and miles, no hedges, and no fences of any sort.</p> + +<p>Doubtless they must have had <i>rain</i> here in the months of June and July; +but, as I once before observed (though I forget <i>when</i>) a chalk bottom +does not suffer the surface to burn, however shallow the top soil may +be. It seems to me to absorb and to <i>retain</i> the water, and to keep it +ready to be drawn up by the heat of the sun. At any rate the fact is, +that the surface above it does not burn; for there never yet was a +summer, not even this last, when the downs did not <i>retain their +greenness to a certain degree</i>, while the rich pastures, and even the +meadows (except actually <i>watered</i>) were burnt so as to be as brown as +the bare earth.</p> + +<p>This is a most pleasing circumstance attending the down-countries; and +there are no <i>downs</i> without a chalk bottom.</p> + +<p>Along here, the country is rather <i>too bare</i>: here, until you come to +Auborne, or Aldbourne, there are <i>no meadows</i> in the valleys, and no +trees, even round the homesteads. This, therefore, is too naked to +please me; but I love <i>the downs</i> so much, that, if I had to choose, I +would live even here, and especially I would <i>farm</i> here, rather than on +the banks of the Wye in Herefordshire, in the vale of Gloucester, of +Worcester, or of Evesham, or, even in what the Kentish men call their +“garden of Eden.” I have now seen (for I have, years back, seen the +vales of Taunton, Glastonbury, Honiton, Dorchester and Sherburne) what +are deemed the richest and most beautiful parts of England; and, if +called upon to name the spot, which I deem the brightest and most +beautiful and, of its extent, <i>best</i> of all, I should say, the villages +of <i>North Bovant and Bishopstrow</i>, between Heytesbury and Warminster in +Wiltshire; for there is, as appertaining to rural objects, <i>everything</i> +that I delight in. Smooth and verdant downs in hills and valleys of +endless variety as to height and depth and shape; rich corn-land, +unencumbered by fences; meadows in due proportion, and those watered at +pleasure; and, lastly, the homesteads, and villages, sheltered in winter +and shaded in summer by lofty and beautiful trees; to which may be +added, roads never dirty and a stream never dry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span>When we came to Auborne, we got amongst trees again. This is a <i>town</i>, +and was, manifestly, once a large town. Its church is as big as three of +that of Kensington. It has a market now, I believe; but, I suppose, it +is, like many others, become merely nominal, the produce being nearly +all carried to Hungerford, in order to be forwarded to the Jew-devils +and the tax-eaters and monopolizers in the Wen, and in small Wens on the +way. It is a <i>decaying place</i>; and, I dare say, that it would be nearly +depopulated, in twenty years’ time, if this hellish jobbing system were +to last so long.</p> + +<p>A little after we came through Auborne, we turned off to our right to go +through Ramsbury to Shallburn, where Tull, the father of the +drill-husbandry, began and practised that husbandry at a farm called +“Prosperous.” Our object was to reach this place (Burghclere) to sleep, +and to stay for a day or two; and, as I knew Mr. Blandy of Prosperous, I +determined upon this route, which, besides, took us out of the +turnpike-road. We stopped at Ramsbury, to bait our horses. It is a +large, and, apparently, miserable village, or “town” as the people call +it. It was in remote times a <i>Bishop’s See</i>. Its church is very large +and very ancient. Parts of it were evidently built long and long before +the Norman Conquest. Burdett owns a great many of the houses in the +village (which contains nearly two thousand people), and will, if he +live many years, own nearly the whole; for, as his eulogist, William +Friend, the Actuary, told the public, in a pamphlet, in 1817, he has +resolved, that his numerous <i>life-holds shall run out</i>, and that those +who were life-holders under his Aunt, from whom he got the estate, shall +become <i>rack-renters to him</i>, or quit the occupations. Besides this, he +is continually purchasing lands and houses round about and in this +place. He has now let his house to a Mr. Acres; and, as the <i>Morning +Herald</i> says, is safe landed at Bordeaux, with his family, for the +winter! When here, he did not occupy a square inch of his land! He let +it all, park and all; and only reserved “a right of road” from the +highway to his door. “He had and has <i>a right</i> to do all this.” A +<i>right</i>? Who denies that? But is this giving us a specimen of that +“liberality and generosity and hospitality” of those “English Country +Gentlemen,” whose praises he so loudly sang last winter? His name is +Francis Burdett <i>Jones</i>, which last name he was obliged to take by his +Aunt’s will; and he actually used it for some time after the estate came +to him! “Jones” was too common a name for him, I suppose! Sounded too +much of the <i>vulgar</i>!</p> + +<p>However, what I have principally to do with, is, his <i>absence from the +country</i> at a time like this, and, if the newspapers be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> correct, his +intended absence during the whole of next winter; and such a winter, +too, as it is likely to be! He, for many years, complained, and justly, +of the <i>sinecure placemen</i>; and, are we to suffer him to be, thus, a +sinecure Member of Parliament! This is, in my opinion, a great deal +worse than a sinecure placeman; for this is shutting an active Member +out. It is a dog-in-manger offence; and, to the people of a place such +as Westminster, it is not only an injury, but a most outrageous insult. +If it be true, that he intends to stay away, during the coming session +of Parliament, I trust, not only, that he never will be elected again; +but, that the people of Westminster will call upon him to resign; and +this, I am sure they will do too. The next session of Parliament <i>must</i> +be a most important one, and that he knows well. Every member will be +put to the test in the next session of Parliament. On the question of +Corn-Bills every man must declare, for, or against, the people. He would +declare against, if he dared; and, therefore, he gets out of the way! +Or, this is what we shall have a clear right to presume, if he be absent +from the next session of Parliament. He knows, that there must be +something like a struggle between the land-owners and the fund-holders. +His interest lies with the former; he wishes to support the law-church +and the army and all sources of aristocratical profit; but, he knows, +that the people of Westminster would be on the other side. It is better, +therefore, to hear at Bordeaux, about this struggle, than to be engaged +in it! He must know of the great embarrassment, distress, and of the +great bodily suffering, now experienced by a large part of the people; +and has he <i>a right</i>, after having got himself returned a member for +such a place as Westminster, to go out of the country, at such a time +and leave his seat vacant? He must know that, during the ensuing winter, +there <i>must</i> be great distress in Westminster itself; for there will be +a greater mass of the working people out of employ than there ever was +in any winter before; and this calamity will, too, be owing to that +infernal system, which he has been supporting, to those paper-money +Rooks, with whom he is closely connected, and the existence of whose +destructive rags he expressed his wish to prolong: he knows all this +very well: he knows that, in every quarter the distress and danger are +great; and is it not, then, his duty to be here? Is he, who, at his own +request, has been intrusted with the representing of a great city to get +out of the way at a time like this, and under circumstances like these? +If this be so, then is this great, and <i>once</i> public-spirited city, +become more contemptible, and infinitely more mischievous, than the +“accursed hill” of Wiltshire: but this is <i>not so</i>; the <i>people</i> of +Westminster are what they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> always were, full of good sense and public +spirit: they have been cheated by a set of bribed intriguers; and <i>how</i> +this has been done, I will explain to them, when I <i>punish</i> Sir Francis +Burdett Jones for the sins, <i>committed for him</i>, by a hired Scotch +writer. I shall dismiss him, for the present, with observing, that, if I +had in me a millionth part of that malignity and vindictiveness, which +he so basely showed towards me, I have learned anecdotes sufficient to +enable me to take ample vengeance on him for the stabs which he, in +1817, knew, that he was sending to the hearts of the defenceless part of +my family!</p> + +<p>While our horses were baiting at Ramsbury, it began to rain, and by the +time that they had done, it rained pretty hard, with every appearance of +continuing to rain for the day; and it was now about eleven o’clock, we +having 18 or 19 miles to go before we got to the intended end of our +journey. Having, however, for several reasons, a very great desire to +get to Burghclere that night, we set off in the rain; and, as we carry +no great coats, we were wet to the skin pretty soon. Immediately upon +quitting Ramsbury, we crossed the River Kennet, and, mounting a highish +hill, we looked back over friend Sir Glory’s park, the sight of which +brought into my mind the visit of Thimble and Cowhide, as described in +the “intense comedy,” and, when I thought of the “baker’s being starved +to death,” and of the “heavy fall of snow,” I could not help bursting +out a laughing, though it poured of rain and though I already felt the +water on my skin.—<span class="smcap">Mem.</span> To ask, when I get to London, what is become of +the intense “Counsellor Bric;” and whether he have yet had the justice +to put the K to the end of his name. I saw a lovely female shoy-hoy, +engaged in keeping the rooks from a newly-sown wheat field on the +Cotswold Hills, that would be a very <i>suitable match</i> for him; and, as +his manners appear to be mended; as he now praises to the skies those +40<i>s.</i> freeholders, whom, in my hearing, he asserted to be “<i>beneath +brute beasts</i>;” as he does, in short, appear to be rather less offensive +than he was, I should have no objection to promote the union; and, I am +sure, <i>the farmer</i> would like it of all things; for, if Miss <i>Stuffed o’ +straw</i> can, when <i>single</i>, keep the devourers at a distance, say, you +who know him, whether the sight of the <i>husband’s head</i> would leave a +rook in the country!</p> + +<p>Turning from viewing the scene of Thimble and Cowhide’s cruel +disappointment, we pushed through coppices and across fields, to a +little village, called Froxfield, which we found to be on the great +Bath-Road. Here, crossing the road and also a run of water, we, under +the guidance of a man, who was good enough to go about a mile with us, +and to whom we gave a shilling and the price of a pot of beer, mounted +another hill,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> from which, after twisting about for awhile, I saw, and +recognised the out-buildings of Prosperous farm, towards which we pushed +on as fast as we could, in order to keep ourselves in motion so as to +prevent our catching cold; for it rained, and incessantly, every step of +the way. I had been at Prosperous before; so that I knew Mr. Blandy, the +owner, and his family, who received us with great hospitality. They took +care of our horses, gave us what we wanted in the eating and drinking +way, and clothed us, shirts and all, while they dried all our clothes; +for not only the things on our bodies were soaked, but those also which +we carried in little thin leather rolls, fastened on upon the saddles +before us. Notwithstanding all that could be done in the way of +dispatch, it took more than three hours to get our clothes dry. At last, +about three quarters of an hour before sunset, we got on our clothes +again and set off: for, as an instance of real bad luck, it ceased to +rain the moment we got to Mr. Blandy’s. Including the numerous angles +and windings, we had nine or ten miles yet to go; but I was so anxious +to get to Burghclere, that, contrary to my practice as well as my +principle, I determined to encounter the darkness for once, though in +cross-country roads, presenting us, at every mile, with ways crossing +each other; or forming a Y; or kindly giving us the choice of three, +forming the upper part of a Y and a half. Add to this, that we were in +an enclosed country, the lanes very narrow, deep-worn, and banks and +hedges high. There was no moon; but it was starlight, and, as I could +see the Hampshire Hills all along to my right, and knew that I must not +get above a mile or so from them, I had a guide that could not deceive +me; for, as to <i>asking</i> the road, in a case like this, it is of little +use, unless you meet some one at every half mile: for the answer is, +<i>keep right on</i>; aye, but in ten minutes, perhaps, you come to a Y, or +to a T, or to a +.</p> + +<p>A fellow told me once, in my way from Chertsey to Guildford, “Keep +<i>right on</i>, you can’t miss your way.” I was in the perpendicular part of +the T, and the top part was only a few yards from me. “<i>Right on</i>,” said +I, “what over <i>that bank</i> into the wheat?” “No, no,” said he, “I mean +<i>that road</i>, to be sure,” pointing to the road that went off to the +<i>left</i>. In <i>down-countries</i>, the direction of shepherds and pig and bird +boys is always in precisely the same words; namely, “<i>right</i> over the +down,” laying great stress upon the word <i>right</i>. “But,” said I, to a +boy, at the edge of the down at King’s Worthy (near Winchester), who +gave me this direction to Stoke Charity; “but, what do you mean by +<i>right</i> over the down?” “Why,” said he, “<i>right</i> on to Stoke, to be +sure, Zur.” “Aye,” said I, “but how am I, who was never here before, to +know <i>what is</i> right, my boy?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> That posed him. It set him to thinking: +and after a bit he proceeded to tell me, that, when I got up the hill, I +should see <i>some trees</i>; that I should go along by them; that I should +then see <i>a barn</i> right before me; that I should go down to that barn; +and that I should then see a <i>wagon track</i> that would lead me all down +to Stoke. “Aye!” said I, “<i>now</i> indeed you are a real clever fellow.” +And I gave him a shilling, being part of my savings of the morning. +Whoever tries it will find, that the <i>less they eat and drink</i>, when +travelling, the better they will be. I act accordingly. Many days I have +no breakfast and no dinner. I went from Devizes to Highworth without +breaking my fast, a distance, including my deviations, of more than +<i>thirty miles</i>. I sometimes take, from a friend’s house, a little bit of +meat between two bits of bread, which I eat as I ride along; but +whatever I save from this fasting work, I think I have a clear right to +give away; and, accordingly, I generally put the amount, in copper, into +my waistcoat pocket, and dispose of it during the day. I know well, +<i>that I am the better</i> for not stuffing and blowing myself out, and with +the savings I make many and many a happy boy; and, now-and-then, I give +a whole family a good meal with the cost of a breakfast, or a dinner, +that would have done me mischief. I do not do this because I grudge +inn-keepers what they charge; for my surprise is, how they can live +without charging <i>more</i> than they do in general.</p> + +<p>It was dark by the time that we got to a village, called East Woodhay. +Sunday evening is the time <i>for courting</i>, in the country. It is not +convenient to carry this on before faces, and, at farmhouses and +cottages, there are no spare apartments; so that the pairs turn out, and +pitch up, to carry on their negociations, by the side of stile or a +gate. The evening was auspicious; it was <i>pretty dark</i>, the <i>weather +mild</i>, and <i>Old Michaelmas</i> (when yearly services end) was fast +approaching; and, accordingly, I do not recollect ever having before +seen so many negociations going on, within so short a distance. At West +Woodhay my horse <i>cast a shoe</i>, and, as the road was abominably flinty, +we were compelled to go at a snail’s pace: and I should have gone crazy +with impatience, had it not been for these ambassadors and +ambassadresses of Cupid, to every pair of whom I said something or +other. I began by asking the fellow <i>my road</i>; and, from the tone and +manner of his answer, I could tell pretty nearly what prospect he had of +success, and knew what to say to draw something from him. I had some +famous sport with them, saying to them more than I should have said by +daylight, and a great deal less than I should have said, if my horse had +been in a condition to carry me away as swiftly as he did from Osmond +Ricardo’s terrific cross! “There!” exclaims Mrs. Scrip, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> +stock-jobber’s young wife, to her old hobbling wittol of a spouse, “You +see, my love, that this mischievous man could not let even these poor +<i>peasants</i> alone.” “<i>Peasants!</i> you dirty-necked devil, and where got +you that word? You, who, but a few years ago, came, perhaps, up from the +country in a wagon; who <i>made</i> the bed you now <i>sleep</i> in; and who got +the husband by helping him to get his wife out of the world, as some +young party-coloured blade is to get you and the old rogue’s money by a +similar process!”</p> + +<p>We got to Burghclere about eight o’clock, after a very disagreeable day; +but we found ample compensation in the house, and all within it, that we +were now arrived at.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Burghclere,<br />Sunday, 8th Sept.</i></p> + +<p>It rained steadily this morning, or else, at the end of these six days +of hunting for George, and two for me, we should have set off. The rain +gives me time to give an account of Mr. Budd’s crop of Tullian Wheat. It +was sown in rows and on ridges, with very wide intervals, ploughed all +summer. If he reckon that ground only which the wheat grew upon, he had +one hundred and thirty bushels to the acre; and even if he reckoned the +whole of the ground, he had 28 bushels all but two gallons to the acre! +But the best wheat he grew this year was dibbled in between rows of +Swedish Turnips, in November, four rows upon a ridge, with an +eighteen-inch interval between each two rows, and a five-feet interval +between the outside rows on each ridge. It is the white cone that Mr. +Budd sows. He had ears with 130 grains in each. This would be the +farming for labourers in their little plots. They might grow thirty +bushels of wheat to the acre, and have crops of cabbages, in the +intervals, at the same time; or, of potatoes, if they liked them better.</p> + +<p>Before my arrival here, Mr. Budd had seen my description of the state of +the labourers in Wiltshire, and had, in consequence, written to my son +James (not knowing where I was) as follows: “In order to see how the +labourers are now <i>screwed down</i>, look at the following facts: Arthur +Young, in 1771 (55 years ago) allowed for a man, his wife and three +children 13<i>s.</i> 1<i>d.</i> a week, according to present money-prices. By the +Berkshire Magistrates’ table, made in 1795, the allowance was, for such +family, according to the present money-prices, 11<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> Now it is, +according to the same standard, 8<i>s.</i> According to your father’s +proposal, the sum would be (supposing there to be no malt tax) 18<i>s.</i> a +week; and little enough too.” Is not that enough to convince any one of +the hellishness of this system? Yet Sir Glory applauds it. Is it not +horrible to contemplate millions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> in this half-starving state; and, is +it not the duty of “England’s Glory,” who has said that his estate is +“<i>a retaining fee</i> for defending the rights of the people;” is it not +his duty to stay in England and endeavour to restore the people, the +millions, to what their fathers were, instead of going abroad; selling +off his carriage horses, and going abroad, there to spend some part, at +least, of the fruits of English labour? I do not say, that he has <i>no +right</i>, generally speaking, to go and spend his money abroad; but, I do +say, that having got himself elected for such a city as Westminster, he +had no right, at a time like this, to be absent from Parliament. +However, what cares he? His “retaining fee” indeed! He takes special +care to augment that fee; but I challenge all his shoe-lickers, all the +base worshippers of twenty thousand acres, to show me one single thing +that he has ever done, or, within the last twelve years, attempted to +do, for his <i>clients</i>. In short, this is a man that must now be brought +to book; he must not be suffered to insult Westminster any longer: he +must turn-to or turn out: he is a sore to Westminster; a set-fast on its +back; a cholic in its belly; a cramp in its limbs; a gag in its mouth: +he is a nuisance, a monstrous nuisance, in Westminster, and he must be +abated.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RIDE, FROM BURGHCLERE TO LYNDHURST, IN THE NEW FOREST.</h3> + +<p class="blockquot">“The Reformers have yet many and powerful foes; we have to contend +against a host, such as never existed before in the world. Nine-tenths +of the press; all the channels of speedy communication of sentiment; all +the pulpits; all the associations of rich people; all the taxing-people; +all the military and naval establishments; all the yeomanry cavalry +tribes. Your allies are endless in number and mighty in influence. But, +we have <i>one ally</i> worth the whole of them put together, namely, the +DEBT! This is an ally, whom no honours or rewards can seduce from us. +She is a steady, unrelaxing, persevering, incorruptible ally. An ally +that is proof against all blandishments, all intrigues, all temptations, +and all open attacks. She sets at defiance all ‘<i>military</i>,’ all +‘<i>yeomanry cavalry</i>.’ They may as well fire at a ghost. She cares no +more for the sabres of the yeomanry or the Life Guards than Milton’s +angels did for the swords of Satan’s myrmidons. This ally cares not a +straw about <i>spies</i> and <i>informers</i>. She laughs at the employment of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> +<i>secret-service money</i>. She is always erect, day and night, and is +always firmly moving on in our cause, in spite of all the terrors of +gaols, dungeons, halters and axes. Therefore, Mr. <span class="smcap">Jabet</span>, be not so pert. +The combat is not so unequal as you seem to imagine; and, confident and +insolent as you now are, the day of your humiliation may not be far +distant.”—<span class="smcap">Letter to Mr. Jabet</span>, of Birmingham, <i>Register</i>, v. 31, p. +477. (Nov. 1816.)</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Hurstbourn Tarrant<br />(commonly called Uphusband),<br />Wednesday, 11th October, 1826.</i></p> + +<p>When quarters are good, you are apt to <i>lurk</i> in them; but, really it +was so wet, that we could not get away from Burghclere till Monday +evening. Being here, there were many reasons for our going to the great +fair at Weyhill, which began yesterday, and, indeed, the day before, at +Appleshaw. These two days are allotted for the selling of sheep only, +though the horse-fair begins on the 10th. To Appleshaw they bring +nothing but those fine curled-horned and long-tailed ewes, which bring +the house-lambs and the early Easter-lambs; and these, which, to my +taste, are the finest and most beautiful animals of the sheep kind, come +exclusively out of Dorsetshire and out of the part of Somersetshire +bordering on that county.</p> + +<p>To Weyhill, which is a village of half a dozen houses on a down, just +above Appleshaw, they bring from the down-farms in Wiltshire and +Hampshire, where they are bred, the Southdown sheep; ewes to go away +into the pasture and turnip countries to have lambs, wethers to be +fatted and killed, and lambs (nine months old) to be kept to be sheep. +At both fairs there is supposed to be about two hundred thousand sheep. +It was of some consequence to ascertain how the <i>price</i> of these had +been affected by “<i>late</i> panic,” which ended the “respite” of 1822; or +by the “plethora of money” as loan-man Baring called it. I can assure +this political Doctor, that there was no such “plethora” at Weyhill, +yesterday, where, while I viewed the long faces of the farmers, while I +saw consciousness of ruin painted on their countenances, I could not +help saying to myself, “the loan-mongers think they are <i>cunning</i>; but, +by ——, they will never escape the ultimate consequences of this +horrible ruin!” The prices, take them on a fair average, were, at both +fairs, just about one-half what they were last year. So that my friend +Mr. Thwaites of the <i>Herald</i>, who had a lying Irish reporter at Preston, +was rather hasty, about three months ago, when he told his +<i>well-informed</i> readers, that, “those politicians were deceived, who had +supposed that prices of farm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> produce would fall in consequence of +‘<i>late</i> panic’ and the subsequent measures”! There were Dorsetshire ewes +that sold last year, for 50<i>s.</i> a head. We could hear of none this year +that exceeded 25<i>s.</i> And only think of 25<i>s.</i> for one of these fine, +large ewes, nearly fit to kill, and having two lambs in her, ready to be +brought forth in, on an average, six weeks’ time! The average is <i>three +lambs</i> to <i>two of these ewes</i>. In 1812 these ewes were from 55<i>s.</i> to +72<i>s.</i> each, at this same Appleshaw fair; and in that year I bought +South-down ewes at 45<i>s.</i> each, just such as were, yesterday, sold for +18<i>s.</i> Yet the sheep and grass and all things are the same in <i>real +value</i>. What a false, what a deceptious, what an infamous thing, this +paper-money system is!</p> + +<p>However, it is a pleasure, it is real, it is great delight, it is +boundless joy to me, to contemplate this infernal system in its hour of +<i>wreck</i>: swag here: crack there: scroop this way: souse that way: and +such a rattling and such a squalling: and the parsons and their wives +looking so frightened, beginning, apparently, to think that the day of +<i>judgment</i> is at hand! I wonder what master parson of Sharncut, whose +church <i>can</i> contain <i>eight persons</i>, and master parson of Draycot +Foliot, who is, for want of a church, inducted under a <i>tent</i>, or +temporary <i>booth</i>; I wonder what they think of South-down lambs (9 +months old) selling for 6 or 7 shillings each! I wonder what the Barings +and the Ricardos think of it. I wonder what those master parsons think +of it, who are half-pay naval, or military officers, as well as master +parsons of the church made by <i>law</i>. I wonder what the Gaffer Gooches, +with their parsonships and military offices, think of it. I wonder what +Daddy Coke and Suffield think of it; and when, I wonder, do they mean to +get into their holes and barns again to cry aloud against the “roguery +of reducing the interest of the Debt”; when, I wonder, do these manly, +these modest, these fair, these candid, these open, and, above all +things, these <i>sensible</i>, fellows intend to assemble again, and to call +all “the House of Quidenham” and the “House of Kilmainham,” or +<i>Kinsaleham</i>, or whatever it is (for I really have forgotten); to call, +I say, all these about them, in the holes and the barns, and then and +there again make a formal and solemn protest against <span class="smcap">Cobbett</span> and against +his roguish proposition for reducing the interest of the Debt! Now, I +have these fellows on the hip; and brave sport will I have with them +before I have done.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blount, at whose house (7 miles from Weyhill) I am, went with me to +the fair; and we took particular pains to ascertain the prices. We saw, +and spoke to, Mr. John Herbert, of Stoke (near Uphusband) who was +<i>asking</i> 20<i>s.</i>, and who did not expect to <i>get</i> it, for South-down +ewes, just such as he <i>sold</i>, last year (at this fair), for 36<i>s.</i> Mr. +Jolliff, of Crux-Easton, was <i>asking</i> 16<i>s.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> for just such ewes as he +sold, last year (at this fair) for 32<i>s.</i> Farmer Holdway had sold “for +less than half” his last year’s price. A farmer that I did not know, +told us, that he had sold to a great sheep-dealer of the name of +Smallpiece at the latter’s own price! I asked him what that “own price” +was; and he said that he was ashamed to say. The horse-fair appeared to +have no business at all going on; for, indeed, how were people to +purchase horses, who had got only half-price for their sheep?</p> + +<p>The sales of sheep, at this one fair (including Appleshaw), must have +amounted, this year, to a hundred and twenty or thirty thousand pounds +less than last year! Stick a pin there, master “Prosperity Robinson,” +and turn back to it again anon! Then came the horses; not equal in +amount to the sheep, but of great amount. Then comes the cheese, a very +great article; and it will have a falling off, if you take quantity into +view, in a still greater proportion. The hops being a monstrous crop, +their <i>price</i> is nothing to judge by. But all is fallen. Even corn, +though, in many parts, all but the wheat and rye have totally failed, +is, taking a quarter of each of the <i>six sorts</i> (wheat, rye, barley, +oats, pease, and beans), 11<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i> cheaper, upon the whole; that is +to say, 11<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i> upon 258<i>s.</i> And, if the “<i>late</i> panic” had not +come, it must and it would have been, and according to the small bulk of +the crop, it ought to have been, 150<i>s.</i> <i>dearer</i>, instead of 11<i>s.</i> +9<i>d.</i> cheaper. Yet, it is too dear, and far too dear, for the working +people to eat! The masses, the assembled masses, must starve, if the +price of bread be not reduced; that is to say, in Scotland and Ireland; +for, <i>in England</i>, I hope that the people will “<i>demand</i> and <i>insist</i>” +(to use the language of the Bill of Rights) on a just and suitable +provision, agreeably to the law; and, if they do not get it, I trust +that law and justice will, in due course, be done, and strictly done, +upon those who refuse to make such provision. Though, in time, the price +of corn will come down without any repeal of the Corn Bill; and though +it would have come down now, if we had had a good crop, or an average +crop; still the Corn Bill ought now to be repealed, because people must +not be <i>starved</i> in waiting for the next crop; and the “landowners’ +monopoly,” as the son of “John with the bright sword” calls it, ought to +be swept away; and the sooner it is done, the better for the country. I +know very well that the landowners must lose their estates, if such +prices continue, and if the present taxes continue; I know this very +well; and, I like it well; for, the landowners <i>may cause the taxes to +be taken off if they will</i>. “Ah! wicked dog!” say they, “What, then, you +would have us lose the half pay and the pensions and sinecures which our +children and other relations, or that we ourselves, are pocketing out of +the taxes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> which are squeezed, in great part, out of the labourer’s +skin and bone!” Yes, upon my word, I would; but if you prefer losing +your estates, I have no great objection; for it is hard that, “in a free +country,” people should not have their choice of the different roads to +the poor-house. Here is the <i>rub</i>: the vote-owners, the seat-owners, the +big borough-mongers, have directly and indirectly, so large a share of +the loaves and fishes, that the share is, in point of clear income, +equal to, and, in some cases, greater than, that from their estates; +and, though this is not the case with the small fry of jolterheads, they +are so linked in with, and overawed by, the big ones, that they have all +the same feeling; and that is, that to cut off half-pay, pensions, +sinecures, commissionerships (such as that of Hobhouse’s father), army, +and the rest of the “good things,” would be nearly as bad as to take +away the estates, which, besides, are, in fact, in many instances, +nearly gone (at least from the present holder) already, by the means of +mortgage, annuity, rent-charge, settlement, jointure, or something or +other. Then there are the parsons, who with their keen noses, have +smelled out long enough ago, that, if any serious settlement should take +place, <i>they go</i> to a certainty. In short, they know well how the whole +nation (the interested excepted) feel towards them. They know well, that +were it not for their allies, it would soon be queer times with them.</p> + +<p>Here, then, is the <i>rub</i>. Here are the reasons why the taxes are not +taken off! Some of these jolterheaded beasts were ready to cry, and I +know one that did actually cry to a farmer (his tenant) in 1822. The +tenant told him, that “Mr. Cobbett had been <i>right</i> about this matter.” +“What!” exclaimed he, “I hope you do not read Cobbett! He will ruin you, +and he would ruin us all. He would introduce anarchy, confusion, and +destruction of property!” Oh, no, Jolterhead! There is no <i>destruction</i> +of property. Matter, the philosophers say, is <i>indestructible</i>. But, it +is all easily <i>transferable</i>, as is well-known to the base Jolterheads +and the blaspheming Jews. The former of these will, however, soon have +the faint sweat upon them again. Their tenants will be ruined <i>first</i>: +and, here what a foul robbery these landowners have committed, or at +least, enjoyed and pocketed the gain of! They have given their silent +assent to the one-pound note abolition Bill. They knew well that this +must reduce the price of farm produce <i>one-half</i>, or thereabouts; and +yet, they were prepared to take and to insist on, and they do take and +insist on, as high rents as if that Bill had never been passed! What +dreadful ruin will ensue! How many, many farmers’ families are now just +preparing the way for their entrance into the poor-house! How many; +certainly many a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> score farmers did I see at Weyhill, yesterday, who +came there as it were <i>to know their fate</i>; and who are gone home +thoroughly convinced, that they shall, as farmers, never see Weyhill +fair again!</p> + +<p>When such a man, his mind impressed with such conviction, returns home +and there beholds a family of children, half bred up, and in the notion +that they were <i>not</i> to be mere working people, what must be his +<i>feelings</i>? Why, if he have been a bawler against Jacobins and Radicals; +if he have approved of the Power-of-Imprisonment Bill and of Six-Acts; +aye, if he did not rejoice at Castlereagh’s cutting his own throat; if +he have been a cruel screwer down of the labourers, reducing them to +skeletons; if he have been an officious detecter of what are called +“poachers,” and have assisted in, or approved of, the hard punishments, +inflicted on them; then, in either of these cases, I say, that his +feelings, though they put the suicidal knife into his own hand, are +short of what he deserves! I say this, and this I repeat with all the +seriousness and solemnity with which a man can make a declaration; for, +had it not been for these base and selfish and unfeeling wretches, the +deeds of 1817 and 1819 and 1820 would never have been attempted. These +hard and dastardly dogs, armed up to the teeth, were always ready to +come forth to destroy, not only to revile, to decry, to belie, to +calumniate in all sorts of ways, but, if necessary, absolutely to cut +the throats of, those who had no object, and who could have no object, +other than that of preventing a continuance in that course of measures, +which have finally produced the ruin, and threaten to produce the +absolute destruction, of these base, selfish, hard and dastardly dogs +themselves. <i>Pity</i> them! Let them go for pity to those whom they have +applauded and abetted.</p> + +<p>The farmers, I mean the renters, will not now, as they did in 1819, +stand a good long emptying out. They had, in 1822, lost nearly all. The +present stock of the farms is not, in one half of the cases, the +property of the farmer. It is borrowed stock; and the sweeping out will +be very rapid. The notion that the Ministers will “do something” is +clung on to by all those who are deeply in debt, and all who have +leases, or other engagements for time. These <i>believe</i> (because they +anxiously <i>wish</i>) that the paper-money, by means of some sort or other, +will be put out again; while the Ministers <i>believe</i> (because they +anxiously <i>wish</i>) that the thing can go on, that they can continue to +pay the interest of the debt, and meet all the rest of their spendings, +without one-pound notes and without bank-restriction. Both parties will +be deceived, and in the midst of the strife, that the dissipation of the +delusion will infallibly lead to, the whole <span class="smcap">Thing</span> is very likely to go +to pieces; and that, too, <i>mind</i>, tumbling into the hands and placed at +the mercy, of a people, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> millions of whom have been fed upon less, +to four persons, than what goes down the throat of one single common +soldier! Please to <i>mind</i> that, Messieurs the admirers of select +vestries! You have <i>not done it</i>, Messieurs Sturges Bourne and the +Hampshire Parsons! You <i>thought</i> you had! You meaned well; but it was a +<i>coup-manqué</i>, a missing of the mark, and that, too, as is frequently +the case, by over-shooting it. The attempt will, however, produce its +just consequences in the end; and those consequences will be of vast +importance.</p> + +<p>From Weyhill I was shown, yesterday, the wood, in which took place the +battle, in which was concerned poor Turner, one of the young men, who +was hanged at Winchester, in the year 1822. There was another young man, +named Smith, who was, on account of another game-battle, hanged on the +same gallows! And this for the preservation of the <i>game</i>, you will +observe! This for the preservation of the <i>sports</i> of that aristocracy +for whose sake, and solely for whose sake, “Sir James Graham, of +Netherby, descendant of the Earls of Monteith and of the seventh Earl of +Galloway, K.T.” (being sure not to omit the K.T.); this hanging of us is +for the preservation of the sports of that aristocracy, for the sake of +whom this Graham, this barefaced plagiarist, this bungling and yet +impudent pamphleteer, would <i>sacrifice</i>, would reduce to beggary, +according to his pamphlet, <i>three hundred thousand families</i> (making, +doubtless, <i>two millions</i> of persons), in the middle rank of life! It is +for the preservation, for upholding what he insolently calls the +“dignity” of this sporting aristocracy, that he proposes to rob all +mortgagees, all who have claims upon land! The feudal lords in France +had, as Mr. Young tells us, a right, when they came in, fatigued, from +hunting or shooting, to cause the belly of one of their vassals to be +ripped up, in order for the lord to soak his feet in the bowels! Sir +James Graham of the bright sword does not propose to carry us back so +far as this; he is willing to stop at taking away the money and the +victuals of a very large part of the community; and, monstrous as it may +seem, I will venture to say, that there are scores of the Lord-Charles +tribe who think him moderate to a fault!</p> + +<p>But, to return to the above-mentioned hanging at Winchester (a thing +never to be forgotten by me), James Turner, aged 28 years, was accused +of assisting to kill Robert Baker, gamekeeper to Thomas Asheton Smith, +Esq., in the parish of South Tidworth; and Charles Smith, aged 27 years, +was accused of shooting at (not killing) Robert Snellgrove, assistant +gamekeeper to Lord Palmerston (Secretary at War), at Broadlands, in the +parish of Romsey. Poor Charles Smith had better have been hunting after +<i>shares</i> than after <i>hares</i>! <i>Mines</i>, however <i>deep</i>, he would have +found less perilous than the pleasure grounds of Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span> Palmerston! I +deem this hanging at Winchester worthy of general attention, and +particularly at this time, when the aristocracy near Andover, and one, +at least, of the members for that town, of whom this very Thomas Asheton +Smith was, until lately, one, was, if the report in the <i>Morning +Chronicle</i> (copied into the Register of the 7th instant) be correct, +endeavouring, at the late Meeting at Andover, to persuade people, that +they (these aristocrats) wished to keep up the price of corn for the +sake of the labourers, whom Sir John Pollen (Thomas Asheton Smith’s +son’s present colleague as member for Andover) called “poor devils,” and +who, he said, had “hardly a rag to cover them!” Oh! wished to keep up +the price of corn for the good of the “poor devils of labourers who have +hardly a rag to cover them!” Amiable feeling, tender-hearted souls! +Cared not a straw about <i>rents</i>! Did not; oh no! did not care even about +the farmers! It was only for the sake of the poor, naked devils of +labourers, that the colleague of young Thomas Asheton Smith cared; it +was only for those who were in the same rank of life as James Turner and +Charles Smith were, that these kind Andover aristocrats cared! This was +the only reason in the world for their wanting corn to sell at a high +price? We often say, “<i>that</i> beats everything;” but really, I think, +that these professions of the Andover aristocrats do “<i>beat +everything</i>.” Ah! but, Sir John Pollen, these professions come <i>too +late</i> in the day: the people are no longer to be deceived by such stupid +attempts at disguising hypocrisy. However, the attempt shall do this: it +shall make me repeat here that which I published on the Winchester +hanging, in the <i>Register</i> of the 6th of April, 1822. It made part of a +“Letter to Landlords.” Many boys have, since this article was published, +grown up to the age of thought. Let them now read it; and I hope, that +they will <i>remember it well</i>.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>I, last fall, addressed ten letters to you on the subject of the +<i>Agricultural Report</i>. My object was to convince you, that you would be +ruined; and, when I think of your general conduct towards the rest of +the nation, and especially towards the labourers, I must say that I have +great pleasure in seeing that my opinions are in a fair way of being +verified to the full extent. I dislike the <i>Jews</i>; but the Jews are not +so inimical to the industrious classes of the country as you are. We +should do a great deal better with the ’Squires from ’Change Alley, who, +at any rate, have nothing of the ferocious and bloody in their +characters. Engrafted upon your native want of feeling is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> sort of +military spirit of command that you have acquired during the late war. +You appeared, at the close of that war, to think that you had made a +<i>conquest</i> of the rest of the nation for ever; and, if it had not been +for the burdens which the war left behind it, there would have been no +such thing as air, in England, for any one but a slave to breathe. The +Bey of Tunis never talked to his subjects in language more insolent than +you talked to the people of England. The <span class="smcaplc">DEBT</span>, the blessed Debt, stood +our friend, made you soften your tone, and will finally place you where +you ought to be placed.</p> + +<p>This is the last Letter that I shall ever take the trouble to address to +you. In a short time, you will become much too insignificant to merit +any particular notice; but just in the way of <i>farewell</i>, and that there +may be something on record to show what care has been taken of the +partridges, pheasants, and hares, while the estates themselves have been +suffered to slide away, I have resolved to address this one more Letter +to you, which resolution has been occasioned by the recent <i>putting to +death</i>, at Winchester, of two men denominated <i>Poachers</i>. This is a +thing, which, whatever you may think of it, has not been passed over, +and is not to be passed over, without full notice and ample record. The +account of the matter, as it appeared in the public prints, was very +short; but the fact is such as never ought to be forgotten. And, while +you are complaining of your “distress,” I will endeavour to lay before +the public that which will show, that the <i>law</i> has not been unmindful +of even your <i>sports</i>. The time is approaching, when the people will +have an opportunity of exercising their judgment as to what are called +“Game-Laws;” when they will look back a little at what has been done for +the sake of insuring sport to landlords. In short, landlords as well as +labourers will <i>pass under review</i>. But, I must proceed to my subject, +reserving reflections for a subsequent part of my letter.</p> + +<p>The account, to which I have alluded, is this:</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Hampshire.</span> The Lent Assizes for this county concluded on Saturday +morning. The Criminal Calendar contained 58 prisoners for trial, 16 of +whom have been sentenced to suffer death, but two only of that number +(<i>poachers</i>) were left by the Judges for execution, viz.: James Turner, +aged 28, for aiding and assisting in killing Robert Baker, gamekeeper to +Thomas Asheton Smith, Esq., in the parish of South Tidworth, and Charles +Smith, aged 27, for having wilfully and maliciously shot at Robert +Snellgrove, assistant gamekeeper to Lord Palmerston, at Broadlands, in +the parish of Romsey, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm. The +Judge (Burrough) observed, it became <i>necessary to these cases</i>, that +the <i>extreme sentence of the law should be inflicted</i>, to <i>deter others, +as resistance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> to gamekeepers was now arrived at an alarming height</i>, +and many lives had been lost.”</p> + +<p>The first thing to observe here is, that there were <i>sixteen</i> persons +sentenced to suffer death; and that the only persons actually put to +death, were those who had been endeavouring to get at the hares, +pheasants or partridges of Thomas Asheton Smith, and of our Secretary at +War, Lord Palmerston. Whether the Judge Burrough (who was long Chairman +of the Quarter Sessions in Hampshire), uttered the words ascribed to +him, or not, I cannot say; but the words have gone forth in print, and +the impression they are calculated to make is this: that it was +necessary to put these two <i>men to death</i>, in order to deter others from +resisting gamekeepers. The putting of these men to death has excited a +very deep feeling throughout the County of Hants; a feeling very +honourable to the people of that county, and very natural to the breast +of every human being.</p> + +<p>In this case there appears to have been a killing, in which Turner +<i>assisted</i>; and Turner might, by possibility, have given the fatal blow; +but in the case of Smith, there was no killing at all. There was a mere +<i>shooting at</i>, with intention to do him bodily harm. This latter offence +was not a crime for which men were put to death, even when there was no +assault, or attempt at assault, on the part of the person shot at; this +was not a crime punished with death, until that terrible act, brought in +by the late Lord Ellenborough, was passed, and formed a part of our +matchless Code, that Code which there is such a talk about <i>softening</i>; +but which softening does not appear to have in view this Act, or any +portion of the Game-Laws.</p> + +<p>In order to form a just opinion with regard to the offence of these two +men that have been hanged at Winchester, we must first consider the +motives by which they were actuated, in committing the acts of violence +laid to their charge. For, it is the intention, and not the mere act, +that constitutes the crime. To make an act murder, there must be <i>malice +aforethought</i>. The question, therefore, is, did these men attack, or +were they the attacked? It seems to be clear that they were the attacked +parties: for they are executed, according to this publication, to deter +others from <i>resisting</i> gamekeepers!</p> + +<p>I know very well that there is Law for this; but what I shall endeavour +to show is, that the Law ought to be altered; that the people of +Hampshire ought to petition for such alteration; and that if you, the +Landlords, were wise, you would petition also, for an alteration, if not +a total annihilation of that terrible Code, called the Game-Laws, which +has been growing harder and harder all the time that it ought to have +been wearing away. It should never be forgotten, that, in order to make +punishments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> efficient in the way of example, they must be thought just +by the Community at large; and they will never be thought just if they +aim at the protection of things belonging to one particular class of the +Community, and, especially, if those very things be grudged to this +class by the Community in general. When punishments of this sort take +place, they are looked upon as unnecessary, the sufferers are objects of +pity, the common feeling of the Community is in their favour, instead of +being against them; and it is those who cause the punishment, and not +those who suffer it, who become objects of abhorrence.</p> + +<p>Upon seeing two of our countrymen hanging upon a gallows, we naturally, +and instantly, run back to the cause. First we find the fighting with +gamekeepers; next we find that the men would have been transported if +caught in or near a cover with guns, after dark; next we find that these +trespassers are exposed to transportation because they are in pursuit, +or supposed to be in pursuit, of partridges, pheasants, or hares; and +then, we ask, where is the foundation of a law to punish a man with +transportation for being in pursuit of these animals? And where, indeed, +is the foundation of the Law, to take from any man, be he who he may, +the right of catching and using these animals? We know very well; we are +instructed by mere feeling, that we have a right to live, to see and to +move. Common sense tells us that there are some things which no man can +reasonably call his property; and though poachers (as they are called) +do not read <i>Blackstone’s Commentaries</i>, they know that such animals as +are of a wild and untameable disposition, any man may seize upon and +keep for his own use and pleasure. “All these things, so long as they +remain in possession, every man has a right to enjoy without +disturbance; but if once they escape from his custody, or he voluntarily +abandons the use of them, they return to the common stock, and any man +else has an equal right to seize and enjoy them afterwards.” (Book 2, +Chapter 1.)</p> + +<p>In the Second Book and Twenty-sixth Chapter of <i>Blackstone</i>, the poacher +might read as follows: “With regard likewise to wild animals, all +mankind had by the original grant of the Creator a right to pursue and +take away any fowl or insect of the air, any fish or inhabitant of the +waters, and any beast or reptile of the field: and this natural right +still continues in every individual, unless where it is restrained by +the civil laws of the country. And when a man has once so seized them, +they become, while living, his qualified property, or, if dead, are +absolutely his own: so that to steal them, or otherwise invade this +property, is, according to the respective values, sometimes a criminal +offence, sometimes only a civil injury.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span>Poachers do not read this; but that reason which is common to all +mankind tells them that this is true, and tells them, also, <i>what to +think</i> of any positive law that is made to restrain them from this right +granted by the Creator. Before I proceed further in commenting upon the +case immediately before me, let me once more quote this English Judge, +who wrote fifty years ago, when the Game Code was mild indeed, compared +to the one of the present day. “Another violent alteration,” says he, +“of the English Constitution consisted in the depopulation of whole +countries, for the purposes of the King’s royal diversion; and +subjecting both them, and all the ancient forests of the kingdom, to the +unreasonable severities of forest laws imported from the continent, +whereby the slaughter of a beast was made almost as penal as the death +of a man. In the Saxon times, though no man was allowed to kill or chase +the King’s deer, yet he might start any game, pursue and kill it upon +his own estate. But the rigour of these new constitutions vested the +sole property of all the game in England in the King alone; and no man +was entitled to disturb any fowl of the air, or any beast of the field, +of such kinds as were specially reserved for the royal amusement of the +Sovereign, without express license from the King, by a grant of a chase +or free warren: and those franchises were granted as much with a view to +preserve the breed of animals, as to indulge the subject. From a similar +principle to which, though the forest laws are now mitigated, and by +degrees grown entirely obsolete, yet from this root has sprung up a +bastard slip, known by the name of the Game-Law, now arrived to and +wantoning in its highest vigour: both founded upon the same unreasonable +notions of permanent property in wild creatures; and both productive of +the same tyranny to the commons: but with this difference; that the +forest laws established only one mighty hunter throughout the land, the +game-laws have raised a little Nimrod in every manor.” (Book 4, Chapter +33.)</p> + +<p>When this was written nothing was known of the present severity of the +law. Judge Blackstone says that the Game Law was then wantoning in its +<i>highest vigour</i>; what, then, would he have said, if any one had +proposed to make it <i>felony</i> to resist a gamekeeper? He calls it tyranny +to the commons, as it existed in his time; what would he have said of +the present Code; which, so far from being thought a thing to be +<i>softened</i>, is never so much as mentioned by those humane and gentle +creatures, who are absolutely supporting a sort of reputation, and +aiming at distinction in Society, in consequence of their incessant talk +about softening the Criminal Code?</p> + +<p>The Law may say what it will, but the feelings of mankind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span> will never be +in favour of this Code; and whenever it produces putting to death, it +will, necessarily, excite horror. It is impossible to make men believe +that any particular set of individuals should have a permanent property +in wild creatures. That the owner of land should have a quiet possession +of it is reasonable and right and necessary; it is also necessary that +he should have the power of inflicting pecuniary punishment, in a +moderate degree, upon such as trespass on his lands; but his right can +go no further according to reason. If the law give him ample +compensation for every damage that he sustains, in consequence of a +trespass on his lands, what right has he to complain?</p> + +<p>The law authorises the King, in case of invasion, or apprehended +invasion, to call upon all his people to take up arms in defence of the +country. The Militia Law compels every man, in his turn, to become a +soldier. And upon what ground is this? There must be some reason for it, +or else the law would be tyranny. The reason is, that every man has +<i>rights</i> in the country to which he belongs; and that, therefore, it is +his duty to defend the country. Some rights, too, beyond that of merely +living, merely that of breathing the air. And then, I should be glad to +know, what rights an Englishman has, if the pursuit of even wild animals +is to be the ground of transporting him from his country? There is a +sufficient punishment provided by the law of trespass; quite sufficient +means to keep men off your land altogether! how can it be necessary, +then, to have a law to transport them for coming upon your land? No, it +is not for coming upon the land, it is for coming after the wild +animals, which nature and reason tells them, are as much theirs as they +are yours.</p> + +<p>It is impossible for the people not to contrast the treatment of these +two men at Winchester with the treatment of some gamekeepers that have +killed or maimed the persons they call poachers; and it is equally +impossible for the people, when they see these two men hanging on a +gallows, after being recommended to mercy, not to remember the almost +instant pardon, given to the exciseman, who was not recommended to +mercy, and who was found guilty of wilful murder in the County of +Sussex!</p> + +<p>It is said, and, I believe truly, that there are more persons imprisoned +in England for offences against the game-laws, than there are persons +imprisoned in France (with more than twice the population) for all sorts +of offences put together. When there was a loud outcry against the +cruelties committed on the priests and the seigneurs, by the people of +France, Arthur Young bade them remember the cruelties committed on the +people by the game-laws, and to bear in mind how many had been made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> +galley-slaves for having killed, or tried to kill, partridges, +pheasants, and hares!</p> + +<p>However, I am aware that it is quite useless to address observations of +this sort to you. I am quite aware of that; and yet, there are +circumstances, in your present situation, which, one would think, ought +to make you <i>not very gay</i> upon the hanging of the two men at +Winchester. It delights me, I assure you, to see the situation that you +are in; and I shall, therefore, now, once more, and for the last time, +address you upon that subject. We all remember how haughty, how insolent +you have been. We all bear in mind your conduct for the last thirty-five +years; and the feeling of pleasure at your present state is as general +as it is just. In my <i>ten Letters</i> to you, I told you that you would +lose your estates. Those of you who have any capacity, except that which +is necessary to enable you to kill wild animals, see this now, as +clearly as I do; and yet you evince no intention to change your courses. +You hang on with unrelenting grasp; and cry “pauper” and “poacher” and +“radical” and “lower orders” with as much insolence as ever! It is +always thus: men like you may be convinced of error, but they never +change their conduct. They never become just because they are convinced +that they have been unjust: they must have a great deal more than that +conviction to make them just.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>Such was what I <i>then</i> addressed to the Landlords. How well it fits the +<i>present</i> time! They are just in the same sort of <i>mess</i>, now, that they +were in 1822. But, there is this most important difference, that the +paper-money cannot <i>now</i> be put out, in a quantity sufficient to save +them, without producing not only a “<i>late</i> panic,” worse than the last, +but, in all probability, a total blowing up of the whole system, +game-laws, new trespass-laws, tread-mill, Sunday tolls, six-acts, +sun-set and sun-rise laws, apple-felony laws, select-vestry laws, and +all the whole <span class="smcap">Thing</span>, root and trunk and branch! Aye, not sparing, +perhaps, even the tent, or booth of induction, at Draycot Foliot! Good +Lord! how should we be able to live without game-laws! And tread-mills, +then? And Sunday-tolls? How should we get on without pensions, +sinecures, tithes, and the other “glorious institutions” of this “mighty +<i>empire</i>”? Let us turn, however, from the thought; but, bearing this in +mind, if you please, Messieurs the game-people; that if, no matter in +what shape and under what pretence; if, I tell you, paper be put out +again, sufficient to raise the price of a Southdown ewe to the last +year’s mark, the whole system goes to atoms. I tell you that; mind it; +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> look sharp about you, O ye fat parsons; for tithes and half-pay +will, be you assured, never, from that day, again go in company into +parson’s pocket.</p> + +<p>In this North of Hampshire, as everywhere else, the churches and all +other things exhibit indubitable marks of decay. There are along under +the north side of that chain of hills, which divide Hampshire from +Berkshire, in this part, taking into Hampshire about two or three miles +wide of the low ground along under the chain, eleven churches along in a +string in about fifteen miles, the chancels of which would contain a +great many more than all the inhabitants, men, women, and children, +sitting at their ease with plenty of room. How should this be otherwise, +when, in the parish of Burghclere, one single farmer holds by lease, +under Lord Carnarvon, as one farm, the lands that men, now living, can +remember to have formed fourteen farms, bringing up, in a respectable +way, fourteen families. In some instances these small farmhouses and +homesteads are completely gone; in others the buildings remain, but in a +tumble-down state; in others the house is gone, leaving the barn for use +as a barn or as a cattle-shed; in others the out-buildings are gone, and +the house, with rotten thatch, broken windows, rotten door-sills, and +all threatening to fall, remains as the dwelling of a half-starved and +ragged family of labourers, the grand-children, perhaps, of the decent +family of small farmers that formerly lived happily in this very house.</p> + +<p>This, with few exceptions, is the case all over England; and, if we duly +consider the nature and tendency of the hellish system of taxing, of +funding, and of paper-money, it must do so. Then, in this very parish of +Burghclere, there was, until a few months ago, a famous cock-parson, the +“Honourable and Reverend” George Herbert, who had grafted the <i>parson</i> +upon the <i>soldier</i> and the <i>justice</i> upon the parson; for he died, a +little while ago, a half-pay officer in the army, rector of two +parishes, and chairman of the quarter sessions of the county of Hants!! +Mr. <span class="smcap">Hone</span> gave us, in his memorable “<i>House that Jack built</i>,” a portrait +of the “Clerical Magistrate.” Could not he, or somebody else, give us a +portrait of the <i>military</i> and of the <i>naval parson</i>? For such are to be +found all over the kingdom. Wherever I go, I hear of them. And yet, +there sits Burdett, and even Sir Bobby of the Borough, and say not a +word upon the subject! This is the case: the King dismissed Sir Bobby +from the half-pay list, scratched his name out, turned him off, stopped +his pay. Sir Bobby complained, alleging, that the half-pay was a reward +for past services. No, no, said the Ministers: it is a <i>retaining fee</i> +for <i>future</i> services. Now, the law is, and the Parliament declared, in +the case of parson Horne Tooke, that once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> a parson always a parson, and +that a parson cannot, of course, again serve as an officer under the +crown. Yet these military and naval parsons have “a retaining fee for +future military and naval services!” Never was so barefaced a thing +before heard of in the world. And yet there sits Sir Bobby, stripped of +his “retaining fee,” and says not a word about the matter; and there sit +the <i>big Whigs</i>, who gave Sir Bobby the subscription, having sons, +brothers, and other relations, military and naval parsons, and the <i>big +Whigs</i>, of course, bid Sir Bobby (albeit given enough to twattle) hold +his tongue upon the subject; and there sit Mr. Wetherspoon (I think it +is), and the rest of Sir Bobby’s Rump, toasting “the <i>independence</i> of +the Borough and its member!”</p> + +<p>“That’s our case,” as the lawyers say: match it if you can, devil, in +all your roamings up and down throughout the earth! I have often been +thinking, and, indeed, expecting, to see Sir Bobby turn parson himself, +as the likeliest way to get back his half-pay. If he should have “a +call,” I do hope we shall have him, for parson at Kensington; and, as an +inducement, I promise him, that I will give him a good thumping +Easter-offering.</p> + +<p>In former <span class="smcap">Rides</span>, and especially in 1821 and 1822, I described very fully +this part of Hampshire. The land is a chalk bottom, with a bed of +reddish, stiff loam, full of flints, at top. In those parts where the +bed of loam and flints is deep the land is arable or woods: where the +bed of loam and flints is so shallow as to let the plough down to the +chalk, the surface is downs. In the deep and long valleys, where there +is constantly, or occasionally, a stream of water, the top soil is +blackish, and the surface meadows. This has been the distribution from +all antiquity, except that, in ancient times, part of that which is now +downs and woods was <i>corn-land</i>, as we know from the <i>marks of the +plough</i>. And yet the Scotch fellows would persuade us, that there were +scarcely any inhabitants in England before it had the unspeakable +happiness to be united to that fertile, warm, and hospitable country, +where the people are so well off that they are <i>above</i> having +poor-rates!</p> + +<p>The tops of the hills here are as good corn-land as any other part; and +it is all excellent corn-land, and the fields and woods singularly +beautiful. Never was there what may be called a more <i>hilly</i> country, +and <i>all in use</i>. Coming from Burghclere, you come up nearly a mile of +steep hill, from the top of which you can see all over the country, even +to the Isle of Wight; to your right a great part of Wiltshire; into +Surrey on your left; and, turning round, you see, lying below you, the +whole of Berkshire, great part of Oxfordshire, and part of +Gloucestershire. This chain of lofty hills was a great favourite with +Kings and rulers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> in ancient times. At Highclere, at Combe, and at other +places, there are remains of great encampments, or fortifications; and +Kingsclere was a residence of the Saxon Kings, and continued to be a +royal residence long after the Norman Kings came. <span class="smcap">King John</span>, when +residing at Kingsclere, founded one of the charities which still exists +in the town of Newbury, which is but a few miles from Kingsclere.</p> + +<p>From the top of this lofty chain, you come to Uphusband (or the Upper +Hurstbourn) over two miles or more of ground, descending in the way that +the body of a snake descends (when he is going fast) from the high part, +near the head, down to the tail; that is to say, over a series of hill +and dell, but the dell part going constantly on increasing upon the +hilly part, till you come down to this village; and then you, continuing +on (southward) towards Andover, go up, directly, half a mile of hill so +steep, as to make it very difficult for an ordinary team with a load to +take that load up it. So this <i>Up</i>-hurstbourn (called so because <i>higher +up the valley</i> than the other Hurstbourns), the flat part of the road to +which, from the north, comes in between two side-hills, is in as narrow +and deep a dell as any place that I ever saw.</p> + +<p>The houses of the village are, in great part, scattered about, and are +amongst very lofty and fine trees; and, from many, many points round +about, from the hilly fields, now covered with the young wheat, or with +scarcely less beautiful sainfoin, the village is a sight worth going +many miles to see. The lands, too, are pretty beyond description. These +chains of hills make, below them, an endless number of lower hills, of +varying shapes and sizes and aspects and of relative state as to each +other; while the surface presents, in the size and form of the fields, +in the woods, the hedgerows, the sainfoin, the young wheat, the turnips, +the tares, the fallows, the sheep-folds and the flocks, and, at every +turn of your head, a fresh and different set of these; this surface all +together presents that which I, at any rate, could look at with pleasure +for ever. Not a sort of country that I like so well as when there are +<i>downs</i> and a <i>broader valley</i> and <i>more of meadow</i>; but a sort of +country that I like next to that; for, here, as there, there are no +ditches, no water-furrows, no dirt, and never any drought to cause +inconvenience. The chalk is at bottom, and it takes care of all. The +crops of wheat have been very good here this year, and those of barley +not very bad. The sainfoin has given a fine crop of the finest sort of +hay in the world, and, this year, without a drop of wet.</p> + +<p>I wish, that, in speaking of this pretty village (which I always return +to with additional pleasure), I could give <i>a good account</i> of the state +of <i>those, without whose labour there would be neither corn nor sainfoin +nor sheep</i>. I regret to say, that my account<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> of this matter, if I give +it truly, must be a dismal account indeed! For I have, in no part of +England, seen the labouring people so badly off as they are here. This +has made so much impression on me, that I shall enter fully into the +matter with names, dates, and all the particulars in the IVth Number of +the “<span class="smcap">Poor Man’s Friend</span>.” This is one of the great purposes for which I +take these “Rides.” I am persuaded, that, before the day shall come when +my labours must cease, <i>I shall have mended the meals of millions</i>. I +may over-rate the effects of my endeavours; but, this being my +persuasion, I should be guilty of a great neglect of duty, were I not to +use those endeavours.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Andover, Sunday,<br />15th October.</i></p> + +<p>I went to Weyhill, yesterday, to see the close of the hop and of the +cheese fair; for, after the sheep, these are the principal articles. The +crop of hops has been, in parts where they are grown, unusually large +and of super-excellent quality. The average price of the Farnham <i>hops</i> +has been, as nearly as I can ascertain, seven pounds for a +hundredweight; that of Kentish hops, five pounds, and that of the +Hampshire and Surrey hops (other than those of Farnham), about five +pounds also. The prices are, considering the great weight of the crop, +very good; but, if it had not been for the effects of “<i>late</i> panic” +(proceeding, as Baring said, from a “plethora of money,”) these prices +would have been a full third, if not nearly one half, higher; for, +though the crop has been so large and so good, there was hardly any +stock on hand; the country was almost wholly without hops.</p> + +<p>As to cheese, the price, considering the quantity, has been not one half +so high as it was last year. The fall in the positive price has been +about 20 per cent., and the quantity made in 1826 has not been above +two-thirds as great as that made in 1825. So that, here is a fall of +<i>one-half</i> in real relative price; that is to say, the farmer, while he +has the same rent to pay that he paid last year, has only half as much +money to receive for cheese, as he received for cheese last year; and +observe, on some farms, cheese is almost the only saleable produce.</p> + +<p>After the fair was over, yesterday, I came down from the Hill (3 miles) +to this town of Andover; which has, within the last 20 days, been more +talked of, in other parts of the kingdom, than it ever was before from +the creation of the world to the beginning of those 20 days. The Thomas +Asheton Smiths and the Sir John Pollens, famous as they have been under +the banners of the Old Navy Purser, George Rose, and his successors, +have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> never, even since the death of poor Turner, been half so famous, +they and this Corporation, whom they represent, as they have been since +the Meeting which they held here, which ended in their defeat and +confusion, pointing them out as worthy of that appellation of “Poor +Devils,” which Pollen thought proper to give to those labourers without +whose toil his estate would not be worth a single farthing.</p> + +<p>Having laid my plan to sleep at Andover last night, I went with two +Farnham friends, Messrs. Knowles and West, to dine at the ordinary at +the George Inn, which is kept by one Sutton, a rich old fellow, who wore +a round-skirted sleeved fustian waistcoat, with a dirty white apron tied +round his middle, and with no coat on; having a look the <i>eagerest</i> and +the <i>sharpest</i> that I ever saw in any set of features in my whole +life-time; having an air of authority and of mastership, which, to a +stranger, as I was, seemed quite incompatible with the meanness of his +dress and the vulgarity of his manners; and there being, visible to +every beholder, constantly going on in him a pretty even contest between +the servility of avarice and the insolence of wealth. A great part of +the farmers and other fair-people having gone off home, we found +preparations made for dining only about ten people. But, after we sat +down, and it was seen that we designed to dine, guests came in apace, +the preparations were augmented, and as many as could dine came and +dined with us.</p> + +<p>After the dinner was over, the room became fuller and fuller; guests +came in from the other inns, where they had been dining, till, at last, +the room became as full as possible in every part, the door being +opened, the door-way blocked up, and the stairs, leading to the room, +crammed from bottom to top. In this state of things, Mr. Knowles, who +was our chairman, gave <i>my health</i>, which, of course, was followed by a +<i>speech</i>; and, as the reader will readily suppose, to have an +opportunity of making a speech was the main motive for my going to dine +at <i>an inn</i>, at any hour, and especially at <i>seven o’clock</i> at night. In +this speech, I, after descanting on the present devastating ruin, and on +those successive acts of the Ministers and the Parliament by which such +ruin had been produced; after remarking on the shuffling, the tricks, +the contrivances from 1797 up to last March, I proceeded to offer to the +company <i>my reasons</i> for believing, that no attempt would be made to +relieve the farmers and others, by putting out the paper-money again, as +in 1822, or by a bank-restriction. Just as I was stating these my +reasons, on a prospective matter of such deep interest to my hearers, +amongst whom were land-owners, land-renters, cattle and sheep dealers, +hop and cheese producers and merchants, and even one, two or more, +country bankers; just as I was engaged in stating <i>my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span> reasons</i> for my +opinion on a matter of such vital importance to the parties present, who +were all listening to me with the greatest attention; just at this time, +a noise was heard, and a sort of row was taking place in the passage, +the cause of which was, upon inquiry, found to be no less a personage +than our landlord, our host Sutton, who, it appeared, finding that my +speech-making had cut off, or, at least, suspended, all intercourse +between the dining, now become a drinking, room and the <i>bar</i>; who, +finding that I had been the cause of a great “restriction in the +exchange” of our money for his “neat” “genuine” commodities downstairs, +and being, apparently, an ardent admirer of the “liberal” system of +“free trade”; who, finding, in short, or, rather, supposing, that, if my +tongue were not stopped from running, his taps would be, had, though an +old man, fought, or, at least, forced his way up the thronged stairs and +through the passage and door-way, into the room, and was (with what +breath the struggle had left him) beginning to bawl out to me, when some +one called to him, and told him that he was causing an interruption, to +which he answered, that that was what he had come to do! And then he +went on to say, in so many words, that my speech injured his sale of +liquor!</p> + +<p>The disgust and abhorrence, which such conduct could not fail to excite, +produced, at first, a desire to quit the room and the house, and even a +proposition to that effect. But, after a minute or so, to reflect, the +company resolved not to quit the room but to turn him out of it who had +caused the interruption; and the old fellow, finding himself <i>tackled</i>, +saved the labour of shoving, or kicking, him out of the room, by +retreating out of the door-way with all the activity of which he was +master. After this I proceeded with my speech-making; and, this being +ended, the great business of the evening, namely, drinking, smoking, and +singing, was about to be proceeded in by a company, who had just closed +an arduous and anxious week, who had before them a Sunday morning to +sleep in, and whose wives were, for the far greater part, at a +convenient distance. An assemblage of circumstances more auspicious to +“free trade” in the “neat” and “genuine,” has seldom occurred! But, now +behold, the old fustian-jacketed fellow, whose head was, I think, +<i>powdered</i>, took it into that head not only to lay “restrictions” upon +trade, but to impose an absolute embargo; cut off entirely all supplies +whatever from his bar to the room, <i>as long as I remained in that room</i>. +A message to this effect, from the old fustian man, having been, through +the waiter, communicated to Mr. Knowles, and he having communicated it +to the company, I addressed the company in nearly these words: +“Gentlemen, born and bred, as you know I was, on the borders of this +county, and fond, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> I am of bacon, <i>Hampshire hogs</i> have, with me, +always been objects of admiration rather than of contempt; but that +which has just happened here, induces me to observe, that this feeling +of mine has been confined to hogs of <i>four legs</i>. For my part, I like +your company too well to quit it. I have paid this fellow <i>six +shillings</i> for the wing of a fowl, a bit of bread, and a pint of small +beer. I have a right to sit here; I want no drink, and those who do, +being refused it here, have a right to send to other houses for it, and +to drink it here.”</p> + +<p>However, Mammon soon got the upper hand downstairs, all the fondness for +“free trade” returned, and up came the old fustian-jacketed fellow, +bringing pipes, tobacco, wine, grog, sling, and seeming to be as pleased +as if he had just sprung a mine of gold! Nay, he, soon after this, came +into the room with two gentlemen, who had come to him to ask where I +was. He actually came up to me, making me a bow, and, telling me that +those gentlemen wished to be introduced to me, he, with a fawning look, +laid his hand upon my knee! “Take away your <i>paw</i>,” said I, and, shaking +the gentlemen by the hand, I said, “I am happy to see you, gentlemen, +even though introduced by this fellow.” Things now proceeded without +interruption; songs, toasts, and speeches filled up the time, until +half-past two o’clock this morning, though in the house of a landlord +who receives the sacrament, but who, from his manifestly ardent +attachment to the “liberal principles” of “free trade,” would, I have no +doubt, have suffered us, if we could have found money and throats and +stomachs, to sit and sing and talk and drink until two o’clock of a +Sunday afternoon instead of two o’clock of a Sunday morning. It was not +politics; it was not <i>personal</i> dislike to me; for the fellow knew +nothing of me. It was, as I told the company, just this: he looked upon +their bodies as so many gutters to drain off the contents of his taps, +and upon their purses as so many small heaps from which to take the +means of augmenting his great one; and, finding that I had been, no +matter how, the cause of suspending this work of “reciprocity,” he +wanted, and no matter how, to restore the reciprocal system to motion. +All that I have to add is this: that the next time this old +sharp-looking fellow gets <i>six shillings</i> from me, for a dinner, he +shall, if he choose, <i>cook me</i>, in any manner that he likes, and season +me with hand so unsparing as to produce in the feeders thirst +unquenchable.</p> + +<p>To-morrow morning we set off for the New Forest; and, indeed, we have +lounged about here long enough. But, as some apology, I have to state, +that, while I have been in a sort of waiting upon this great fair, where +one hears, sees, and learns so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> much, I have been writing No. IV. of the +“<i>Poor Man’s Friend</i>,” which, price twopence, is published once a month.</p> + +<p>I see, in the London newspapers, accounts of <i>dispatches from Canning</i>! +I thought that he went solely “on a party of pleasure!” So, the +“dispatches” come to tell the King how the pleasure party gets on! No: +what he is gone to Paris for is to endeavour to prevent the “<i>Holy</i> +Allies” from doing anything which shall sink the English Government in +the eyes of the world, and <i>thereby favour the radicals</i>, who are +enemies of <i>all</i> “regular Government,” and whose success in England +would <i>revive republicanism</i> in France. This is my opinion. The subject, +if I be right in my opinion, was too ticklish to be committed to paper: +Granville Levison Gower (for that is the man that is now Lord Granville) +was, perhaps, not thought quite a match for the French as <i>a talker</i>; +and, therefore, the Captain of Eton, who, in 1817, said, that the “ever +living luminary of British prosperity was only hidden behind a cloud;” +and who, in 1819, said, that “Peel’s Bill had set the currency question +at rest for ever;” therefore the profound Captain is gone over to see +what <i>he</i> can do.</p> + +<p>But, Captain, a word in your ear: we do not care for the Bourbons any +more than we do for you! My real opinion is, that there is nothing that +can put England to rights, that will not shake the Bourbon Government. +This is my opinion; but I defy the Bourbons to save, or to assist in +saving, the present system in England, unless they and their friends +will subscribe and pay off your debt for you, Captain of toad-eating and +nonsensical and shoe-licking Eton! Let them pay off your debt for you, +Captain; let the Bourbons and their allies do that; or they cannot save +you; no, nor can they help you, even in the smallest degree.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Rumsey (Hampshire),<br />Monday Noon, 16th Oct.</i></p> + +<p>Like a very great fool, I, out of senseless complaisance, waited, this +morning, to breakfast with the friends, at whose house we slept last +night, at Andover. We thus lost two hours of dry weather, and have been +justly punished by about an hour’s ride in the rain. I settled on +Lyndhurst as the place to lodge at to-night; so we are here, feeding our +horses, drying our clothes, and writing the account of our journey. We +came, as much as possible, all the way through the villages, and, almost +all the way, avoided the turnpike-roads. From Andover to Stockbridge +(about seven or eight miles) is, for the greatest part, an open corn and +sheep country, a considerable portion of the land being downs. The wheat +and rye and vetch and sainfoin fields look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span> beautiful here; and, during +the whole of the way from Andover to Rumsey, the early turnips of both +kinds are not bad, and the stubble turnips very promising. The downs are +green as meadows usually are in April. The grass is most abundant in all +situations, where grass grows. From Stockbridge to Rumsey we came nearly +by the river side, and had to cross the river several times. This, the +River Teste, which, as I described, in my Ride of last November, begins +at Uphusband, by springs, bubbling up, in March, out of the bed of that +deep valley. It is at first a bourn, that is to say, a stream that runs +only a part of the year, and is the rest of the year as dry as a road. +About 5 miles from this periodical source, it becomes a stream all the +year round. After winding about between the chalk hills, for many miles, +first in a general direction towards the south-east, and then in a +similar direction towards the south-west and south, it is joined by the +little stream that rises just above and that passes through the town of +Andover. It is, after this, joined by several other little streams, with +names; and here, at Rumsey, it is a large and very fine river, famous, +all the way down, for trout and eels, and both of the finest quality.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Lyndhurst (New Forest),<br />Monday Evening, 16th October.</i></p> + +<p>I have just time, before I go to bed, to observe that we arrived here, +about 4 o’clock, over about 10 or 11 miles of the best road in the +world, having a choice too, for the great part of the way, between these +smooth roads and green sward. Just as we came out of Rumsey (or Romsey), +and crossed our River Teste once more, we saw to our left, the sort of +park, called <i>Broadlands</i>, where poor Charles Smith, who (as mentioned +above) was hanged for <i>shooting at</i> (<i>not killing</i>) one Snellgrove, an +assistant-gamekeeper of Lord Palmerston, who was then our Secretary at +War, and who is in that office, I believe, now, though he is now better +known as a Director of the grand Mining Joint-Stock Company, which shows +the great <i>industry</i> of this Noble and “Right Honourable person,” and +also the great scope and the various nature and tendency of his talents. +What would our old fathers of the “dark ages” have said, if they had +been told, that their descendants would, at last, become so enlightened +as to enable Jews and loan-jobbers to take away noblemen’s estates by +mere “watching the turn of the market,” and to cause members, or, at +least, one Member, of that “most Honourable, Noble, and Reverend +Assembly,” the King’s Privy Council, in which he himself sits: so +<i>enlightened</i>, I say, as to cause one of this “most Honourable and +Reverend body” to become a Director in a mining speculation? How one +<i>pities</i> our poor, “dark-age, bigoted”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> ancestors, who would, I dare +say, have been as ready to <i>hang</i> a man for proposing such a “liberal” +system as this, as they would have been to hang him for <i>shooting at</i> +(not killing) an assistant game-keeper! Poor old fellows! How much they +lost by not living in our enlightened times! I am here close by the Old +Purser’s son George Rose’s!</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RIDE: FROM LYNDHURST (NEW FOREST) TO BEAULIEU ABBEY; THENCE TO +SOUTHAMPTON AND WESTON; THENCE TO BOTLEY, ALLINGTON, WEST END, NEAR +HAMBLEDON; AND THENCE TO PETERSFIELD, THURSLEY, GODALMING.</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>But where is now the goodly audit ale?<br /> +The purse-proud tenant, never known to fail?<br /> +The farm which never yet was left on hand?<br /> +The marsh reclaim’d to most improving land?<br /> +The impatient hope of the expiring lease?<br /> +The doubling rental? What an evil’s peace!<br /> +In vain the prize excites the ploughman’s skill,<br /> +In vain the Commons pass their patriot Bill;<br /> +The <i>Landed Interest</i>—(you may understand<br /> +The phrase much better leaving out the <i>Land</i>)—<br /> +The land self-interest groans from shore to shore,<br /> +For fear that plenty should attain the poor.<br /> +Up, up again, ye rents! exalt your notes,<br /> +Or else the Ministry will lose their votes,<br /> +And patriotism, so delicately nice,<br /> +Her loaves will lower to the market price.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><span class="smcap">Lord Byron</span>, <i>Age of Bronze</i>.</td></tr></table> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Weston Grove,<br />Wednesday, 18 Oct., 1826.</i></p> + +<p>Yesterday, from Lyndhurst to this place, was a ride, including our +round-abouts, of more than forty miles; but the roads the best in the +world, one half of the way green turf; and the day as fine an one as +ever came out of the heavens. We took in a breakfast, calculated for a +long day’s work, and for no more eating till night. We had slept in a +room, the access to which was only through another sleeping room, which +was also occupied; and, as I had got up about <i>two o’clock</i> at Andover, +we went to bed, at Lyndhurst, about <i>half-past seven</i> o’clock. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> was, +of course, awake by three or four; I had eaten little over night; so +that here lay I, not liking (even after day-light began to glimmer) to +go through a chamber, where, by possibility, there might be “a lady” +actually <i>in bed</i>; here lay I, my bones aching with lying in bed, my +stomach growling for victuals, imprisoned by my <i>modesty</i>. But, at last, +I grew impatient; for, modesty here or modesty there, I was not to be +penned up and starved: so, after having shaved and dressed and got ready +to go down, I thrusted George out a little before me into the other +room; and through we pushed, previously resolving, of course, not to +look towards <i>the bed</i> that was there. But, as the devil would have it, +just as I was about the middle of the room, I, like Lot’s wife, turned +my head! All that I shall say is, first, that the consequences that +befel her did not befal me, and, second, that I advise those, who are +likely to be hungry in the morning, not to sleep in <i>inner rooms</i>; or, +if they do, to take some bread and cheese in their pockets. Having got +safe downstairs, I lost no time in inquiry after the means of obtaining +a breakfast to make up for the bad fare of the previous day; and finding +my landlady rather tardy in the work, and not, seemingly, having a +proper notion of the affair, I went myself, and, having found a +butcher’s shop, bought a loin of small, fat, wether mutton, which I saw +cut out of the sheep and cut into chops. These were brought to the inn; +George and I ate about 2lb. out of the 5lb., and, while I was writing a +letter, and making up my packet, to be ready to send from Southampton, +George went out and found a poor woman to come and take away the rest of +the loin of mutton; for our <i>fastings</i> of the day before enabled us to +do this; and, though we had about forty miles to go, to get to this +place (through the route that we intended to take), I had resolved, that +we would go without any more <i>purchase</i> of victuals and drink this day +also. I beg leave to suggest to my <i>well-fed</i> readers; I mean, those who +have at their command more victuals and drink than they can possibly +swallow; I beg to suggest to such, whether this would not be a good way +for them all to find the means of bestowing charity? Some poet has said, +that that which is given in <i>charity</i> gives a blessing on both sides; to +the giver as well as the receiver. But I really think that if, <i>in +general</i>, the food and drink given, came out of food and drink +<i>deducted</i> from the usual quantity swallowed by the giver, the +<i>blessing</i> would be still greater, and much more certain. I can speak +for myself, at any rate. I hardly ever eat more than <i>twice</i> a day; when +at home, never; and I never, if I can well avoid it, eat any meat later +than about one or two o’clock in the day. I drink a little tea, or milk +and water at the usual tea-time (about 7 o’clock); I go to bed at eight, +if I can; I write<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span> or read, from about four to about eight, and then +hungry as a hunter, I go to breakfast, eating <i>as small a parcel</i> of +cold meat and bread as I can prevail upon my teeth to be satisfied with. +I do just the same at dinner time. I very rarely taste <i>garden-stuff</i> of +any sort. If any man can show me, that he has done, or can do, <i>more +work</i>, bodily and mentally united; I say nothing about good health, for +of that the public can know nothing; but I refer to <i>the work</i>: the +public know, they see, what I can do, and what I actually have done, and +what I do; and when any one has shown the public, that he has done, or +can do, more, then I will advise my readers attend to him, on the +subject of diet, and not to me. As to <i>drink</i>, the less the better; and +mine is milk and water, or <i>not-sour</i> small beer, if I can get the +latter; for the former I always can. I like the milk and water best; but +I do not like much water; and, if I drink much milk, it loads and +stupefies and makes me fat.</p> + +<p>Having made all preparations for a day’s ride, we set off, as our first +point, for a station, in the Forest, called New Park, there to see +something about <i>plantations</i> and other matters connected with the +affairs of our prime cocks, the Surveyors of Woods and Forests and Crown +Lands and Estates. But, before I go forward any further, I must just +step back again to Rumsey, which we passed rather too hastily through on +the 16th, as noticed in the <span class="smcap">Ride</span> that was published last week. This town +was, in ancient times, a very grand place, though it is now nothing more +than a decent market-town, without anything to entitle it to particular +notice, except its church, which was the church of an Abbey Nunnery +(founded more, I think, than a thousand years ago), and which church was +the burial place of several of the Saxon Kings, and of “Lady +Palmerstone,” who, a few years ago, “died in child-birth”! What a +mixture! But there was another personage buried here, and who was, it +would seem, a native of the place; namely, Sir William Petty, the +ancestor of the present Marquis of Lansdown. He was the son of <i>a +cloth-weaver</i>, and was, doubtless, himself a weaver when young. He +became a surgeon, was first in the service of Charles I.; then went into +that of Cromwell, whom he served as physician-general to his army in +Ireland (alas! poor Ireland), and, in this capacity, he resided at +Dublin till Charles II. came, when he came over to London (having become +very rich), was knighted by that profligate and ungrateful King, and he +died in 1687, leaving a fortune of 15,000<i>l.</i> a year! This is what his +biographers say. He must have made pretty good use of his time while +physician-general to Cromwell’s army, in poor Ireland! <i>Petty</i> by nature +as well as by name, he got, from Cromwell, a “patent for +<i>double-writing</i>, invented by him;” and he invented a “<i>double-bottomed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span> +ship to sail against wind and tide</i>, a model of which is still preserved +in the library of the Royal Society,” of which he was a most worthy +member. His great art was, however, the amassing of money, and the +getting of <i>grants of lands in poor Ireland</i>, in which he was one of the +most successful of the English adventurers. I had, the other day, +occasion to observe that the word <i>Petty</i> manifestly is the French word +<i>Petit</i>, which means <i>little</i>; and that it is, in these days of +degeneracy, pleasing to reflect that there is <i>one family</i>, at any rate, +that “Old England” still boasts one family, which retains the character +designated by its pristine name; a reflection that rushed with great +force into my mind, when, in the year 1822, I heard the present noble +head of the family say, in the House of Lords, that he thought that a +currency of paper, convertible into gold, was the best and most solid +and safe, especially since <i>Platina</i> had been discovered! “Oh, God!” +exclaimed I to myself, as I stood listening and admiring “below the +bar;” “Oh, great God! there it is, there it is, still running in the +blood, that genius which discovered the art of double writing, and of +making ships with double-bottoms to sail against wind and tide!” This +noble and profound descendant of Cromwell’s army-physician has now seen +that “paper, convertible into gold,” is not quite so “solid and safe” as +he thought it was! He has now seen what a “late panic” is! And he might, +if he were not so very well worthy of his family name, openly confess +that he was deceived, when, in 1819, he, as one of the Committee, who +reported in favour of Peel’s Bill, said that the country could pay the +interest of the debt in gold! Talk of a <i>change of Ministry</i>, indeed! +What is to be <i>gained</i> by putting this man in the place of any of those +who are in power now?</p> + +<p>To come back now to Lyndhurst, we had to go about three miles to New +Park, which is a <i>farm</i> in the New Forest, and nearly in the centre of +it. We got to this place about nine o’clock. There is a good and large +mansion-house here, in which the “Commissioners” of Woods and Forests +reside, when they come into the Forest. There is a garden, a farm-yard, +a farm, and a nursery. The place looks like a considerable gentleman’s +seat; the house stands in a sort of <i>park</i>, and you can see that a great +deal of expense has been incurred in levelling the ground, and making it +pleasing to the eye of my lords “the Commissioners.” My business here +was to see, whether anything had been done towards the making of <i>Locust +plantations</i>. I went first to Lyndhurst to make inquiries; but I was +there told that New Park was the place, and the only place, at which to +get information on the subject; and I was told, further, that the +Commissioners were now at New Park; that is to say those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> experienced +tree planters, Messrs. Arbuthnot, Dawkins, and Company. Gad! thought I, +I am here coming in close contact with a branch, or at least a twig, of +the great <span class="smcap">Thing</span> itself! When I heard this, I was at breakfast, and, of +course, dressed for the day. I could not, out of my extremely limited +wardrobe, afford a clean shirt for the occasion; and so, off we set, +just as we were, hoping that their worships, the nation’s tree planters, +would, if they met with us, excuse our dress, when they considered the +nature of our circumstances. When we came to the house, we were stopped +by a little fence and fastened gate. I got off my horse, gave him to +George to hold, went up to the door, and rang the bell. Having told my +business to a person, who appeared to be a foreman, or bailiff, he, with +great civility, took me into a nursery which is at the back of the +house; and I soon drew from him the disappointing fact that my lords, +the tree-planters, had departed the day before! I found, as to +<i>Locusts</i>, that a patch were sowed last spring, which I saw, which are +from one foot to four feet high, and very fine and strong, and are, in +number, about enough to plant two acres of ground, the plants at four +feet apart each way. I found that, last fall, some few Locusts had been +put out into plantations of other trees already made; but that they had +<i>not thriven</i>, and had been <i>barked</i> by the hares! But a little bunch of +these trees (same age), which were planted in the nursery, ought to +convince my lords, the tree-planters, that, if they were to do what they +ought to do, the public would very soon be owners of fine plantations of +Locusts, for the use of the navy. And, what are the <i>hares</i> kept <i>for</i> +here? <i>Who</i> eats them? What <i>right</i> have these Commissioners to keep +hares here, to eat up the trees? Lord Folkestone killed his hares before +he made his plantation of Locusts; and, why not kill the hares in the +<i>people’s</i> forest; for the <i>people’s</i> it is, and that these +Commissioners ought always to remember. And then, again, why this farm? +What is it <i>for</i>? Why, the pretence for it is this: that it is necessary +to give the deer <i>hay</i>, in winter, because the lopping down of limbs of +trees for them to <i>browse</i> (as used to be the practice) is injurious to +the growth of timber. That will be a very good reason for having a +<i>hay-farm</i>, when my lords shall have proved two things; first, that hay, +in quantity equal to what is raised here, could not be bought for a +twentieth part of the money that this farm and all its trappings cost; +and, second, that there ought to be any deer kept! What are these deer +<i>for</i>? Who are to <i>eat</i> them? Are they for the Royal Family? Why, there +are more deer bred in Richmond Park alone, to say nothing of Bushy Park, +Hyde Park, and Windsor Park; there are more deer bred in Richmond Park +alone, than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> would feed all the branches of the Royal Family and all +their households all the year round, if every soul of them ate as hearty +as ploughmen, and if they never touched a morsel of any kind of meat but +venison! For what, and <i>for whom</i>, then, are deer kept, in the New +Forest; and why an expense of hay-farm, of sheds, of racks, of keepers, +of lodges, and other things attending the deer and the game; an expense, +amounting to more money annually than would have given relief to all the +starving manufacturers in the North! And again I say, <i>who</i> is all this +venison and game <i>for</i>? There is more game even in Kew Gardens than the +Royal Family can want! And, in short, do they ever taste, or even hear +of, any game, or any venison, from the New Forest?</p> + +<p>What a pretty thing here is, then! Here is another deep bite into us by +the long and sharp-fanged Aristocracy, who so love Old Sarum! Is there a +man who will say that this is right? And that the game should be kept, +too, to eat up trees, to destroy plantations, to destroy what is first +paid for the planting of! And that the public should pay keepers to +preserve this game! And that the <i>people</i> should be <i>transported</i> if +they go out by night to catch the game that they pay for feeding! +Blessed state of an Aristocracy! It is pity that it has got a nasty, +ugly, obstinate <span class="smcaplc">DEBT</span> to deal with! It might possibly go on for ages, +deer and all, were it not for this <span class="smcaplc">DEBT</span>. This New Forest is a piece of +property, as much belonging <i>to the public</i> as the Custom-House at +London is. There is no man, however poor, who has not a right in it. +Every man is owner of a part of the deer, the game, and of the money +that goes to the keepers; and yet, any man may be <i>transported</i>, if he +go out by night to catch any part of this game! We are compelled to pay +keepers for preserving game to eat up the trees that we are compelled to +pay people to plant! Still however there is comfort; we <i>might</i> be worse +off; for the Turks made the Tartars pay a tax called <i>tooth-money</i>; that +is to say, they eat up the victuals of the Tartars, and then made them +pay for the <i>use of their teeth</i>. No man can say that we are come quite +to that yet: and, besides, the poor Tartars had no <span class="smcaplc">DEBT</span>, no blessed Debt +to hold out hope to them.</p> + +<p>The same person (a very civil and intelligent man) that showed me the +nursery, took me, in my way, back, through some plantations of <i>oaks</i>, +which have been made amongst fir-trees. It was, indeed, a plantation of +Scotch firs, about twelve years old, in rows, at six feet apart. Every +third row of firs was left, and oaks were (about six years ago) planted +instead of the firs that were grubbed up; and the winter shelter, that +the oaks have received from the remaining firs, has made them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> grow very +finely, though the land is poor. Other oaks planted in the <i>open, twenty +years</i> ago, and in land deemed better, are not nearly so good. However, +these oaks, between the firs, will take fifty or sixty good years to +make them timber, and, until they be <i>timber</i>, they are of very little +use; whereas the same ground, planted with Locusts (and the <i>hares</i> of +“my lords” kept down), would, at this moment, have been worth fifty +pounds an acre. What do “my lords” care about this? <i>For them</i>, for “my +lords,” the New Forest would be no better than it is now; no, nor <i>so +good</i> as it is now; for there would be no hares for them.</p> + +<p>From New Park, I was bound to Beaulieu Abbey, and I ought to have gone +in a south-easterly direction, instead of going back to Lyndhurst, which +lay in precisely the opposite direction. My guide through the +plantations was not apprised of my intended route, and, therefore, did +not instruct me. Just before we parted, he asked me <i>my name</i>: I thought +it lucky that he had not asked it before! When we got nearly back to +Lyndhurst, we found that we had come three miles out of our way; indeed, +it made six miles altogether; for we were, when we got to Lyndhurst, +three miles further from Beaulieu Abbey than we were when we were at New +Park. We wanted, very much, to go to the site of this ancient and famous +Abbey, of which the people of the New Forest seemed to know very little. +They call the place <i>Bewley</i>, and even in the maps it is called +<i>Bauley</i>. <i>Ley</i>, in the Saxon language, means <i>place</i>, or rather <i>open +place</i>; so that they put <i>ley</i> in place of <i>lieu</i>, thus beating the +Normans out of some part of the name at any rate. I wished, besides, to +see a good deal of this New Forest. I had been, before, from Southampton +to Lyndhurst, from Lyndhurst to Lymington, from Lymington to Sway. I had +now come in on the north of Minstead from Romsey, so that I had seen the +north of the Forest and all the west side of it, down to the sea. I had +now been to New Park and had got back to Lyndhurst; so that, if I rode +across the Forest down to Beaulieu, I went right across the middle of +it, from north-west to south-east. Then, if I turned towards +Southampton, and went to Dipten and on to Ealing, I should see, in fact, +the whole of this Forest, or nearly the whole of it.</p> + +<p>We therefore started, or, rather, turned away from Lyndhurst, as soon as +we got back to it, and went about six miles over a heath, even worse +than Bagshot-Heath; as barren as it is possible for land to be. A little +before we came to the village of Beaulieu (which, observe, the people +call <i>Beuley</i>), we went through a wood, chiefly of beech, and that beech +seemingly destined to grow food for pigs, of which we saw, during this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> +day, many, many thousands. I should think that we saw at least a hundred +hogs to one deer. I stopped, at one time, and counted the hogs and pigs +just round about me, and they amounted to 140, all within 50 or 60 yards +of my horse. After a very pleasant ride, on land without a stone in it, +we came down to the Beaulieu river, the highest branch of which rises at +the foot of a hill, about a mile and a half to the north-east of +Lyndhurst. For a great part of the way down to Beaulieu it is a very +insignificant stream. At last, however, augmented by springs from the +different sand-hills, it becomes a little river, and has, on the sides +of it, lands which were, formerly, very beautiful meadows. When it comes +to the village of Beaulieu, it forms a large pond of a great many acres; +and on the east side of this pond is the spot where this famous Abbey +formerly stood, and where the external walls of which, or a large part +of them, are now actually standing. We went down on the western side of +the river. The Abbey stood, and the ruins stand, on the eastern side.</p> + +<p>Happening to meet a man, before I got into the village, I, pointing with +my whip across towards the Abbey, said to the man, “I suppose there is a +bridge down here to get across to the Abbey.” “That’s not the Abbey, +Sir,” says he: “the Abbey is about four miles further on.” I was +astonished to hear this; but he was very positive; said that some people +called it the Abbey; but that the Abbey was further on; and was at a +farm occupied by farmer John Biel. Having chapter and verse for it, as +the saying is, I believed the man; and pushed on towards farmer John +Biel’s, which I found, as he had told me, at the end of about four +miles. When I got there (not having, observe, gone over the water to +ascertain that the other was the spot where the Abbey stood), I really +thought, at first, that this must have been the site of the Abbey of +Beaulieu; because, the name meaning <i>fine place</i>, this was a thousand +times finer place than that where the Abbey, as I afterwards found, +really stood. After looking about it for some time, I was satisfied that +it had not been an Abbey; but the place is one of the finest that ever +was seen in this world. It stands at about half a mile’s distance from +the water’s edge at high-water mark, and at about the middle of the +space along the coast, from Calshot castle to Lymington haven. It +stands, of course, upon a rising ground; it has a gentle slope down to +the water. To the right, you see Hurst castle, and that narrow passage +called the Needles, I believe; and, to the left, you see Spithead, and +all the ships that are sailing or lie anywhere opposite Portsmouth. The +Isle of Wight is right before you, and you have in view, at one and the +same time, the towns of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> Yarmouth, Newton, Cowes and Newport, with all +the beautiful fields of the island, lying upon the side of a great bank +before, and going up the ridge of hills in the middle of the island. +Here are two little streams, nearly close to the ruin, which filled +ponds for fresh-water fish; while there was the Beaulieu river at about +half a mile or three quarters of a mile to the left, to bring up the +salt-water fish. The ruins consist of part of the walls of a building +about 200 feet long and about 40 feet wide. It has been turned into a +barn, in part, and the rest into cattle-sheds, cow-pens, and inclosures +and walls to inclose a small yard. But there is another ruin, which was +a church or chapel, and which stands now very near to the farm-house of +Mr. John Biel, who rents the farm of the Duchess of Buccleugh, who is +now the owner of the abbey-lands and of the lands belonging to this +place. The little church or chapel, of which I have just been speaking, +appears to have been a very beautiful building. A part only of its walls +is standing; but you see, by what remains of the arches, that it was +finished in a manner the most elegant and expensive of the day in which +it was built. Part of the outside of the building is now surrounded by +the farmer’s garden: the interior is partly a pig-stye and partly a +goose-pen. Under that arch which had once seen so many rich men bow +their heads, we entered into the goose-pen, which is by no means one of +the <i>nicest</i> concerns in the world. Beyond the goose-pen was the +pig-stye, and in it a hog, which, when fat, will weigh about 30 score, +actually rubbing his shoulders against a little sort of column which had +supported the font and its holy water. The farmer told us that there was +a hole, which, indeed, we saw, going down into the wall, or rather, into +the column where the font had stood. And he told us that many attempts +had been made to bring water to fill that hole, but that it never had +been done.</p> + +<p>Mr. Biel was very civil to us. As far as related to us, he performed the +office of hospitality, which was the main business of those who formerly +inhabited the spot. He asked us to dine with him, which we declined, for +want of time; but, being exceedingly hungry, we had some bread and +cheese and some very good beer. The farmer told me that a great number +of gentlemen had come there to look at that place; but that he never +could find out what the place had been, or what the place at Beuley had +been. I told him that I would, when I got to London, give him an account +of it; that I would write the account down, and send it down to him. He +seemed surprised that I should make such a promise, and expressed his +wish not to give me so much trouble. I told him not to say a word about +the matter, for that his bread and cheese and beer were so good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> that +they deserved a full history to be written of the place where they had +been eaten and drunk. “God bless me, Sir, no, no!” I said, I will, upon +my soul, farmer. I now left him, very grateful on our part for his +hospitable reception, and he, I dare say, hardly being able to believe +his own ears, at the generous promise that I had made him, which +promise, however, I am now about to fulfil. I told the farmer a little, +upon the spot, to begin with. I told him that the name was all wrong: +that it was no <i>Beuley</i> but <i>Beaulieu</i>; and that Beaulieu meant <i>fine +place</i>; and I proved this to him, in this manner. You know, said I, +farmer, that when a girl has a sweet-heart, people call him her <i>beau</i>? +Yes, said he, so they do. Very well. You know, also, that we say, +sometimes, you shall have this in <i>lieu</i> of that; and that when we say +<i>lieu</i>, we mean in <i>place</i> of that. Now the <i>beau</i> means <i>fine</i>, as +applied to the young man, and the <i>lieu</i> means <i>place</i>; and thus it is, +that the name of this place is <i>Beaulieu</i>, as it is so fine as you see +it is. He seemed to be wonderfully pleased with the discovery; and we +parted, I believe, with hearty good wishes on his part, and, I am sure, +with very sincere thanks on my part.</p> + +<p>The Abbey of Beaulieu was founded in the year 1204, by King John, for +thirty monks of the reformed Benedictine Order. It was dedicated to the +blessed Virgin Mary; it flourished until the year 1540, when it was +suppressed, and the lands confiscated, in the reign of Henry VIII. Its +revenues were, at that time, <i>four hundred and twenty-eight pounds, six +shillings and eight pence a year</i>, making, in money of the present day, +upwards of <i>eight thousand five hundred pounds</i> a year. The lands and +the abbey, and all belonging to it, were granted by the king, to one +Thomas Wriothesley, who was a court-pander of that day. From him it +passed by sale, by will, by marriage or by something or another, till, +at last, it has got, after passing through various hands, into the hands +of the Duchess of Buccleugh. So much for the abbey; and, now, as for the +ruins on the farm of Mr. John Biel: they were the dwelling-place of +Knights’ Templars, or Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. The building +they inhabited was called an Hospital, and their business was to relieve +travellers, strangers, and persons in distress; and, if called upon, to +accompany the king in his wars to uphold christianity. Their estate was +also confiscated by Henry VIII. It was worth, at the time of being +confiscated, upwards of <i>two thousand pounds a year</i>, money of the +present day. This establishment was founded a little before the Abbey of +Beaulieu was founded; and it was this foundation and not the other that +gave the name of Beaulieu to both establishments. The Abbey is not +situated in a very fine place. The situation is low; the lands above it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> +rather a swamp than otherwise; pretty enough altogether; but by no means +a fine place. The Templars had all the reason in the world to give the +name of Beaulieu to their place. And it is by no means surprising that +the monks were willing to apply it to their Abbey.</p> + +<p>Now, farmer John Biel, I dare say that you are a very good Protestant; +and I am a monstrous good Protestant too. We cannot bear the Pope, nor +“they there priests that makes men confess their sins and go down upon +their marrow-bones before them.” But, master Biel, let us give the devil +his due; and let us not act worse by those Roman Catholics (who +by-the-bye were our forefathers) than we are willing to act by the devil +himself. Now then, here were a set of monks, and also a set of Knights’ +Templars. Neither of them could marry; of course, neither of them could +have wives and families. They could possess no private property; they +could bequeath nothing; they could own nothing; but that which they +owned in common with the rest of their body. They could hoard no money; +they could save nothing. Whatever they received, as rent for their +lands, they must necessarily spend upon the spot, for they never could +quit that spot. They did spend it all upon the spot: they kept all the +poor; Beuley, and all round about Beuley, saw no misery, and had never +heard the damned name of pauper pronounced, as long as those monks and +Templars continued! You and I are excellent Protestants, farmer John +Biel; you and I have often assisted on the 5th of November to burn Guy +Fawkes, the Pope and the Devil. But, you and I, farmer John Biel, would +much rather be life holders under monks and Templars, than rack-renters +under duchesses. The monks and the knights were the <i>lords</i> of their +manors; but the farmers under them were not rack-renters; the farmers +under them held by lease of lives, continued in the same farms from +father to son for hundreds of years; they were real yeomen, and not +miserable rack-renters, such as now till the land of this once happy +country, and who are little better than the drivers of the labourers, +for the profit of the landlords. Farmer John Biel, what the Duchess of +Buccleugh does, you know, and I do not. She may, for anything that I +know to the contrary, leave her farms on lease of lives, with rent so +very moderate and easy, as for the farm to be half as good as the +farmer’s own, at any rate. The Duchess may, for anything that I know to +the contrary, feed all the hungry, clothe all the naked, comfort all the +sick, and prevent the hated name of <i>pauper</i> from being pronounced in +the district of Beuley; her Grace may, for anything that I know to the +contrary, make poor-rates to be wholly unnecessary and unknown in your +country; she may receive, lodge, and feed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> stranger; she may, in +short, employ the rents of this fine estate of Beuley, to make the whole +district happy; she may not carry a farthing of the rents away from the +spot; and she may consume, by herself, and her own family and servants, +only just as much as is necessary to the preservation of their life and +health. Her Grace may do all this; I do not say or insinuate that she +does not do it all; but, Protestant here or Protestant there, farmer +John Biel, this I do say, that unless her Grace do all this, the monks +and the Templars were better for Beuley than her Grace.</p> + +<p>From the former station of the Templars, from real Beaulieu of the New +Forest, we came back to the village of Beaulieu, and there crossed the +water to come on towards Southampton. Here we passed close along under +the old abbey walls, a great part of which are still standing. There is +a mill here which appears to be turned by the fresh water, but the fresh +water falls, here, into the salt water, as at the village of Botley. We +did not stop to go about the ruins of the abbey; for you seldom make +much out by minute inquiry. It is the political history of these places; +or, at least, their connexion with political events, that is +interesting. Just about the banks of this little river, there are some +woods and coppices, and some corn-land; but, at the distance of half a +mile from the water-side, we came out again upon the intolerable heath, +and went on for seven or eight miles over that heath, from the village +of Beaulieu to that of Marchwood. Having a list of trees and enclosed +lands away to our right all the way along, which list of trees from the +south-west side of that arm of the sea which goes from Chalshot castle +to Redbridge, passing by Southampton, which lies on the north-east side. +Never was a more barren tract of land than these seven or eight miles. +We had come seven miles across the forest in another direction in the +morning; so that a poorer spot than this New Forest, there is not in all +England; nor, I believe, in the whole world. It is more barren and +miserable than Bagshot heath. There are less fertile spots in it, in +proportion to the extent of each. Still, it is so large, it is of such +great extent, being, if moulded into a circle, not so little, I believe, +as 60 or 70 miles in circumference, that it must contain some good spots +of land, and, if properly and honestly managed, those spots must produce +a prodigious quantity of timber. It is a pretty curious thing, that, +while the admirers of the paper-system are boasting of our “<i>waust +improvements Ma’am</i>,” there should have been such a visible and such an +enormous dilapidation in all the solid things of the country. I have, in +former parts of this ride, stated, that, in some counties, while the +parsons have been pocketing the amount of the tithes and of the glebe,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> +they have suffered the parsonage-houses either to fall down and to be +lost, brick by brick, and stone by stone, or to become such miserable +places as to be unfit for anything bearing the name of a gentleman to +live in; I have stated, and I am at any time ready to prove, that, in +some counties, this is the case in more than one half of the parishes!</p> + +<p>And now, amidst all these “waust improvements,” let us see how the +account of timber stands in the New Forest! In the year 1608, a survey +of the timber, in the New Forest, was made, when there were loads of oak +timber fit for the navy, 315,477. Mark that, reader. Another survey was +taken in the year 1783; that is to say, in the glorious Jubilee reign. +And, when there were, in this same New Forest, loads of oak timber fit +for the navy, 20,830. “Waust improvements, Ma’am,” under “the Pilot that +weathered the storm,” and in the reign of Jubilee! What the devil, some +one would say, could have become of all this timber? Does the reader +observe that there were three hundred and fifteen thousand, four hundred +and seventy-seven <i>loads</i>? and does he observe that a load is <i>fifty-two +cubic feet</i>? Does the reader know what is the price of this load of +timber? I suppose it is now, taking in lop, top and bark, and bought +upon the spot (timber fit for the navy, mind!), ten pounds a load at the +least. But let us suppose that it has been, upon an average, since the +year 1608, just the time that the Stuarts were mounting the throne; let +us suppose that it has been, on an average, four pounds a load. Here is +a pretty tough sum of money. This must have gone into the pockets of +somebody. At any rate, if we had the same quantity of timber now that we +had when the Protestant Reformation took place, or even when Old Betsy +turned up her toes, we should be now three millions of money richer than +we are; not in <i>bills</i>; not in notes payable to bearer on demand; not in +Scotch “cash credits;” not, in short, in lies, falseness, impudence, +downright blackguard cheatery and mining shares and “Greek cause” and +the devil knows what.</p> + +<p>I shall have occasion to return to this New Forest, which is, in +reality, though, in general, a very barren district, a much more +interesting object to Englishmen than are the services of my Lord +Palmerston, and the warlike undertakings of Burdett, Galloway and +Company; but I cannot quit this spot, even for the present, without +asking the Scotch population-mongers and Malthus and his crew, and +especially George Chalmers, if he should yet be creeping about upon the +face of the earth, what becomes of all their notions of the scantiness +of the ancient population of England; what becomes of all these notions, +of all their bundles of ridiculous lies about the fewness of the people +in former times;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span> what becomes of them all, if historians have told us +one word of truth, with regard to the formation of the New Forest, by +William the Conqueror. All the historians say, every one of them says, +that this King destroyed several populous towns and villages in order to +make this New Forest.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RIDE: FROM WESTON, NEAR SOUTHAMPTON, TO KENSINGTON.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Western Grove, 18th Oct. 1826.</i></p> + +<p>I broke off abruptly, under this same date, in my last Register, when +speaking of William the Conqueror’s demolishing of towns and villages to +make the New Forest; and I was about to show that all the historians +have told us lies the most abominable about this affair of the New +Forest; or, that the Scotch writers on population, and particularly +Chalmers, have been the greatest of fools, or the most impudent of +impostors. I, therefore, now resume this matter, it being, in my +opinion, a matter of great interest, at a time, when, in order to +account for the present notoriously <i>bad living</i> of the people of +England, it is asserted, that they are become greatly more numerous than +they formerly were. This would be no defence of the Government, even if +the fact were so; but, as I have, over and over again, proved, the fact +is false; and, to this I challenge denial, that either churches and +great mansions and castles were formerly made without hands; or, England +was, seven hundred years ago, much more populous than it is now. But +what has the formation of the New Forest to do with this? A great deal; +for the historians tell us that, in order to make this Forest, William +the Conqueror destroyed “many populous towns and villages, and +thirty-six parish churches!” The devil he did! How <i>populous</i>, then, +good God, must England have been at that time, which was about the year +1090; that is to say, 736 years ago! For, the Scotch will hardly contend +that the <i>nature of the soil</i> has been changed for the worse since that +time, especially as it has not been cultivated. No, no; <i>brassy</i> as they +are, they will not do that. Come, then, let us see how this matter +stands.</p> + +<p>This Forest has been crawled upon by favourites, and is now much smaller +than it used to be. A time may, and <i>will</i> come, for inquiring HOW +George Rose, and others, became <i>owners</i> of some of the very best parts +of this once-public property; a time for such inquiry <i>must</i> come, +before the people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> of England will ever give their consent to <i>a +reduction of the interest of the debt</i>! But this we know, that the New +Forest formerly extended, westward, from the Southampton Water and the +River Oux, to the River Avon, and northward, from Lymington Haven to the +borders of Wiltshire. We know that this was its utmost extent; and we +know, also, that the towns of Christchurch, Lymington, Ringwood, and +Fordingbridge, and the villages of Bolder, Fawley, Lyndhurst, Dipden, +Eling, Minsted, and all the other villages that now have churches; we +know, I say (and, pray mark it), that all these towns and villages +existed before the Norman Conquest: because the <i>Roman names</i> of several +of them (all the towns) are in print, and because an account of them all +is to be found in <i>Doomsday Book</i>, which was made by this very William +the Conqueror. Well, then, now Scotch population-liars, and you +Malthusian blasphemers, who contend that God has implanted in man a +<i>principle</i> that <i>leads him to starvation</i>; come, now, and face this +history of the New Forest. Cooke, in his Geography of Hampshire, says, +that the Conqueror destroyed here “many populous towns and villages, and +thirty-six parish churches.” The same writer says, that, in the time of +Edward the Confessor (<i>just</i> before the Conqueror came), “two-thirds of +the Forest was inhabited and cultivated.” Guthrie says nearly the same +thing. But let us hear the two historians, who are now pitted against +each other, Hume and Lingard. The former (vol. II. p. 277) says: “There +was one pleasure to which William, as well as all the Normans and +ancient Saxons, was extremely addicted, and that was hunting: but this +pleasure he indulged more at the expense of his unhappy subjects, whose +interests he always disregarded, than to the loss or diminution of his +own revenue. Not content with those large forests, which former Kings +possessed, in all parts of England, he resolved to make a new Forest, +near Winchester, the usual place of his residence: and, for that +purpose, he <i>laid waste</i> the county of Hampshire, <i>for an extent of +thirty miles, expelled the inhabitants</i> from their houses, seized their +property, even <i>demolished churches and convents</i>, and made the +sufferers no compensation for the injury.” Pretty well for a pensioned +Scotchman: and now let us hear Dr. Lingard, to prevent his Society from +<i>presenting whose work to me</i>, the sincere and pious Samuel Butler was +ready to go down upon his <i>marrow bones</i>; let us hear the good Doctor +upon this subject. He says (vol. I. pp. 452 and 453), “Though the King +possessed sixty-eight forests, besides parks and chases, in different +parts of England, he was not yet satisfied, but for the occasional +accommodation of his court, afforested an <i>extensive tract of country</i> +lying between the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> city of Winchester and the sea coast. The +<i>inhabitants were expelled</i>: the cottages and the <i>churches were burnt</i>; +and more than <i>thirty square miles</i> of a <i>rich and populous</i> district +were <i>withdrawn from cultivation</i>, and converted into a <i>wilderness</i>, to +afford sufficient range for the deer, and ample space for the royal +diversion. The memory of this act of despotism has been perpetuated in +the name of the New Forest, which it retains at the present day, after +the lapse of seven hundred and fifty years.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Historians</i>” should be careful how they make statements relative to +<i>places</i> which are within the scope of the reader’s <i>inspection</i>. It is +next to impossible not to believe that the Doctor has, in this case (a +very interesting one), merely <i>copied</i> from <span class="smcap">Hume</span>. Hume says, that the +King “<i>expelled</i> the inhabitants;” and Lingard says “the inhabitants +<i>were expelled</i>;” Hume says that the King “<i>demolished</i> the churches;” +and Lingard says that “the churches were <i>burnt</i>;” but Hume says, +churches “and <i>convents</i>,” and Lingard <i>knew</i> that to be a lie. The +Doctor was too learned upon the subject of “<i>convents</i>” to follow the +Scotchman here. Hume says that the King “laid <i>waste</i> the country for an +<i>extent of thirty miles</i>.” “The Doctor says that a district of <i>thirty +square miles</i> was withdrawn from cultivation, and converted into a +<i>wilderness</i>.” Now, what <span class="smcap">Hume</span> meaned by the loose phrase, “an <i>extent of +thirty miles</i>,” I cannot say; but this I know, that Dr. Lingard’s +“thirty square miles” is a piece of ground only five and a half miles +each way! So that the Doctor has got here a curious “<i>district</i>,” and a +not less curious “<i>wilderness</i>;” and what number of <i>churches</i> could +<span class="smcap">William</span> find to <i>burn</i>, in a space five miles and a half each way? If +the Doctor meaned thirty <i>miles square</i>, instead of <i>square miles</i>, the +falsehood is so monstrous as to destroy his credit for ever; for here we +have Nine Hundred Square Miles, containing <i>five hundred and seventy-six +thousand acres of land</i>; that is to say, 56,960 acres more than are +contained in the whole of the county of Surrey, and 99,840 acres more +than are contained in the whole of the county of Berks! This is +“<i>history</i>,” is it! And these are “<i>historians</i>.”</p> + +<p>The true statement is this: the New Forest, according to its ancient +state, was bounded thus: by the line, going from the river Oux to the +river Avon, and which line there separates Wiltshire from Hampshire; by +the river Avon; by the sea from Christchurch to Calshot Castle; by the +Southampton Water; and by the river Oux. These are the boundaries; and +(as any one may, by scale and compass, ascertain), there are, within +these boundaries, about 224 square miles, containing 143,360 acres of +land. Within these limits there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> are now remaining eleven parish +churches, all of which were in existence before the time of William the +Conqueror; so that, if he destroyed thirty-six parish churches, what a +populous country this must have been! There must have been forty-seven +parish churches; so that there was, over this whole district, one parish +church to every four and three quarters square miles! Thus, then, the +churches must have stood, on an average, at within one mile and about +two hundred yards of each other! And observe, the parishes could, on an +average, contain no more, each, than 2,966 acres of land! Not a very +large farm; so that here was a parish church to every large farm, unless +these historians are all fools and liars.</p> + +<p>I defy any one to say that I make hazardous assertions: I have plainly +described the ancient boundaries: there are <i>the maps</i>: any one can, +with scale and compass, measure the area as well as I can. I have taken +the statements of historians, as they call themselves: I have shown that +their histories, as they call them, are fabulous; <span class="smcaplc">OR</span> (and mind this +<i>or</i>) that England was, at one time, and that too, eight hundred years +ago, <i>beyond all measure more populous than it is now</i>. For, observe, +notwithstanding what Dr. Lingard asserts; notwithstanding that he +describes this district as “<i>rich</i>,” it is the very poorest in the whole +kingdom. Dr. Lingard was, I believe, born and bred at Winchester; and +how, then, could he be so careless; or, indeed, so regardless of truth +(and I do not see why I am to mince the matter with him), as to describe +this as a <i>rich district</i>? Innumerable persons have seen +<i>Bagshot-Heath</i>; great numbers have seen the barren heaths between +London and Brighton; great numbers, also, have seen that wide sweep of +barrenness which exhibits itself between the Golden Farmer Hill and +Black-water. Nine-tenths of each of these are less barren than +four-fifths of the land in the New Forest. Supposing it to be credible +that a man so prudent and so wise as William the Conqueror; supposing +that such a man should have pitched upon a <i>rich</i> and <i>populous</i> +district wherewith to make a chase; supposing, in short, these +historians to have spoken the truth, and supposing this barren land to +have been all inhabited and cultivated, and the people so numerous and +so rich as to be able to build and endow a parish church upon every four +and three quarters square miles upon this extensive district; supposing +them to have been so rich in the produce of the soil as to want a priest +to be stationed at every mile and 200 yards, in order to help them to +eat it; supposing, in a word, these historians not to be the most +farcical liars that ever put pen upon paper, this country must, at the +time of the Norman conquest, have literally <i>swarmed</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> with people; for, +<i>there is the land now</i>, and all the land, too: neither Hume nor Dr. +Lingard can change the nature of that. There it is, an acre of it not +having, upon an average, so much of productive capacity in it as one +single square rod, taking the average, of Worcestershire; and if I were +to say one single <i>square yard</i>, I should be right; there is the land; +and if that land were as these historians say it was, covered with +people and with churches, what the devil must Worcestershire have been! +To this, then, we come at last: having made out what I undertook to +show; namely, that the historians, as they call themselves, are either +the greatest fools or the greatest liars that ever existed, or that +England was beyond all measure more populous eight hundred years ago +than it is now.</p> + +<p>Poor, however, as this district is, and culled about as it has been for +the best spots of land by those favourites who have got grants of land +or leases or something or other, still there are some spots here and +there which would grow trees; but never will it grow trees, or anything +else <i>to the profit of this nation</i>, until it become <i>private property</i>. +Public property must, in some cases, be in the hands of public officers; +but this is not an affair of that nature. This is too loose a concern; +too little controllable by superiors. It is a thing calculated for +jobbing, above all others; calculated to promote the success of +favouritism. Who can imagine that the persons employed about plantations +and farms for the public, are employed because <i>they are fit</i> for the +employment? Supposing the <ins class="correction" title="original: conmissioners">commissioners</ins> to hold in abhorrence the idea +of paying for services to themselves under the name of paying for +services to the public; supposing them never to have heard of such a +thing in their lives, can they imagine that nothing of this sort takes +place, while they are in London eleven months out of twelve in the year? +I never feel disposed to cast much censure upon any of the persons +engaged in such concerns. The temptation is too great to be resisted. +The public must pay for everything <i>à pois d’or</i>. Therefore, no such +thing should be in the hands of the public, or, rather, of the +government; and I hope to live to see this thing completely taken out of +the hands of this government.</p> + +<p>It was night-fall when we arrived at Eling, that is to say, at the head +of the Southampton Water. Our horses were very hungry. We stopped to +bait them, and set off just about dusk to come to this place (Weston +Grove), stopping at Southampton on our way, and leaving a letter to come +to London. Between Southampton and this place, we cross a bridge over +the Itchen river, and, coming up a hill into a common, which is called +Town-hill Common, we passed, lying on our right, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> little park and +house, occupied by the Irish Bible-man, Lord Ashdown, I think they call +him, whose real name is French, and whose family are so very <i>well +known</i> in the most unfortunate sister-kingdom. Just at the back of his +house, in another sort of paddock-place, lives a man, whose name I +forget, who was, I believe, a coachmaker in the East Indies, and whose +father, or uncle, kept a turnpike gate at Chelsea, a few years ago. See +the effects of “<i>industry</i> and <i>enterprise</i>”! But even these would be +nothing, were it not for this wondrous system by which money can be +snatched away from the labourer in this very parish, for instance, sent +off to the East Indies, there help to make a mass to put into the hands +of an adventurer, and then the mass may be brought back in the pockets +of the adventurer and cause him to be called a ’Squire by the labourer +whose earnings were so snatched away! Wondrous system! Pity it cannot +last for ever! Pity that it has got a Debt of a thousand millions to +pay! Pity that it cannot turn paper into gold! Pity that it will make +such fools of Prosperity Robinson and his colleagues!</p> + +<p>The moon shone very bright by the time that we mounted the hill; and +now, skirting the enclosures upon the edge of the common, we passed +several of those cottages which I so well recollected, and in which I +had the satisfaction to believe that the inhabitants were sitting +comfortably with bellies full by a good fire. It was eight o’clock +before we arrived at Mr. Chamberlayne’s, whom I had not seen since, I +think, the year 1816; for in the fall of that year I came to London, and +I never returned to Botley (which is only about three miles and a half +from Weston) to stay there for any length of time. To those who like +water-scenes (as nineteen-twentieths of people do) it is the prettiest +spot, I believe, in all England. Mr. Chamberlayne built the house about +twenty years ago. He has been bringing the place to greater and greater +perfection from that time to this. All round about the house is in the +neatest possible order. I should think that, altogether, there cannot be +so little as <i>ten acres of short grass</i>; and when I say <i>that</i>, those +who know anything about gardens will form a pretty correct general +notion as to the <i>scale</i> on which the thing is carried on. Until of +late, Mr. Chamberlayne was owner of only a small part, comparatively, of +the lands hereabouts. He is now the owner, I believe, of the whole of +the lands that come down to the water’s edge and that lie between the +ferry over the Itchen at Southampton, and the river which goes out from +the Southampton Water at Hamble. And now let me describe, as well as I +can, what this land and its situation are.</p> + +<p>The Southampton Water begins at Portsmouth, and goes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span> up by Southampton, +to Redbridge, being, upon an average, about two miles wide, having, on +the one side, the New Forest, and on the other side, for a great part of +the way, this fine and beautiful estate of Mr. Chamberlayne. Both sides +of this water have rising lands divided into hill and dale, and very +beautifully clothed with trees, the woods and lawns and fields being +most advantageously intermixed. It is very curious that, at the <i>back</i> +of each of these tracts of land, there are extensive heaths, on this +side as well as on the New Forest side. To stand here and look across +the water at the New Forest, you would imagine that it was really <i>a +country of woods</i>; for you can see nothing of the heaths from here; +those heaths over which we rode, and from which we could see a windmill +down among the trees, which windmill is now to be seen just opposite +this place. So that the views from this place are the most beautiful +that can be imagined. You see up the water and down the water, to +Redbridge one way and out to Spithead the other way. Through the trees, +to the right, you see the spires of Southampton, and you have only to +walk a mile, over a beautiful lawn and through a not less beautiful +wood, to find, in a little dell, surrounded with lofty woods, the +venerable ruins of <i>Netley Abbey</i>, which make part of Mr. Chamberlayne’s +estate.</p> + +<p>The woods here are chiefly of oak; the ground consists of a series of +hill and dale, as you go long-wise from one end of the estate to the +other, <i>about six miles in length</i>. Down almost every little valley that +divides these hills or hillocks, there is more or less of water, making +the underwood, in those parts, very thick, and dark to go through; and +these form the most delightful contrast with the fields and lawns. There +are innumerable vessels of various sizes continually upon the water; +and, to those that delight in water-scenes, this is certainly the very +prettiest place that I ever saw in my life. I had seen it many years +ago; and, as I intended to come here on my way home, I told George, +before we set out, that I would show him <i>another Weston</i> before we got +to London. The parish in which his father’s house is, is also called +Weston, and a very beautiful spot it certainly is; but I told him I +questioned whether I could not show him a still prettier Weston than +that. We let him alone for the first day. He sat in the house, and saw +great multitudes of pheasants and partridges upon the lawn before the +window: he went down to the water-side by himself, and put his foot upon +the ground to see the tide rise. He seemed very much delighted. The +second morning, at breakfast, we put it to him, which he would rather +have; this Weston or the Weston he had left in Herefordshire; but, +though I introduced the question in a way almost to extort a decision in +favour of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span> Hampshire Weston, he decided instantly and plump for the +other, in a manner very much to the delight of Mr. Chamberlayne and his +sister. So true it is that, when people are uncorrupted, they always +<i>like home best</i>, be it, in itself, what it may.</p> + +<p>Everything that nature can do has been done here; and money most +judiciously employed has come to her assistance. Here are a thousand +things to give pleasure to any rational mind; but there is one thing, +which, in my estimation, surpasses, in pleasure, to contemplate, all the +lawns and all the groves and all the gardens and all the game and +everything else; and that is, the real, unaffected goodness of the owner +of this estate. He is a member for Southampton; he has other fine +estates; he has great talents; he is much admired by all who know him; +but he has done more by his justice, by his just way of thinking with +regard to the labouring people, than in all other ways put together. +This was nothing new to me; for I was well informed of it several years +ago, though I had never heard him speak of it in my life. When he came +to this place, the common wages of day-labouring men were <i>thirteen +shillings a week</i>, and the wages of carpenters, bricklayers, and other +tradesmen, were in proportion. Those wages he <i>has given, from that time +to this</i>, without any abatement whatever. With these wages, a man can +live, having, at the same time, other advantages attending the working +for such a man as Mr. Chamberlayne. He has got less money in his bags +than he would have had, if he had ground men down in their wages; but if +his sleep be not sounder than that of the hard-fisted wretch that can +walk over grass and gravel, kept in order by a poor creature that is +half-starved; if his sleep be not sounder than the sleep of such a +wretch, then all that we have been taught is false, and there is no +difference between the man who feeds and the man who starves the poor: +all the Scripture is a bundle of lies, and instead of being propagated +it ought to be flung into the fire.</p> + +<p>It is curious enough that those who are the least disposed to give good +wages to the labouring people, should be the most disposed to discover +for them <i>schemes for saving their money</i>! I have lately seen, I saw it +at Uphusband, a prospectus, or scheme, for establishing what they call a +<i>County Friendly Society</i>. This is a scheme for getting from the poor a +part of the wages that they receive. Just as if a poor fellow could <i>put +anything by</i> out of eight shillings a week! If, indeed, the schemers +were to pay the labourers twelve or thirteen shillings a week; then +these might have something to lay by at some times of the year; but +then, indeed, there would be <i>no poor-rates wanted</i>; and it is to <i>get +rid of the poor-rates</i> that these schemers have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> invented their society. +What wretched drivellers they must be: to think that they should be able +to make the pauper keep the pauper; to think that they shall be able to +make the man that is half-starved lay by part of his loaf! I know of no +county where the poor are worse treated than in many parts of this +county of Hants. It is happy to know of one instance in which they are +well treated; and I deem it a real honour to be under the roof of him +who has uniformly set so laudable an example in this most important +concern. What are all his riches to me? They form no title to my +respect. ’Tis not for me to set myself up in judgment as to his taste, +his learning, his various qualities and endowments; but of these his +unequivocal works I am a competent judge. I know how much good he must +do; and there is a great satisfaction in reflecting on the great +happiness that he must feel, when, in laying his head upon his pillow of +a cold and dreary winter night, he reflects that there are scores, aye, +scores upon scores, of his country-people, of his poor neighbours, of +those whom the Scripture denominates his brethren, who have been +enabled, through him, to retire to a warm bed after spending a cheerful +evening and taking a full meal by the side of their own fire. People may +talk what they will about <i>happiness</i>; but I can figure to myself no +happiness surpassing that of the man who falls to sleep with reflections +like these in his mind.</p> + +<p>Now observe, it is a duty, on my part, to relate what I have here +related as to the conduct of Mr. Chamberlayne; not a duty towards <i>him</i>; +for I can do him no good by it, and I do most sincerely believe, that +both he and his equally benevolent sister would rather that their +goodness remained unproclaimed; but it is a duty towards my country, and +particularly towards my readers. Here is a striking and a most valuable +practical example. Here is a whole neighbourhood of labourers living as +they ought to live; enjoying that happiness which is the just reward of +their toil. And shall I suppress facts so honourable to those who are +the cause of this happiness, facts so interesting in themselves, and so +likely to be useful in the way of example; shall I do this, aye, and, +besides this, <i>tacitly</i> give a <i>false account</i> of Weston Grove, and +this, too, from the stupid and cowardly fear of being accused of +flattering a rich man?</p> + +<p>Netley Abbey ought, it seems, to be called Letley Abbey, the Latin name +being Lætus Locus, or Pleasant Place. <i>Letley</i> was made up of an +abbreviation of the <i>Lætus</i> and of the Saxon word <i>ley</i>, which meaned +<i>place</i>, <i>field</i>, or <i>piece of ground</i>. This Abbey was founded by Henry +III. in 1239, for 12 Monks of the Benedictine order; and when suppressed +by the wife-killer, its revenues amounted to 3,200<i>l.</i> a year of our +present money. The possessions of these monks were, by the wife-killing +founder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> of the Church of England, given away (though they belonged to +the public) to one of his court sycophants, Sir William Paulet, a man +the most famous in the whole world for sycophancy, time-serving, and for +all those qualities which usually distinguish the favourites of kings +like the wife-killer. This Paulet changed from the Popish to Henry the +Eighth’s religion, and was a great actor in punishing the papists; when +Edward VI. came to the throne, this Paulet turned protestant, and was a +great actor in punishing those who adhered to Henry VIIIth’s religion: +when Queen Mary came to the throne, this Paulet turned back to papist, +and was one of the great actors in sending protestants to be burnt in +Smithfield: when Old Bess came to the throne, this Paulet turned back to +protestant again, and was, until the day of his death, one of the great +actors in persecuting, in fining, in mulcting, and in putting to death +those who still had the virtue and the courage to adhere to the religion +in which they and he had been born and bred. The <i>head</i> of this family +got, at last, to be Earl of Wiltshire, Marquis of Winchester, and Duke +of Bolton. This last title is now <i>gone</i>; or, rather, it is changed to +that of “Lord Bolton,” which is now borne by a man of the name of Orde, +who is the son of a man of that name, who died some years ago, and who +married a daughter (I think it was) of the last “Duke of Bolton.”</p> + +<p>Pretty curious, and not a little interesting, to look back at the +<i>origin</i> of this Dukedom of Bolton, and, then, to look at the person now +bearing the title of <i>Bolton</i>; and, then, to go to Abbotston, near +Winchester, and survey the ruins of the proud palace, once inhabited by +the Duke of Bolton, which ruins, and the estate on which they stand, are +now the property of the Loan-maker, Alexander Baring! Curious turn of +things! Henry the wife-killer and his confiscating successors <i>granted</i> +the estates of Netley, and of many other monasteries, to the head of +these Paulets: to maintain these and other similar grants, a thing +called a “Reformation” was made: to maintain the “Reformation,” a +“Glorious Revolution” was made: to maintain the “Glorious Revolution” a +<i>Debt</i> was made: to maintain the Debt, a large part of the rents must go +to the Debt-Dealers, or Loan-makers: and thus, at last, the Barings, +only in this one neighbourhood, have become the successors of the +Wriothesleys, the Paulets, and the Russells, who, throughout all the +reigns of confiscation, were constantly <i>in the way</i>, when a +distribution of good things was taking place! Curious enough all this; +but, the thing will not <i>stop here</i>. The Loan-makers think that they +shall outwit the old grantee-fellows; and so they might, and the people +too, and the devil himself; but they cannot out-wit <i>events</i>. Those +events <i>will have a thorough <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span>rummaging</i>; and of this fact the +“turn-of-the-market” gentlemen may be assured. Can it be <i>law</i> (I put +the question to <i>lawyers</i>), can it be <i>law</i> (I leave reason and justice +out of the inquiry), can it be <i>law</i>, that, if I, to-day, see dressed in +good clothes, and with a full purse, a man who was notoriously penniless +yesterday; can it be law, that I (being a justice of the peace) have a +right to demand of that man <i>how he came by his clothes and his purse</i>? +And, can it be <i>law</i>, that I, seeing with an estate a man who was +notoriously not worth a crown piece a few years ago, and who is +notoriously related to nothing more than one degree above beggary; can +it be <i>law</i>, that I, a magistrate, seeing this, have not a right to +demand of this man how he came by his estate? No matter, however; for, +if both these be law now, they will not, I trust, be law in a few years +from this time.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chamberlayne has caused the ancient <i>fish-ponds</i>, at Netley Abbey, +to be “reclaimed,” as they call it. What a loss, what a national loss, +there has been in this way, and in the article of water fowl! I am quite +satisfied that, in these two articles and in that of <i>rabbits</i>, the +nation has lost, has had annihilated (within the last 250 years) food +sufficient for two days in the week, on an average, taking the year +throughout. These are things, too, which cost so little labour! You can +see the marks of old fish-ponds in thousands and thousands of places. I +have noticed, I dare say, five hundred, since I left home. A trifling +expense would, in most cases, restore them; but now-a-days all is looked +for at shops: all is to be had by trafficking: scarcely any one thinks +of providing for his own wants out of his own land and other his own +domestic means. To buy the thing, <i>ready made</i>, is the taste of the day; +thousands, who are housekeepers, buy their dinners ready cooked; nothing +is so common as to rent breasts for children to suck: a man actually +advertised, in the London papers, about two month ago, to supply +childless husbands with heirs! In this case the articles were, of +course, to be <i>ready made</i>; for to make them “to order” would be the +devil of a business; though in desperate cases even this is, I believe, +sometimes resorted to.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Hambledon, Sunday,<br />22nd Oct. 1826.</i></p> + +<p>We left Weston Grove on Friday morning, and came across to Botley, where +we remained during the rest of the day, and until after breakfast +yesterday. I had not seen “the Botley Parson” for several years, and I +wished to have a look at him now, but could not get a sight of him, +though we rode close before his house, at much about his breakfast time, +and though we gave him the strongest of invitation that could be +expressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> by hallooing and by cracking of whips! The fox was too +cunning for us, and do all we could, we could not provoke him to put +even his nose out of kennel. From Mr. James Warner’s at Botley we went +to Mr. Hallett’s, at Allington, and had the very great pleasure of +seeing him in excellent health. We intended to go back to Botley, and +then to go to Titchfield, and, in our way to this place, over Portsdown +Hill, whence I intended to show George the harbour and the fleet, and +(of still more importance) the spot on which we signed the “Hampshire +Petition,” in 1817; that petition which foretold that which the “Norfolk +Petition” confirmed; that petition which will be finally acted upon, +or.... That petition was the very <i>last thing that I wrote at Botley</i>. I +came to London in November 1816; the Power-of-Imprisonment Bill was +passed in February, 1817; just before it was passed, the Meeting took +place on Portsdown Hill; and I, in my way to the hill from London, +stopped at Botley and wrote the petition. We had one meeting afterwards +at Winchester, when I heard parsons swear like troopers, and saw one of +them hawk up his spittle, and spit it into Lord Cochrane’s poll! Ah! my +bucks, we have you <i>now</i>! You are got nearly to the end of your tether; +and, what is more, <i>you know it</i>. Pay off the Debt, parsons! It is +useless to swear and spit, and to present addresses applauding +Power-of-Imprisonment Bills, unless you can pay off the Debt! Pay off +the Debt, parsons! They say you can <i>lay</i> the devil. Lay <i>this</i> devil, +then; or, confess that he is too many for you; aye, and for Sturges +Bourne, or Bourne Sturges (I forget which), at your backs!</p> + +<p>From Arlington, we, fearing that it would rain before we could get round +by Titchfield, came across the country over Waltham Chase and Soberton +Down. The chase was very green and fine; but the down was the very +greenest thing that I have seen in the whole country. It is not a large +down; perhaps not more than five or six hundred acres; but the land is +good, the chalk is at a foot from the surface, or more; the mould is a +hazel mould; and when I was upon the opposite hill, I could, though I +knew the spot very well, hardly believe that it was a down. The green +was darker than that of any pasture or even any sainfoin or clover that +I had seen throughout the whole of my ride; and I should suppose that +there could not have been many less than a thousand sheep in the three +flocks that were feeding upon the down when I came across it. I do not +speak with anything like positiveness as to the measurement of this +down; but I do not believe that it exceeds six hundred and fifty acres. +They must have had more rain in this part of the country than in most +other parts of it. Indeed, no part of Hampshire seems to have suffered +very much from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> the drought. I found the turnips pretty good, of both +sorts, all the way from Andover to Rumsey. Through the New Forest, you +may as well expect to find loaves of bread growing in fields as turnips, +where there are any fields for them to grow in. From Redbridge to +Weston, we had not light enough to see much about us; but when we came +down to Botley, we there found the turnips as good as I had ever seen +them in my life, as far I could judge from the time I had to look at +them. Mr. Warner has as fine turnip fields as I ever saw him have, +Swedish turnips and white also; and pretty nearly the same may be said +of the whole of that neighbourhood for many miles round.</p> + +<p>After quitting Soberton Down, we came up a hill leading to Hambledon, +and turned off to our left to bring us down to Mr. Goldsmith’s at West +End, where we now are, at about a mile from the village of Hambledon. A +village it <i>now</i> is; but it was formerly a considerable market-town, and +it had three fairs in the year. There is now not even the name of market +left, I believe; and the fairs amount to little more than a couple or +three gingerbread-stalls, with dolls and whistles for children. If you +go through the place, you see that it has been a considerable town. The +church tells the same story; it is now a tumble-down rubbishy place; it +is partaking in the fate of all those places which were formerly a sort +of rendezvous for persons who had things to buy and things to sell. +<i>Wens</i> have devoured market-towns and villages; and <i>shops</i> have +devoured <i>markets and fairs</i>; and this, too, to the infinite injury of +the most numerous classes of the people. Shop-keeping, merely as +shop-keeping, is injurious to any community. What are the shop and the +shop-keeper for? To receive and distribute the produce of the land. +There are other articles, certainly; but the main part is the produce of +the land. The shop must be paid for; the shop-keeper must be kept; and +the one must be paid for and the other must be kept by the consumer of +the produce; or, perhaps, partly by the consumer and partly by the +producer.</p> + +<p>When fairs were very frequent, shops were not needed. A manufacturer of +shoes, of stockings, of hats; of almost any thing that man wants, could +manufacture at home in an obscure hamlet, with cheap house-rent, good +air, and plenty of room. He need pay no heavy rent for shop; and no +disadvantages from confined situation; and, then, by attending three or +four or five or six fairs in a year, he sold the work of his hands, +unloaded with a heavy expense attending the keeping of a shop. He would +get more for ten shillings in a booth at a fair or market, than he would +get in a shop for ten or twenty pounds. Of course he could afford to +sell the work of his hands for less; and thus a greater portion of their +earnings remained with those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> raised the food and the clothing from +the land. I had an instance of this in what occurred to myself at +Weyhill fair. When I was at Salisbury, in September, I wanted to buy a +whip. It was a common hunting-whip, with a hook to it to pull open gates +with, and I could not get it for less than seven shillings and sixpence. +This was more than I had made up my mind to give, and I went on with my +switch. When we got to Weyhill fair, George had made shift to lose his +whip some time before, and I had made him go without one by way of +punishment. But now, having come to the fair, and seeing plenty of +whips, I bought him one, just such a one as had been offered me at +Salisbury for seven and sixpence, for four and sixpence; and, seeing the +man with his whips afterwards, I thought I would have one myself; and he +let me have it for three shillings. So that, here were two whips, +precisely of the same kind and quality as the whip at Salisbury, bought +for the money which the man at Salisbury asked me for one whip. And yet, +far be it from me to accuse the man at Salisbury of an attempt at +extortion: he had an expensive shop, and a family in a town to support, +while my Weyhill fellow had been making his whips in some house in the +country, which he rented, probably for five or six pounds a year, with a +good garden to it. Does not every one see, in a minute, how this +exchanging of fairs and markets for shops creates <i>idlers and +traffickers</i>; creates those locusts, called middle-men, who create +nothing, who add to the value of nothing, who improve nothing, but who +live in idleness, and who live well, too, out of the labour of the +producer and the consumer. The fair and the market, those wise +institutions of our forefathers, and with regard to the management of +which they were so scrupulously careful; the fair and the market bring +the producer and the consumer in contact with each other. Whatever is +gained is, at any rate, gained by one or the other of these. The fair +and the market bring them together, and enable them to act for their +mutual interest and convenience. The shop and the trafficker keeps them +apart; the shop hides from both producer and consumer the real state of +matters. The fair and the market lay everything open: going to either, +you see the state of things at once; and the transactions are fair and +just, not disfigured, too, by falsehood, and by those attempts at +deception which disgrace traffickings in general.</p> + +<p>Very wise, too, and very just, were the laws against <i>forestalling</i> and +<i>regrating</i>. They were laws to prevent the producer and the consumer +from being cheated by the trafficker. There are whole bodies of men; +indeed, a very large part of the community, who live in idleness in this +country, in consequence of the whole current of the laws now running in +favour of the trafficking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span> monopoly. It has been a great object with all +wise governments, in all ages, from the days of Moses to the present +day, to confine trafficking, mere trafficking, to as few hands as +possible. It seems to be the main object of this government to give all +possible encouragement to traffickers of every description, and to make +them swarm like the lice of Egypt. There is that numerous sect, the +Quakers. This sect arose in England: they were engendered by the Jewish +system of usury. Till <i>excises</i> and <i>loanmongering</i> began, these vermin +were never heard of in England. They seem to have been hatched by that +fraudulent system, as maggots are bred by putrid meat, or as the +flounders come in the livers of rotten sheep. The base vermin do not +pretend to work: all they talk about is dealing; and the government, in +place of making laws that would put them in the stocks, or cause them to +be whipped at the cart’s tail, really seem anxious to encourage them and +to increase their numbers; nay, it is not long since Mr. Brougham had +the effrontery to move for leave to bring in a bill to make men liable +to be hanged upon the bare word of these vagabonds. This is, with me, +something never to be forgotten. But everything tends the same way: all +the regulations, all the laws that have been adopted of late years, have +a tendency to give encouragement to the trickster and the trafficker, +and to take from the labouring classes all the honour and a great part +of the food that fairly belonged to them.</p> + +<p>In coming along yesterday, from Waltham Chase to Soberton Down, we +passed by a big white house upon a hill that was, when I lived at +Botley, occupied by one Goodlad, who was a cock justice of the peace, +and who had been a chap of some sort or other, in <i>India</i>. There was a +man of the name of Singleton, who lived in Waltham Chase, and who was +deemed to be a great poacher. This man, having been forcibly ousted by +the order of this Goodlad and some others from an encroachment that he +had made in the forest, threatened revenge. Soon after this, a horse (I +forget to whom it belonged) was stabbed or shot in the night-time in a +field. Singleton was taken up, tried at Winchester, convicted and +<i>transported</i>. I cannot relate exactly what took place. I remember that +there were some curious circumstances attending the conviction of this +man. The people in that neighbourhood were deeply impressed with these +circumstances. Singleton was transported; but Goodlad and his wife were +both dead and buried, in less, I believe, than three months after the +departure of poor Singleton. I do not know that any injustice really was +done; but I do know that a great impression was produced, and a very +sorrowful impression, too, on the minds of the people in that +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>I cannot quit Waltham Chase without observing, that I heard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span> last year, +that a Bill was about to be petitioned for, to enclose that Chase! Never +was so monstrous a proposition in this world. The Bishop of Winchester +is Lord of the Manor over this Chase. If the Chase be enclosed, the +timber must be cut down, young and old; and here are a couple of hundred +acres of land, worth ten thousand acres of land in the New Forest. This +is as fine timber land as any in the wealds of Surrey, Sussex or Kent. +There are two enclosures of about 40 acres each, perhaps, that were +simply surrounded by a bank being thrown up about twenty years ago, only +twenty years ago, and on the poorest part of the Chase, too; and these +are now as beautiful plantations of young oak trees as man ever set his +eyes on; many of them as big or bigger round than my thigh! Therefore, +besides the sweeping away of two or three hundred cottages; besides +plunging into ruin and misery all these numerous families, here is one +of the finest pieces of timber land in the whole kingdom, going to be +cut up into miserable clay fields, for no earthly purpose but that of +gratifying the stupid greediness of those who think that they must gain, +if they add to the breadth of their private fields. But if a thing like +this be permitted, we must be prettily furnished with Commissioners of +woods and forests! I do not believe that they will sit in Parliament and +see a Bill like this passed and hold their tongues; but if they were to +do it, there is no measure of reproach which they would not merit. Let +them go and look at the two plantations of oaks, of which I have just +spoken; and then let them give their consent to such a Bill if they can.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Thursley, Monday Evening,<br />23rd October.</i></p> + +<p>When I left Weston, my intention was, to go from Hambledon to Up Park, +thence to Arundel, thence, to Brighton, thence to East-bourne, thence to +Wittersham in Kent, and then by Cranbrook, Tunbridge, Godstone and +Reigate to London; but when I got to Botley, and particularly when I got +to Hambledon, I found my horse’s back so much hurt by the saddle, that I +was afraid to take so long a stretch, and therefore resolved to come +away straight to this place, to go hence to Reigate, and so to London. +Our way, therefore, this morning, was over Butser-hill to Petersfield, +in the first place; then to Lyphook and then to this place, in all about +twenty-four miles. Butser-hill belongs to the back chain of the South +Downs; and, indeed, it terminates that chain to the westward. It is the +highest hill in the whole country. Some think that Hindhead, which is +the famous sand-hill over which the Portsmouth road goes at sixteen +miles to the north of this great chalk-hill; some think that Hindhead is +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span> highest hill of the two. Be this as it may, Butser-hill, which is +the right-hand hill of the two between which you go at three miles from +Petersfield going towards Portsmouth; this Butser-hill, is, I say, quite +high enough; and was more than high enough for us, for it took us up +amongst clouds that wet us very nearly to the skin. In going from Mr. +Goldsmith’s to the hill, it is all up hill for five miles. Now and then +a little stoop; not much; but regularly, with these little exceptions, +up hill for these five miles. The hill appears, at a distance, to be a +sharp ridge on its top. It is, however, not so. It is, in some parts, +half a mile wide or more. The road lies right along the middle of it +from west to east, and, just when you are at the highest part of the +hill, it is very narrow from north to south; not more, I think, than +about a hundred or a hundred and thirty yards.</p> + +<p>This is as interesting a spot, I think, as the foot of man ever was +placed upon. Here are two valleys, one to your right and the other to +your left, very little less than half a mile down to the bottom of them, +and much steeper than a tiled roof of a house. These valleys may be, +where they join the hill, three or four hundred yards broad. They get +wider as they get farther from the hill. Of a clear day you see all the +north of Hampshire; nay, the whole county, together with a great part of +Surrey and of Sussex. You see the whole of the South Downs to the +eastward as far as your eye can carry you; and, lastly, you see over +Portsdown Hill, which lies before you to the south; and there are spread +open to your view the isle of Portsea, Porchester, Wimmering, Fareham, +Gosport, Portsmouth, the harbour, Spithead, the Isle of Wight and the +ocean.</p> + +<p>But something still more interesting occurred to me here in the year +1808, when I was coming on horseback over the same hill from Botley to +London. It was a very beautiful day and in summer. Before I got upon the +hill (on which I had never been before), a shepherd told me to keep on +in the road in which I was, till I came to the London turnpike road. +When I got to within a quarter of a mile of this particular point of the +hill, I saw, at this point, what I thought was a cloud of dust; and, +speaking to my servant about it, I found that he thought so too; but +this cloud of dust disappeared all at once. Soon after, there appeared +to arise another cloud of dust at the same place, and then that +disappeared, and the spot was clear again. As we were trotting along, a +pretty smart pace, we soon came to this narrow place, having one valley +to our right and the other valley to our left, and, there, to my great +astonishment, I saw the clouds come one after another, each appearing to +be about as big as two or three acres of land, skimming along in the +valley on the north side, a great deal below the tops of the hills; and +successively,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span> as they arrived at our end of the valley, rising up, +crossing the narrow pass, and then descending down into the other valley +and going off to the south; so that we who sate there upon our horses, +were alternately in clouds and in sunshine. It is an universal rule, +that if there be a fog in the morning, and that fog go from the valleys +to the tops of the hills, there will be rain that day; and if it +disappear by sinking in the valley, there will be no rain that day. The +truth is, that fogs are clouds, and clouds are fogs. They are more or +less full of water; but they are all water; sometimes a sort of steam, +and sometimes water that falls in drops. Yesterday morning the fogs had +ascended to the tops of the hills; and it was raining on all the hills +round about us before it began to rain in the valleys. We, as I observed +before, got pretty nearly wet to the skin upon the top of Butser-hill; +but we had the pluck to come on and let the clothes dry upon our backs.</p> + +<p>I must here relate something that appears very interesting to me, and +something, which, though it must have been seen by every man that has +lived in the country, or, at least, in any hilly country, has never been +particularly mentioned by anybody as far as I can recollect. We +frequently talk of clouds coming from <i>dews</i>; and we actually see the +heavy fogs become clouds. We see them go up to the tops of hills, and, +taking a swim round, actually come and drop down upon us and wet us +through. But I am now going to speak of clouds coming out of the sides +of hills in exactly the same manner that you see smoke come out of a +tobacco pipe, and rising up, with a wider and wider head, like the smoke +from a tobacco-pipe, go to the top of the hill or over the hill, or very +much above it, and then come over the valleys in rain. At about a mile’s +distance from Mr. Palmer’s house at Bollitree, in Herefordshire, there +is a large, long beautiful wood, covering the side of a lofty hill, +winding round in the form of a crescent, the bend of the crescent being +towards Mr. Palmer’s house. It was here that I first observed this mode +of forming clouds. The first time I noticed it, I pointed it out to Mr. +Palmer. We stood and observed cloud after cloud come out from different +parts of the side of the hill, and tower up and go over the hill out of +sight. He told me that that was a certain sign that it would rain that +day, for that these clouds would come back again, and would fall in +rain. It rained sure enough; and I found that the country people, all +round about, had this mode of the forming of the clouds as a sign of +rain. The hill is called Penyard, and this forming of the clouds they +call Old Penyard’s <i>smoking his pipe</i>; and it is a rule that it is sure +to rain during the day if Old Penyard smokes his pipe in the morning. +These appearances take place, especially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span> in warm and sultry weather. It +was very warm yesterday morning: it had thundered violently the evening +before: we felt it hot even while the rain fell upon us at Butser-hill. +Petersfield lies in a pretty broad and very beautiful valley. On three +sides of it are very lofty hills, partly downs and partly covered with +trees: and, as we proceeded on our way from the bottom of Butser-hill to +Petersfield, we saw thousands upon thousands of clouds, continually +coming puffing out from different parts of these hills and towering up +to the top of them. I stopped George several times to make him look at +them; to see them come puffing out of the chalk downs as well as out of +the woodland hills; and bade him remember to tell his father of it when +he should get home, to convince him that the hills of Hampshire could +smoke their pipes as well as those of Herefordshire. This is a really +curious matter. I have never read, in any book, anything to lead me to +suppose that the observation has ever found its way into print before. +Sometimes you will see only one or two clouds during a whole morning, +come out of the side of a hill; but we saw thousands upon thousands, +bursting out, one after another, in all parts of these immense hills. +The first time that I have leisure, when I am in the high countries +again, I will have a conversation with some old shepherd about this +matter; if he cannot enlighten me upon the subject, I am sure that no +philosopher can.</p> + +<p>We came through Petersfield without stopping, and baited our horses at +Lyphook, where we stayed about half an hour. In coming from Lyphook to +this place, we overtook a man who asked for relief. He told me he was a +weaver, and, as his accent was northern, I was about to give him the +balance that I had in hand arising from our savings in the fasting way, +amounting to about three shillings and sixpence; but, unfortunately for +him, I asked him what place he had lived at as a weaver; and he told me +that he was a Spitalfields weaver. I instantly put on my glove and +returned my purse into my pocket, saying, go, then, to Sidmouth and Peel +and the rest of them “and get relief; for I have this minute, while I +was stopping at Lyphook, read in the <i>Evening Mail</i> newspaper, an +address to the King from the Spitalfields’ weavers, for which address +they ought to suffer death from starvation. In that address those base +wretches tell the King, that they were loyal men: that they detested the +designing men who were guilty of seditious practices in 1817; they, in +short, express their approbation of the Power-of-imprisonment Bill, of +all the deeds committed against the Reformers in 1817 and 1819; they, by +fair inference, express their approbation of the thanks given to the +Manchester Yeomanry. You are one of them; my name is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> William Cobbett, +and I would sooner relieve a dog than relieve you.” Just as I was +closing my harangue, we overtook a country-man and woman that were going +the same way. The weaver attempted explanations. He said that they only +said it in order to get relief; but that they did not mean it in their +hearts. “Oh, base dogs!” said I: “it is precisely by such men that ruin +is brought upon nations; it is precisely by such baseness and +insincerity, such scandalous cowardice, that ruin has been brought upon +them. I had two or three shillings to give you; I had them in my hand: I +have put them back into my purse: I trust I shall find somebody more +worthy of them: rather than give them to you, I would fling them into +that sand-pit and bury them for ever.”</p> + +<p>How curiously things happen! It was by mere accident that I took up a +newspaper to read: it was merely because I was compelled to stay a +quarter of an hour in the room without doing anything, and above all +things it was miraculous that I should take up the <i>Evening Mail</i>, into +which, I believe, I never before looked, in my whole life. I saw the +royal arms at the top of the paper; took it for the <i>Old Times</i>, and, in +a sort of lounging mood, said to George, “Give me hold of that paper, +and let us see what that foolish devil Anna Brodie says.” Seeing the +words “<i>Spitalfields</i>,” I read on till I got to the base and scoundrelly +part of the address. I then turned over, and looked at the title of the +paper and the date of it, resolving, in my mind, to have satisfaction, +of some sort or other, upon these base vagabonds. Little did I think +that an opportunity would so soon occur of showing my resentment against +them, and that, too, in so striking, so appropriate, and so efficient a +manner. I dare say, that it was some tax-eating scoundrel who drew up +this address (which I will insert in the Register, as soon as I can find +it); but that is nothing to me and my fellow sufferers of 1817 and 1819. +This infamous libel upon us is published under the name of the +Spitalfields weavers; and, if I am asked what the poor creatures were to +do, being without bread as they were, I answer by asking whether they +could find no knives to cut their throats with; seeing that they ought +to have cut their throats ten thousand times over, if they could have +done it, rather than sanction the publication of so infamous a paper as +this.</p> + +<p>It is not thus that the weavers in the north have acted. Some scoundrel +wanted to inveigle them into an applauding of the Ministers; but they, +though nothing so infamous as this address was proposed to them, +rejected the proposition, though they were ten times more in want than +the weavers of Spitalfields have ever been. They were only called upon +to applaud the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> Ministers for the recent Orders in Council; but they +justly said that the Ministers had a great deal more to do, before they +would merit their applause. What would these brave and sensible men have +said to a tax-eating scoundrel, who should have called upon them to +present an address to the King, and in that address to applaud the +terrible deeds committed against the people in 1817 and 1819! I have +great happiness in reflecting that this baseness of the Spitalfields +weavers will not bring them one single mouthful of bread. This will be +their lot; this will be the fruit of their baseness: and the nation, the +working classes of the nation, will learn, from this, that the way to +get redress of their grievances, the way to get food and raiment in +exchange for their labour, the way to ensure good treatment from the +Government, is not to crawl to that Government, to lick its hands, and +seem to deem it an honour to be its slaves.</p> + +<p>Before we got to Thursley, I saw three poor fellows getting in turf for +their winter fuel, and I gave them a shilling apiece. To a boy at the +bottom of Hindhead, I gave the other sixpence, towards buying him a pair +of gloves; and thus I disposed of the money which was, at one time, +actually out of my purse, and going into the hand of the loyal +Spitalfields weaver.</p> + +<p>We got to this place (Mr. Knowles’s of Thursley) about 5 o’clock in the +evening, very much delighted with our ride.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Kensington, Thursday, 26th Oct.</i></p> + +<p>We left Mr. Knowles’s on Thursday morning, came through Godalming, +stopped at Mr. Rowland’s at Chilworth, and then came on through Dorking +to Colley Farm, near Reigate, where we slept. I have so often described +the country from Hindhead to the foot of Reigate Hill, and from the top +of Reigate Hill to the Thames, that I shall not attempt to do it again +here. When we got to the river Wey, we crossed it from Godalming +Pismarsh to come up to Chilworth. I desired George to look round the +country, and asked him if he did not think it was very pretty. I put the +same question to him when we got into the beautiful neighbourhood of +Dorking, and when we got to Reigate, and especially when we got to the +tip-top of Reigate Hill, from which there is one of the finest views in +the whole world; but ever after our quitting Mr. Knowles’s, George +insisted that that was the prettiest country that we had seen in the +course of our whole ride, and that he liked Mr. Knowles’s place better +than any other place that he had seen. I reminded him of Weston Grove; +and I reminded him of the beautiful ponds and grass and plantations at +Mr. Leach’s; but he still persisted in his judgment in favour of Mr. +Knowles’s place, in which decision,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span> however, the greyhounds and the +beagles had manifestly a great deal to do.</p> + +<p>From Thursley to Reigate inclusive, on the chalk-side as well as on the +sand-side, the crops of turnips, of both kinds, were pretty nearly as +good as I ever saw them in my life. On a farm of Mr. Drummond’s at +Aldbury, rented by a farmer Peto, I saw a piece of cabbages, of the +large kind, which will produce, I should think, not much short of five +and twenty tons to the acre; and here I must mention (I do not know +<i>why</i> I must, by the bye) an instance of my own skill in measuring land +by the eye. The cabbages stand upon half a field and on the part of it +furthest from the road where we were. We took the liberty to open the +gate and ride into the field, in order to get closer to the cabbages to +look at them. I intended to notice this piece of cabbages, and I asked +George how much ground he thought there was in the piece. He said, <i>two +acres</i>: and asked me how much I thought. I said that there were <i>above +four acres</i>, and that I should not wonder if there were <i>four acres and +a half</i>. Thus divided in judgment, we turned away from the cabbages to +go out of the field at another gate, which pointed towards our road. +Near this gate we found a man turning a heap of manure. This man, as it +happened, had hoed the cabbages by the acre, or had had a hand in it. We +asked him how much ground there was in that piece of cabbages, and he +told us, <i>four acres and a half</i>! I suppose it will not be difficult to +convince the reader that George looked upon me as a sort of conjuror. At +Mr. Pym’s, at Colley farm, we found one of the very finest pieces of +mangel wurzel that I had ever seen in my life. We calculated that there +would be little short of <i>forty tons to the acre</i>; and there being three +acres to the piece, Mr. Pym calculates that this mangel wurzel, the +produce of these three acres of land, will carry his ten or twelve +milch-cows nearly, if not wholly, through the winter. There did not +appear to be a spurious plant, and there was not one plant that had gone +to seed, in the whole piece. I have never seen a more beautiful mass of +vegetation, and I had the satisfaction to learn, after having admired +the crop, that the seed came from my own shop, and that it had been +saved by myself.</p> + +<p>Talking of the shop, I came to it in a very few hours after looking at +this mangel wurzel; and I soon found that it was high time for me to get +home again; for here had been pretty devils’ works going on. Here I +found the “Greek cause,” and all its appendages, figuring away in grand +style. But I must make this matter of separate observation.</p> + +<p>I have put an end to my Ride of August, September, and October, 1826, +during which I have travelled five hundred and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span> sixty-eight miles, and +have slept in thirty different beds, having written three monthly +pamphlets, called the “Poor Man’s Friend,” and have also written +(including the present one) eleven Registers. I have been in three +cities, in about twenty market towns, in perhaps five hundred villages; +and I have seen the people nowhere so well off as in the neighbourhood +of Weston Grove, and nowhere so badly off as in the dominions of the +Select Vestry of Hurstbourn Tarrant, commonly called Uphusband. During +the whole of this ride, I have very rarely been a-bed after day-light; I +have drunk neither wine nor spirits. I have eaten no vegetables, and +only a very moderate quantity of meat; and, it may be useful to my +readers to know, that the riding of twenty miles was not so fatiguing to +me at the end of my tour as the riding of ten miles was at the beginning +of it. Some ill-natured fools will call this “<i>egotism</i>.” Why is it +egotism? Getting upon a good strong horse, and riding about the country +has no merit in it; there is no conjuration in it; it requires neither +talents nor virtues of any sort; but <i>health</i> is a very valuable thing; +and when a man has had the experience which I have had in this instance, +it is his duty to state to the world and to his own countrymen and +neighbours in particular, the happy effects of early rising, sobriety, +abstinence and a resolution to be active. It is his duty to do this: and +it becomes imperatively his duty, when he has seen, in the course of his +life, so many men; so many men of excellent hearts and of good talents, +rendered prematurely old, cut off ten or twenty years before their time, +by a want of that early rising, sobriety, abstinence and activity from +which he himself has derived so much benefit and such inexpressible +pleasure. During this ride I have been several times wet to the skin. At +some times of my life, after having indulged for a long while in codling +myself up in the house, these soakings would have frightened me half out +of my senses; but I care very little about them: I avoid getting wet if +I can; but it is very seldom that rain, come when it would, has +prevented me from performing the day’s journey that I had laid out +beforehand. And this is a very good rule: to stick to your intention +whether it be attended with inconveniences or not; to look upon yourself +as <i>bound</i> to do it. In the whole of this ride, I have met with no one +untoward circumstance, properly so called, except the wounding of the +back of my horse, which grieved me much more on his account than on my +own. I have a friend, who, when he is disappointed in accomplishing +anything that he has laid out, says that he has been <i>beaten</i>, which is +a very good expression for the thing. I was beaten in my intention to go +through Sussex and Kent; but I will retrieve the affair in a very few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span> +months’ time, or, perhaps, few weeks. The <span class="smcap">Collective</span> will be here now in +a few days; and as soon as I have got the Preston Petition fairly before +them, and find (as I dare say I shall) that the petition will not be +<i>tried</i> until February, I shall take my horse and set off again to that +very spot, in the London turnpike-road, at the foot of Butser-hill, +whence I turned off to go to Petersfield, instead of turning the other +way to go to Up Park: I shall take my horse and go to this spot, and, +with a resolution not to be beaten next time, go along through the whole +length of Sussex, and sweep round through Kent and Surrey till I come to +Reigate again, and then home to Kensington; for I do not like to be +beaten by horse’s sore back, or by anything else; and, besides that, +there are several things in Sussex and Kent that I want to see and give +an account of. For the present, however, farewell to the country, and +now for the Wen and its villanous corruptions.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>RURAL RIDE: TO TRING, IN HERTFORDSHIRE.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Barn-Elm Farm, 23rd Sept. 1829.</i></p> + +<p>As if to prove the truth of all that has been said in <i>The Woodlands</i> +about the impolicy of cheap planting, as it is called, Mr. Elliman has +planted another and larger field with a mixture of ash, locusts, and +larches; not upon <i>trenched</i> ground, but upon ground moved with the +plough. The larches made great haste to <i>depart this life</i>, bequeathing +to Mr. Elliman a very salutary lesson. The ash appeared to be alive, and +that is all: the locusts, though they had to share in all the +disadvantages of their neighbours, appeared, it seems, to be doing +pretty well, and had made decent shoots, when a neighbour’s sheep +invaded the plantation, and, being fond of the locust leaves and shoots, +as all cattle are, reduced them to mere stumps, as it were to put them +upon a level with the ash. In <i>The Woodlands</i>, I have strongly pressed +the necessity of effectual fences; without these, you plant and sow in +vain: you plant and sow the plants and seeds of disappointment and +mortification; and the earth, being always grateful, is sure to reward +you with a plentiful crop. One half acre of Mr. Elliman’s plantation of +locusts before-mentioned, time will tell him, is worth more than the +whole of the six or seven acres of this <i>cheaply</i> planted field.</p> + +<p>Besides the 25,000 trees which Mr. Elliman had from me, he had some (and +a part of them fine plants) which he himself had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> raised from seed, in +the manner described in <i>The Woodlands</i> under the head “Locust.” This +seed he bought from me; and, as I shall sell but a very few more locust +plants, I recommend gentlemen to sow the seed for themselves, according +to the directions given in <i>The Woodlands</i>, in paragraphs 383 to 386 +inclusive. In that part of <i>The Woodlands</i> will be found the most minute +directions for the sowing of this seed, and particularly in the +preparing of it for sowing; for, unless the proper precautions are taken +here, one seed out of one hundred will not come up; and, with the proper +precautions, one seed in one hundred will not fail to come up. I beg the +reader, who intends to sow locusts, to read with great care the latter +part of paragraph 368 of <i>The Woodlands</i>.</p> + +<p>At this town of Tring, which is a very pretty and respectable place, I +saw what reminded me of another of my endeavours to introduce useful +things into this country. At the door of a shop I saw a large <i>case</i>, +with the lid taken off, containing <i>bundles of straw for platting</i>. It +was straw of spring wheat, tied up in small bundles, with the ear on; +just such as I myself have grown in England many times, and bleached for +platting, according to the instructions so elaborately given in the last +edition of my <i>Cottage Economy</i>; and which instructions I was enabled to +give from the information collected by my son in America. I asked the +shopkeeper where he got this straw: he said, that it came from Tuscany; +and that it was manufactured there at Tring, and other places, for, as I +understood, some single individual master-manufacturer. I told the +shopkeeper, that I wondered that they should send to Tuscany for the +straw, seeing that it might be grown, harvested, and equally well +bleached at Tring; that it was now, at this time, grown, bleached, and +manufactured into bonnets in Kent; and I showed to several persons at +Tring a bonnet, made in Kent, from the straw of wheat grown in Kent, and +presented by that most public-spirited and excellent man, Mr. John Wood, +of Wettersham, who died, to the great sorrow of the whole country round +about him, three or four years ago. He had taken infinite pains with +this matter, had brought a young woman from Suffolk at his own expense, +to teach the children at Wettersham the whole of this manufacture from +beginning to end; and, before he died, he saw as handsome bonnets made +as ever came from Tuscany. At Benenden, the parish in which Mr. Hodges +resides, there is now a manufactory of the same sort, begun, in the +first place, under the benevolent auspices of that gentleman’s +daughters, who began by teaching a poor fellow who had been a cripple +from his infancy, who was living with a poor widowed mother, and who is +now the master of a school of this description, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span> the beautiful +villages of Benenden and Rolvenden, in Kent. My wife, wishing to have +her bonnet cleaned some time ago, applied to a person who performs such +work, at Brighton, and got into a conversation with her about the +<i>English Leghorn</i> bonnets. The woman told her that they looked very well +at first, but that they would not retain their colour, and added, “They +will not clean, ma’am, like this bonnet that you have.” She was left +with a request to clean that; and the result being the same as with all +Leghorn bonnets, she was surprised upon being told that that was an +“English Leghorn.” In short, there is no difference at all in the two; +and if these people at Tring choose to grow the straw instead of +importing it from Leghorn; and if they choose to make plat, and to make +bonnets just as beautiful and as lasting as those which come from +Leghorn, they have nothing to do but to read my Cottage Economy, +paragraph 224 to paragraph 234, inclusive, where they will find, as +plain as words can make it, the whole mass of directions for taking the +seed of the wheat, and converting the produce into bonnets. There they +will find directions, first, as to the sort of wheat; second, as to the +proper land for growing the wheat; third, season for sowing; fourth, +quantity of seed to the acre, and manner of sowing; fifth, season for +cutting the wheat; sixth, manner of cutting it; seventh, manner of +bleaching; eighth, manner of housing the straw; ninth, platting; tenth, +manner of knitting; eleventh, manner of pressing.</p> + +<p>I request my correspondents to inform me, if any one can, where I can +get some spring wheat. The botanical name of it is, <i>Triticum Æstivum</i>. +It is sown in the spring, at the same time that barley is; these Latin +words mean <i>summer wheat</i>. It is a small-grained, bearded wheat. I know, +from experience, that the little brown-grained winter wheat is just as +good for the purpose: but that must be sown earlier; and there is danger +of its being thinned on the ground, by worms and other enemies. I should +like to sow some this next spring, in order to convince the people of +Tring, and other places, that they need not go to Tuscany for the straw.</p> + +<p>Of “<i>Cobbett’s Corn</i>” there is no considerable piece in the +neighbourhood of Tring; but I saw some plants, even upon the high hill +where the locusts are growing, and which is very backward land, which +appeared to be about as forward as my own is at this time. If Mr. +Elliman were to have a patch of good corn by the side of his locust +trees, and a piece of spring wheat by the side of the corn, people might +then go and see specimens of the three great undertakings, or rather, +great additions to the wealth of the nation, introduced under the name +of <i>Cobbett</i>.</p> + +<p>I am the more desirous of introducing this manufacture at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> Tring on +account of the very marked civility which I met with at that place. A +very excellent friend of mine, who is professionally connected with that +town, was, some time ago, apprised of my intention of going thither to +see Mr. Elliman’s plantation. He had mentioned this intention to some +gentlemen of that town and neighbourhood; and I, to my great surprise, +found that a <i>dinner had been organized</i>, to which I was to be invited. +I never like to disappoint anybody; and, therefore, to this dinner I +went. The company consisted of about forty-five gentlemen of the town +and neighbourhood; and, certainly, though I have been at dinners in +several parts of England, I never found, even in Sussex, where I have +frequently been so delighted, a more sensible, hearty, entertaining, and +hospitable company than this. From me, something in the way of speech +was expected, as a matter of course; and though I was, from a cold, so +hoarse as not to be capable of making myself heard in a large place, I +was so pleased with the company, and with my reception, that, first and +last, I dare say I addressed the company for an hour and a half. We +dined at two, and separated at nine; and, as I declared at parting, for +many, many years, I had not spent a happier day. There was present the +editor, or some other gentleman, from the newspaper called <i>The Bucks +Gazette and General Advertiser</i>, who has published in his paper the +following account of what passed at the dinner. As far as the report +goes, it is substantially correct; and, though this gentleman went away +at a very early hour, that which he has given of my speech (which he has +given very judiciously) contains matter which can hardly fail to be +useful to great numbers of his readers.</p> + +<p class="center"><br />MR. COBBETT AT TRING.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Elliman, a draper at Tring, has lately formed a considerable +plantation of the locust tree, which Mr. Cobbett claims the merit of +having introduced into this country. The number he has planted is about +30,000, on five acres and a half of very indifferent land, and they have +thrived so uncommonly well, that not more than 500 of the whole number +have failed. The success of the plantation being made known to Mr. +Cobbett, induced him to pay a visit to Tring to inspect it, and during +his sojourn it was determined upon by his friends to give him a dinner +at the Rose and Crown Inn. Thursday was fixed for the purpose; when +about forty persons, agriculturists and tradesmen of Tring and the +neighbouring towns, assembled, and sat down to a dinner served up in +very excellent style, by Mr. Northwood, the landlord: Mr. Faithful, +solicitor, of Tring, is the chair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span>“The usual routine toasts having been given,</p> + +<p>“The Chairman said he was sure the company would drink the toast with +which he should conclude what he was about to say, with every mark of +respect. In addressing the company, he rose under feelings of no +ordinary kind, for he was about to give the health of a gentleman who +had the talent of communicating to his writings an energy and +perspicuity which he had never met with elsewhere; who conveyed +knowledge in a way so clear, that all who read could understand. He (the +Chairman) had read the Political Register, from the first of them to the +last, with pleasure and benefit to himself, and he would defy any man to +put his finger upon a single line which was not in direct support of a +kingly government. He advocated the rights of the people, but he always +expressed himself favourable to our ancient form of government; he +certainly had strongly, but not too strongly, attacked the corruption of +the government; but had never attacked its form or its just powers. As a +public writer, he considered him the most impartial that he knew. He +well recollected—he knew not if Mr. Cobbett himself recollected it—a +remarkable passage in his writings: he was speaking of the pleasure of +passing from censure to praise, and thus expressed himself. ‘It is +turning from the frowns of a surly winter, to welcome a smiling spring +come dancing over the daisied lawn, crowned with garlands, and +surrounded with melody.’ Nature had been bountiful to him; it had +blessed him with a constitution capable of enduring the greatest +fatigues; and a mind of superior order. Brilliancy, it was said, was a +mere meteor; it was so: it was the solidity and depth of understanding +such as he possessed, that were really valuable. He had visited this +place in consequence of a gentleman having been wise and bold enough to +listen to his advice, and to plant a large number of locust trees; and +he trusted he would enjoy prosperity and happiness, in duration equal to +that of the never-decaying wood of those trees. He concluded by giving +Mr. Cobbett’s health.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Cobbett returned thanks for the manner in which his health had been +drunk, and was certain that the trees which had been the occasion of +their meeting would be a benefit to the children of the planter. Though +it might appear like presumption to suppose that those who were +assembled that day came solely in compliment to him, yet it would be +affectation not to believe that it was expected he should say something +on the subject of politics. Every one who heard him was convinced that +there was something wrong, and that a change of some sort must take +place, or ruin to the country would ensue. Though there was a diversity +of opinions as to the cause of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> distress, and as to the means by +which a change might be effected, and though some were not so deeply +affected by it as others, all now felt that a change must take place +before long, whether they were manufacturers, brewers, butchers, bakers, +or of any other description of persons, they had all arrived at the +conviction that there must be a change. It would be presumptuous to +suppose that many of those assembled did not understand the cause of the +present distress, yet there were many who did not; and those gentlemen +who did, he begged to have the goodness to excuse him if he repeated +what they already knew. Politics was a science which they ought not to +have the trouble of studying; they had sufficient to do in their +respective avocations, without troubling themselves with such matters. +For what were the ministers, and a whole tribe of persons under them, +paid large sums of money from the country but for the purpose of +governing its political affairs. Their fitness for their stations was +another thing. He had been told that Mr. Huskisson was so ignorant of +the cause of the distress, that he had openly said, he should be glad if +any practical man would tell him what it all meant. If any man present +were to profess his ignorance of the cause of the distress it would be +no disgrace to him; he might be a very good butcher, a very good farmer, +or a very good baker: he might well understand the business by which he +gained his living; and if any one should say to him, because he did not +understand politics, ‘You are a very stupid fellow!’ he might fairly +reply, ‘What is that to you?’ But it was another thing to those who were +so well paid to manage the affairs of the country to plead ignorance of +the cause of the prevailing distress.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span><span class="spacer">*</span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Goulburn, with a string of figures as long as his arm, had +endeavoured to prove in the House of Commons that the withdrawal of the +one-pound notes, being altogether so small an amount, little more than +two millions, would be of no injury to the country, and that its only +effect would be to make bankers more liberal in discounting with their +fives. He would appeal to the company if they had found this to be the +case. Mr. Goulburn had forgotten that the one-pound notes were the legs +upon which the fives walked. He had heard the Duke of Wellington use the +same language in the other House. Taught, as they now were, by +experience, it would scarcely be believed, fifty years hence, that a set +of men could have been found with so little foresight as to have devised +measures so fraught with injury.</p> + +<p>“He felt convinced that if he looked to the present company, or any +other accidentally assembled, that he would find thirteen gentlemen more +fit to manage the affairs of the kingdom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span> than were those who now +presided at the head of Government; not that he imputed to them any +desire to do wrong, or that they were more corrupt than others; it was +clear, that with the eyes of the public upon them they must wish to do +right; it was owing to their sheer ignorance, their entire unfitness to +carry on the Government, that they did no better. Ignorance and +unfitness were, however, pleas which they had no business to make. It +was nothing to him if a man was ignorant and stupid, under ordinary +circumstances; but if he entrusted a man with his money, thinking that +he was intelligent, and was deceived, then it was something; he had a +right to say, ‘You are not what I took you for, you are an ignorant +fellow; you have deceived me, you are an impostor.’ Such was the +language proper to all under such circumstances: never mind their +titles!</p> + +<p>“A friend had that morning taken him to view the beautiful vale of +Aylesbury, which he had never before seen; and the first thought that +struck him, on seeing the rich pasture, was this, ‘Good God! is a +country like this to be ruined by the folly of those who govern it?’ +When he was a naughty boy, he used to say that if he wanted to select +Members for our Houses of Parliament, he would put a string across any +road leading <i>into</i> London, and that the first 1000 men that ran against +his string, he would choose for Members, and he would bet a wager that +they would be better qualified than those who now filled those Houses. +That was when he was a naughty boy; but since that time a Bill had been +passed which made it banishment for life to use language that brought +the Houses of Parliament into contempt, and therefore he did not say so +now. The Government, it should be recollected, had passed all these Acts +with the hearty concurrence of both Houses of Parliament; they were thus +backed by these Houses, and they were backed by ninety-nine out of one +hundred of the papers, which affected to see all their acts in +rose-colour, for no one who was in the habit of reading the papers, +could have anticipated, from what they there saw, the ruin which had +fallen on the country. Thus we had an ignorant Government, an ignorant +Parliament, and something worse than an ignorant press; the latter being +employed (some of them with considerable talent) to assail and turn into +ridicule those who had the boldness and honesty to declare their dissent +from the opinion of the wisdom of the measures of Government. It was no +easy task to stand, unmoved, their ridicule and sarcasms, and many were +thus deterred from expressing the sentiments of their minds. In this +country we had all the elements of prosperity; an industrious people, +such as were nowhere else to be found; a country, too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span> which was once +called the finest and greatest on the earth (for whatever might be said +of the country in comparison with others, the turnips of England were +worth more, this year, than all the vines of France). It was a glorious +and a great country until the Government had made it otherwise; and it +ought still to be what it once was, and to be capable to driving the +Russians back from the country of our old and best ally—the Turks. +During the time of war, we were told that it was necessary to make great +sacrifices to save us from disgrace. The people made those sacrifices; +they gave up their all. But had the Government done its part; had it +saved us from disgrace? No: we were now the laughing-stock of all other +countries. The French and all other nations derided us; and by and by it +would be seen that they would make a partition of Turkey with the +Russians, and make a fresh subject for laughter. Never since the time of +Charles had such disgrace been brought upon the country; and why was +this? When were we again to see the labourer receiving his wages from +the farmer instead of being sent on the road to break stones? Some +people, under this state of things, consoled themselves by saying things +would come about again; they had come about before, and would come about +again. They deceived themselves, things did not come about; the seasons +came about, it was true; but something must be <i>done</i> to bring things +about. Instead of the <i>neuter</i> verb (to speak as a grammarian) they +should use the <i>active</i>; they should not say things will <i>come</i> about, +but things must be <i>put</i> about. He thought that the distress would +shortly become so great, perhaps, about Christmas, that the +Parliamentary gentlemen, finding they received but a small part of their +rents, without which they could not do, any more than the farmer, +without his crops, would endeavour to bring them about; and the measures +they would propose for that purpose, as far as he could judge, would be +Bank restriction, and the re-issue of one-pound notes, and what the +effect of that would be they would soon see. One of those persons who +were so profoundly ignorant, would come down to the House prepared to +propose a return to Bank restriction and the issue of small notes, and a +bill to that effect would be passed. If such a bill did pass, he would +advise all persons to be cautious in their dealings; it would be +perilous to make bargains under such a state of things. Money was the +measure of value; but if this measure was liable to be three times as +large at one time as at another, who could know what to do? how was any +one to know how to purchase wheat, if the bushel was to be altered at +the pleasure of the Government to three times its present size? The +remedy for the evils of the country was not to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span> found in palliatives; +it was not to be found in strong measures. The first step must be taken +in the House of Commons, but that was almost hopeless; for although many +persons possessed the right of voting, it was of little use to them; +whilst a few great men could render their votes of no avail. If we had +possessed a House of Commons that represented the feelings and wishes of +the people, they would not have submitted to much of what had taken +place; and until we had a reform we should never, he believed, see +measures emanating from that House which would conduce to the glory and +safety of the country. He feared that there would be no improvement +until a dreadful convulsion took place, and that was an event which he +prayed God to avert from the country.</p> + +<p>“The Chairman proposed ‘<i>Prosperity to Agriculture</i>,’ when</p> + +<p>“Mr. Cobbett again rose, and said the Chairman had told him he was +entitled to give a sentiment. He would give prosperity to the towns of +Aylesbury and Tring; but he would again advise those who calculated upon +the return of prosperity, to be careful. Until there was an equitable +adjustment, or Government took off part of the taxes, which was the same +thing, there could be no return of prosperity.”</p> + +<p>After the reporter went away, we had a great number of toasts, most of +which were followed by more or less of speech; and, before we separated, +I think that the seeds of common sense, on the subject of our +distresses, were pretty well planted in the lower part of Hertfordshire, +and in Buckinghamshire.</p> + +<p>The gentlemen present were men of information, well able to communicate +to others that which they themselves had heard; and I endeavoured to +leave no doubt in the mind of any man that heard me, that the cause of +the distress was the work of the Government and House of Commons, and +that it was nonsense to hope for a cure until the people had a real +voice in the choosing of that House. I think that these truths were well +implanted; and I further think that if I could go to the capital of +every county in the kingdom, I should leave no doubt in the minds of any +part of the people. I must not omit to mention, in conclusion, that +though I am no eater or drinker, and though I tasted nothing but the +breast of a little chicken, and drank nothing but water, the dinner was +the best that ever I saw called a <i>public dinner</i>, and certainly +unreasonably cheap. There were excellent joints of meat of the finest +description, fowls and geese in abundance; and, finally, a very fine +haunch of venison, with a bottle of wine for each person; and all for +<i>seven shillings and sixpence per head</i>. Good waiting upon; civil +landlord and landlady; and, in short, everything at this very pretty +town pleased me exceedingly. Yet, what is Tring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span> but a fair specimen of +English towns and English people? And is it right, and is it to be +suffered, that such a people should be plunged into misery by the acts +of those whom they pay so generously, and whom they so loyally and +cheerfully obey?</p> + +<p>As far as I had an opportunity of ascertaining the facts, the farmers +feel all the pinchings of distress, and the still harsher pinchings of +anxiety for the future; and the labouring people are suffering in a +degree not to be described. The shutting of the male paupers up in +pounds is common through Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. Left at large +during the day, they roam about and maraud. What are the farmers to do +with them? God knows how long the peace is to be kept, if this state of +things be not put a stop to. The natural course of things is, that an +attempt to impound the paupers in cold weather will produce resistance +in some place; that those of one parish will be joined by those of +another; that a formidable band will soon be assembled; then will ensue +the rummaging of pantries and cellars; that this will spread from parish +to parish; and that, finally, mobs of immense magnitude will set the law +at open defiance. Jails are next to useless in such a case: their want +of room must leave the greater part of the offenders at large; the +agonizing distress of the farmers will make them comparatively +indifferent with regard to these violences; and, at last, general +confusion will come. This is by no means an unlikely progress, or an +unlikely result. It therefore becomes those who have much at stake, to +join heartily in their applications to Government, for a timely remedy +for these astounding evils.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>NORTHERN TOUR.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Sheffield, 31st January 1830.</i></p> + +<p>On the 26th instant I gave my third lecture at Leeds. I should in vain +endeavour to give an adequate description of the pleasure which I felt +at my reception, and at the effect which I produced in that fine and +opulent capital of this great county of York; for the <i>capital</i> it is in +fact, though not in name. On the first evening, the play-house, which is +pretty spacious, was not completely filled in all its parts; but on the +second and the third, it was filled brim full, boxes, pit and gallery; +besides a dozen or two of gentlemen who were accommodated with seats on +the stage. Owing to a cold which I took at Huddersfield, and which I +spoke of before, I was, as the players call it, not in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span> very good +<i>voice</i>; but the audience made allowance for that, and very wisely +preferred sense to sound. I never was more delighted than with my +audience at Leeds; and what I set the highest value on, is, that I find +I produced a prodigious effect in that important town.</p> + +<p>There had been a meeting at Doncaster, a few days before I went to Leeds +from Ripley, where one of the speakers, a Mr. Becket Denison, had said, +speaking of the taxes, that there must be an application of the <i>pruning +hook</i> or of the <i>sponge</i>. This gentleman is a banker, I believe; he is +one of the Beckets connected with the Lowthers; and he is a brother, or +very near relation of that Sir John Becket who is the Judge Advocate +General. So that, at last, others can talk of the pruning hook and the +sponge, as well as I.</p> + +<p>From Leeds I proceeded on to this place, not being able to stop at +either Wakefield or Barnsley, except merely to change horses. The people +in those towns were apprised of the time that I should pass through +them; and, at each place, great numbers assembled to see me, to shake me +by the hand, and to request me to stop. I was so hoarse as not to be +able to make the post-boy hear me when I called to him; and, therefore, +it would have been useless to stop; yet I promised to go back if my time +and my voice would allow me. They do not; and I have written to the +gentlemen of those places to inform them, that when I go to Scotland in +the spring, I will not fail to stop in those towns, in order to express +my gratitude to them. All the way along, from Leeds to Sheffield, it is +coal and iron, and iron and coal. It was dark before we reached +Sheffield; so that we saw the iron furnaces in all the horrible +splendour of their everlasting blaze. Nothing can be conceived more +grand or more terrific than the yellow waves of fire that incessantly +issue from the top of these furnaces, some of which are close by the +way-side. Nature has placed the beds of iron and the beds of coal +alongside of each other, and art has taught man to make one to operate +upon the other, as to turn the iron-stone into liquid matter, which is +drained off from the bottom of the furnace, and afterwards moulded into +blocks and bars, and all sorts of things. The combustibles are put into +the top of the furnace, which stands thirty, forty, or fifty feet up in +the air, and the ever blazing mouth of which is kept supplied with coal +and coke and iron stone, from little iron wagons forced up by steam, and +brought down again to be re-filled. It is a surprising thing to behold; +and it is impossible to behold it without being convinced that, whatever +other nations may do with cotton and with wool, they will never equal +England with regard to things made of iron and steel. This Sheffield, +and the land<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span> all about it, is one bed of iron and coal. They call it +black Sheffield, and black enough it is; but from this one town and its +environs go nine-tenths of the knives that are used in the whole world; +there being, I understand, no knives made at Birmingham; the manufacture +of which place consists of the larger sort of implements, of locks of +all sorts, and guns and swords, and of all the endless articles of +hardware which go to the furnishing of a house. As to the land, viewed +in the way of agriculture, it really does appear to be very little +worth. I have not seen, except at Harewood and Ripley, a stack of wheat +since I came into Yorkshire; and even there, the whole I saw; and all +that I have seen since I came into Yorkshire; and all that I saw during +a ride of six miles that I took into Derbyshire the day before +yesterday; all put together would not make the one-half of what I have +many times seen in one single rick-yard of the vales of Wiltshire. But +this is all very proper: these coal-diggers, and iron-melters, and +knife-makers, compel us to send the food to them, which, indeed, we do +very cheerfully, in exchange for the produce of their rocks, and the +wondrous works of their hands.</p> + +<p>The trade of Sheffield has fallen off less in proportion than that of +the other manufacturing districts. North America, and particularly the +United States, where the people have so much victuals to cut, form a +great branch of the custom of this town. If the people of Sheffield +could only receive a tenth part of what their knives sell for by retail +in America, Sheffield might pave its streets with silver. A <i>gross</i> of +knives and forks is sold to the Americans for less than three knives and +forks can be bought at retail in a country store in America. No fear of +rivalship in this trade. The Americans may lay on their tariff, and +double it, and triple it; but as long as they continue to <i>cut</i> their +victuals, from Sheffield they must have the things to cut it with.</p> + +<p>The ragged hills all round about this town are bespangled with groups of +houses inhabited by the working cutlers. They have not suffered like the +working weavers; for, to make knives, there must be the hand of man. +Therefore, machinery cannot come to destroy the wages of the labourer. +The home demand has been very much diminished; but still the depression +has here not been what it has been, and what it is, where the machinery +can be brought into play. We are here just upon the borders of +Derbyshire, a nook of which runs up and separates Yorkshire from +Nottinghamshire. I went to a village, the day before yesterday, called +<i>Mosborough</i>, the whole of the people of which are employed in the +making of <i>sickles</i> and <i>scythes</i>; and where, as I was told, they are +very well off even in these times. A prodigious quantity of these things +go to the United<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span> States of America. In short, there are about twelve +millions of people there continually consuming these things; and the +hardware merchants here have their agents and their stores in the great +towns of America, which country, as far as relates to this branch of +business, is still a part of old England.</p> + +<p>Upon my arriving here on Wednesday night, the 27th instant, I by no +means intended to lecture until I should be a little recovered from my +cold; but, to my great mortification, I found that the lecture had been +advertised, and that great numbers of persons had actually assembled. To +send them out again, and give back the money, was a thing not to be +attempted. I, therefore, went to the Music Hall, the place which had +been taken for the purpose, gave them a specimen of the state of my +voice, asked them whether I should proceed, and they, answering in the +affirmative, on I went. I then rested until yesterday, and shall +conclude my labours here to-morrow, and then proceed to “<i>fair +Nottingham</i>,” as we used to sing when I was a boy, in celebrating the +glorious exploits of “Robin Hood and Little John.” By the by, as we went +from Huddersfield to Dewsbury, we passed by a hill which is celebrated +as being the burial-place of the famed Robin Hood, of whom the people in +this country talk to this day.</p> + +<p>At Nottingham, they have advertised for my lecturing at the play-house, +for the 3rd, 4th, and 5th of February, and for a public breakfast to be +given to me on the first of those days, I having declined a dinner +agreeably to my original notification, and my friends insisting upon +something or other in that sort of way. It is very curious that I have +always had a very great desire to see Nottingham. This desire certainly +originated in the great interest that I used to take, and that all +country boys took, in the history of Robin Hood, in the record of whose +achievements, which were so well calculated to excite admiration in the +country boys, this Nottingham, with the word “<i>fair</i>” always before it, +was so often mentioned. The word <i>fair</i>, as used by our forefathers, +meant fine; for we frequently read in old descriptions of parts of the +country of such a district or such a parish, containing a <i>fair</i> +mansion, and the like; so that this town appears to have been celebrated +as a very fine place, even in ancient times; but within the last thirty +years, Nottingham has stood high in my estimation, from the conduct of +its people; from their public spirit; from their excellent sense as to +public matters; from the noble struggle which they have made from the +beginning of the French war to the present hour: if only forty towns in +England equal in size to Nottingham had followed its bright example, +there would have been no French war against liberty; the Debt would have +been now nearly paid off,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span> and we should have known nothing of those +manifold miseries which now afflict, and those greater miseries which +now menace, the country. The French would not have been in Cadiz; the +Russians would not have been at Constantinople; the Americans would not +have been in the Floridas; we should not have had to dread the combined +fleets of America, France, and Russia; and, which is the worst of all, +we should not have seen the jails four times as big as they were; and +should not have seen Englishmen reduced to such a state of misery as for +the honest labouring man to be fed worse than the felons in the jails.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>EASTERN TOUR.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“You permit the Jews openly to preach in their synagogues, and call +Jesus Christ an impostor; and you send women to jail (to be brought +to bed there, too), for declaring their unbelief in +Christianity.”—<i>King of Bohemia’s Letter to Canning, published in +the Register, 4th of January, 1823.</i></p></div> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Hargham, 22nd March, 1830.</i></p> + +<p>I set off from London on the 8th of March, got to Bury St. Edmund’s that +evening; and, to my great mortification, saw the county-election and the +assizes both going on at Chelmsford, where, of course, a great part of +the people of Essex were met. If I had been aware of that, I should +certainly have stopped at Chelmsford in order to address a few words of +sense to the unfortunate constituents of Mr. Western. At Bury St. +Edmund’s I gave a lecture on the ninth and another on the tenth of +March, in the playhouse, to very crowded audiences. I went to Norwich on +the 12th, and gave a lecture there on that evening, and on the evening +of the 13th. The audience here was more numerous than at Bury St. +Edmund’s, but not so numerous in proportion to the size of the place; +and, contrary to what has happened in most other places, it consisted +more of town’s people than of country people.</p> + +<p>During the 14th and 15th, I was at a friend’s house at Yelverton, half +way between Norwich and Bungay, which last is in Suffolk, and at which +place I lectured on the 16th to an audience consisting chiefly of +farmers, and was entertained there in a most hospitable and kind manner +at the house of a friend.</p> + +<p>The next day, being the 17th, I went to Eye, and there lectured in the +evening in the neat little playhouse of the place,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span> which was crowded in +every part, stage and all. The audience consisted almost entirely of +farmers, who had come in from Diss, from Harleston, and from all the +villages round about, in this fertile and thickly-settled neighbourhood. +I stayed at Eye all the day of the 18th, having appointed to be at +Ipswich on the 19th. Eye is a beautiful little place, though an +exceedingly rotten borough.</p> + +<p>All was harmony and good humour: everybody appeared to be of one mind; +and as these friends observed to me, so I thought, that more effect had +been produced by this one lecture in that neighbourhood, than could have +been produced in a whole year, if the Register had been put into the +hands of every one of the hearers during that space of time; for though +I never attempt to put forth that sort of stuff which the “intense” +people on the other side of St. George’s Channel call “<i>eloquence</i>,” I +bring out strings of very interesting facts; I use pretty powerful +arguments; and I hammer them down so closely upon the mind, that they +seldom fail to produce a lasting impression.</p> + +<p>On the 19th I proceeded to Ipswich, not imagining it to be the fine, +populous, and beautiful place that I found it to be. On that night, and +on the night of the 20th, I lectured to boxes and pit, crowded +principally with opulent farmers, and to a gallery filled, apparently, +with journeymen tradesmen and their wives. On the Sunday before I came +away, I heard, from all quarters, that my audiences had retired deeply +impressed with the truths which I had endeavoured to inculcate. One +thing, however, occurred towards the close of the lecture of Saturday, +the 20th, that I deem worthy of particular attention. In general it +would be useless for me to attempt to give anything like <i>a report</i> of +these speeches of mine, consisting as they do of words uttered pretty +nearly as fast as I can utter them, during a space of never less than +two, and sometimes of nearly three hours. But there occurred here +something that I must notice. I was speaking of <i>the degrees</i> by which +the established church had been losing its <i>legal influence</i> since the +peace. First, the <i>Unitarian Bill</i>, removing the penal act which forbade +an impugning of the doctrine of the Trinity; second, the repeal of the +<i>Test Act</i>, which declared, in effect, that the religion of any of the +Dissenters was as good as that of the church of England; third, the +repeal of the penal and excluding laws with regard to the <i>Catholics</i>; +and this last act, said I, does in effect declare that the thing called +“the <i>Reformation</i>” was <i>unnecessary</i>. “No,” said one gentleman, in a +very loud voice, and he was followed by four or five more, who said “No, +No.” “Then,” said I, “we will, if you like, put it <i>to the vote</i>. +Understand, gentlemen, that <i>I do not say</i>, whatever I may think, that +the Reformation was unnecessary; but I say that <i>this act amounts to a +declaration</i> that it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span> unnecessary; and, without losing our good +humour, we will, if that gentleman choose, put this question to the +vote.” I paused a little while, receiving no answer, and perceiving that +the company were with me, I proceeded with my speech, concluding with +the complete demolishing blow which the church would receive by the bill +for giving civil and political power for training to the bar, and +seating on the bench, for placing in the commons and amongst the peers, +and for placing in the council, along with the King himself, <i>those who +deny that there ever existed a Redeemer</i>; who give the name of +<i>impostor</i> to him whom <i>we worship as God</i>, and who boast of having +hanged him upon the cross. “Judge you, gentlemen,” said I, “of the +figure which England will make, when its laws will seat on the bench, +from which people have been sentenced to suffer most severely for +denying the truth of Christianity; from which bench it has been held +that <i>Christianity is part and parcel of the law of the land</i>; judge you +of the figure which England will make amongst Christian nations, when a +Jew, a blasphemer of Christ, a professor of the doctrines of those who +murdered him, shall be sitting upon that bench; and judge, gentlemen, +what we must think of <i>the clergy</i> of this church of ours, <i>if they +remain silent</i> while such a law shall be passed.”</p> + +<p>We were entertained at Ipswich by a very kind and excellent friend, +whom, as is generally the case, I had never seen or heard of before. The +morning of the day of the last lecture, I walked about five miles, then +went to his house to breakfast, and stayed with him and dined. On the +Sunday morning, before I came away, I walked about six miles, and +repeated the good cheer at breakfast at the same place. Here I heard the +first singing of the birds this year; and I here observed an instance of +that <i>petticoat government</i>, which, apparently, pervades the whole of +animated nature. A lark, very near to me in a ploughed field, rose from +the ground, and was saluting the sun with his delightful song. He was +got about as high as the dome of St. Paul’s, having me for a motionless +and admiring auditor, when the hen started up from nearly the same spot +whence the cock had risen, flew up and passed close by him. I could not +hear what she said; but supposed that she must have given him a pretty +smart reprimand; for down she came upon the ground, and he, ceasing to +sing, took a twirl in the air, and came down after her. Others have, I +dare say, seen this a thousand times over; but I never observed it +before.</p> + +<p>About twelve o’clock, my son and I set off for this place (Hargham), +coming through Needham Market, Stowmarket, Bury St. Edmund’s, and +Thetford, at which latter place I intended to have lectured to-day and +to-morrow, where the theatre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span> was to have been the scene, but the mayor +of the town thought it best not to give his permission until the assizes +(which commence to-day the 22nd) should be over, lest the judge should +take offence, seeing that it is the custom, while his Lordship is in the +town, to give up the civil jurisdiction to him. Bless his worship! what +in all the world should he think would take me to Thetford, <i>except it +being a time for holding the assizes</i>? At no <i>other</i> time should I have +dreamed of finding an audience in so small a place, and in a country so +thinly inhabited. I was attracted, too, by the desire of meeting some of +my “<i>learned friends</i>” from the Wen; for I deal in arguments founded on +the <i>law of the land</i>, and on <i>Acts of Parliament</i>. The deuce take this +mayor for disappointing me; and, now, I am afraid that I shall not fall +in with this learned body during the whole of my spring tour.</p> + +<p>Finding Thetford to be forbidden ground, I came hither to Sir Thomas +Beevor’s, where I had left my two daughters, having, since the 12th +inclusive, travelled 120 miles, and delivered six lectures. Those 120 +miles have been through a fine <i>farming country</i>, and without my seeing, +until I came to Thetford, but one spot of waste or common land, and that +not exceeding, I should think, from fifty to eighty acres. From this +place to Norwich, and through Attleborough and Wymondham, the land is +all good, and the farming excellent. It is pretty nearly the same from +Norwich to Bungay, where we enter Suffolk. Bungay is a large and fine +town, with three churches, lying on the side of some very fine meadows. +Harleston, on the road to Eye, is a very pretty market-town: of Eye, I +have spoken before. From Eye to Ipswich, we pass through a series of +villages, and at Ipswich, to my great surprise, we found a most +beautiful town, with a population of about twelve thousand persons; and +here our profound Prime Minister might have seen most abundant evidence +of prosperity; for the <i>new houses</i> are, indeed, very numerous. But if +our famed and profound Prime Minister, having Mr. Wilmot Horton by the +arm, and standing upon one of the hills that surround this town, and +which, each hill seeming to surpass the other hill in beauty, command a +complete view of every house, or, at least, of the top of every house, +in this opulent town; if he, thus standing, and thus accompanied, were +to hold up his hands, clap them together, and bless God for the proofs +of prosperity contained in the new and red bricks, and were to cast his +eye southward of the town, and see the numerous little vessels upon the +little arm of the sea which comes up from Harwich, and which here finds +its termination; and were, in those vessels, to discover an additional +proof of prosperity; if he were to be thus situated, and to be thus +feeling, would not some doubts be awakened in his mind; if I, standing +behind him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span> were to whisper in his ear, “Do you not think that the +greater part of these new houses have been created by taxes, which went +to pay the about 20,000 <i>troops</i> that were stationed here for pretty +nearly 20 years during the war, and some of which are stationed here +still? Look at that immense building, my Lord Duke: it is fresh and +<i>new</i> and fine and splendid, and contains indubitable marks of opulence; +but it is a BARRACK; aye, and the money to build that barrack, and to +maintain the 20,000 troops, has assisted to beggar, to dilapidate, to +plunge into ruin and decay, hundreds upon hundreds of villages and +hamlets in Wiltshire, in Dorsetshire, in Somersetshire, and in other +counties who shared not in the ruthless squanderings of the war. But,” +leaning my arm upon the Duke’s shoulder, and giving Wilmot a poke in the +poll to make him listen and look, and pointing with my fore-finger to +the twelve large, lofty, and magnificent churches, each of them at least +700 years old, and saying, “Do you think Ipswich was not larger and far +more populous 700 years ago than it is at this hour?” Putting this +question to him, would it not check his exultation, and would it not +make even Wilmot begin to reflect?</p> + +<p>Even at this hour, with all the unnatural swellings of the war, there +are not two thousand people, <i>including the bed-ridden and the babies</i>, +to each of the magnificent churches. Of adults, there cannot be more +than about 1400 to a church; and there is one of the churches which, +being well filled, as in ancient times, would contain from four to seven +thousand persons, for the nave of it appears to me to be larger than St. +Andrew’s Hall at Norwich, which Hall was formerly the church of the +Benedictine Priory. And, perhaps, the great church here might have +belonged to some monastery; for here were three Augustine priories, one +of them founded in the reign of William the Conqueror, another founded +in the reign of Henry the Second, another in the reign of King John, +with an Augustine friary, a Carmelite friary, an hospital founded in the +reign of King John; and here, too, was the college founded by Cardinal +Wolsey, the gateway of which, though built in brick, is still preserved, +being the same sort of architecture as that of Hampton Court, and St. +James’s Palace.</p> + +<p>There is no doubt but that this was a much greater place than it is now. +It is the great outlet for the immense quantities of corn grown in this +most productive county, and by farmers the most clever that ever lived. +I am told that wheat is worth six shillings a quarter more, at some +times, at Ipswich than at Norwich, the navigation to London being so +much more speedy and safe. Immense quantities of flour are sent from +this town. The windmills on the hills in the vicinage are so numerous +that I counted, whilst standing in one place, no less than seventeen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span> +They are all painted or washed white; the sails are black; it was a fine +morning, the wind was brisk, and their twirling altogether added greatly +to the beauty of the scene, which, having the broad and beautiful arm of +the sea on the one hand, and the fields and meadows, studded with +farm-houses, on the other, appeared to me the most beautiful sight of +the kind that I had ever beheld. The town and its churches were down in +the dell before me, and the only object that came to disfigure the scene +was THE BARRACK, and made me utter involuntarily the words of +<span class="smcap">Blackstone</span>: “The laws of England recognise no distinction between the +citizen and the soldier; they know of no standing soldier: no inland +fortresses; no barracks.” “Ah!” said I to myself, but loud enough for +any one to have heard me a hundred yards, “such <i>were</i> the laws of +England when mass was said in those magnificent churches, and such they +continued until a <i>septennial</i> Parliament came and deprived the people +of England of their rights.”</p> + +<p>I know of no town to be compared with Ipswich, except it be Nottingham; +and there is this difference in the two; that Nottingham stands high, +and, on one side, looks over a very fine country; whereas Ipswich is in +a dell, meadows running up above it, and a beautiful arm of the sea +below it. The town itself is substantially built, well paved, everything +good and solid, and no wretched dwellings to be seen on its outskirts. +From the town itself, you can see nothing; but you can, in no direction, +go from it a quarter of a mile without finding views that a painter +might crave, and then, the country round about it, so well cultivated; +the land in such a beautiful state, the farm-houses all white, and all +so much alike; the barns, and everything about the homesteads so snug: +the stocks of turnips so abundant everywhere; the sheep and cattle in +such fine order; the wheat all drilled; the ploughman so expert; the +furrows, if a quarter of a mile long, as straight as a line, and laid as +truly as if with a level: in short, here is everything to delight the +eye, and to make the people proud of their country; and this is the case +throughout the whole of this county. I have always found Suffolk farmers +great boasters of their superiority over others; and I must say that it +is not without reason.</p> + +<p>But, observe, this has been a very <i>highly-favoured county</i>: it has had +poured into it millions upon millions of money, drawn from Wiltshire, +and other inland counties. I should suppose that Wiltshire alone has, +within the last forty years, had two or three millions of money drawn +from it, <i>to be given to Essex and Suffolk</i>. At one time there were not +less than sixty thousand men kept on foot in these counties. The +increase of London, too, the swellings of the immortal Wen, have +assisted to heap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span> wealth upon these counties; but, in spite of all this, +the distress pervades all ranks and degrees, except those who live on +the taxes. At Eye, butter used to sell for eighteen-pence a pound: it +now sells for nine-pence halfpenny, though the grass has not yet begun +to spring; and eggs were sold at thirty for a shilling. Fine times for +me, whose principal food is eggs, and whose sole drink is milk, but very +bad times for those who sell me the food and the drink.</p> + +<p>Coming from Ipswich to Bury St. Edmund’s, you pass through +Needham-market and Stowmarket, two very pretty market towns; and, like +all the other towns in Suffolk, free from the drawback of shabby and +beggarly houses on the outskirts. I remarked that I did not see in the +whole county one single instance of paper or rags supplying the place of +glass in any window, and did not see one miserable hovel in which a +labourer resided. The county, however, is <i>flat</i>: with the exception of +the environs of Ipswich, there is none of that beautiful variety of hill +and dale, and hanging woods, that you see at every town in Hampshire, +Sussex, and Kent. It is curious, too, that though the people, I mean the +poorer classes of people, are extremely neat in their houses, and though +I found all their gardens dug up and prepared for cropping, you do not +see about their cottages (and it is just the same in Norfolk) that +<i>ornamental gardening</i>; the walks, and the flower borders, and the +honey-suckles, and roses, trained over the doors, or over arched sticks, +that you see in Hampshire, Sussex, and Kent, that I have many a time +sitten upon my horse to look at so long and so often, as greatly to +retard me on my journey. Nor is this done for show or ostentation. If +you find a cottage in those counties, by the side of a <i>by lane</i>, or in +the midst of a forest, you find just the same care about the garden and +the flowers. In those counties, too, there is great taste with regard +<i>to trees</i> of every description, from the hazel to the oak. In Suffolk +it appears to be just the contrary: here is the great dissight of all +these three eastern counties. Almost every bank of every field is +studded with <i>pollards</i>, that is to say, trees that have been +<i>beheaded</i>, at from six to twelve feet from the ground, than which +nothing in nature can be more ugly. They send out shoots from the head, +which are lopped off once in ten or a dozen years for fuel, or other +purposes. To add to the deformity, the ivy is suffered to grow on them, +which, at the same time, checks the growth of the shoots. These pollards +become hollow very soon, and, as timber, are fit for nothing but +gate-posts, even before they be hollow. Upon a farm of a hundred acres +these pollards, by root and shade, spoil at least six acres of the +ground, besides being most destructive to the fences. Why not plant six +acres<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span> of the ground with timber and underwood? Half an acre a year +would most amply supply the farm with poles and brush, and with +everything wanted in the way of fuel; and why not plant hedges to be +unbroken by these pollards? I have scarcely seen a single farm of a +hundred acres without pollards, sufficient to find the farm-house in +fuel, without any assistance from coals, for several years.</p> + +<p>However, the great number of farm-houses in Suffolk, the neatness of +those houses, the moderation in point of extent which you generally see, +and the great store of the food in the turnips, and the admirable +management of the whole, form a pretty good compensation for the want of +beauties. The land is generally as clean as a garden ought to be; and, +though it varies a good deal as to lightness and stiffness, they make it +all bear prodigious quantities of Swedish turnips; and on them pigs, +sheep, and cattle, all equally thrive. I did not observe a single poor +miserable animal in the whole county.</p> + +<p>To conclude an account of Suffolk, and not to sing the praises of Bury +St. Edmund’s, would offend every creature of Suffolk birth; even at +Ipswich, when I was praising <i>that place</i>, the very people of that town +asked me if I did not think Bury St. Edmund’s the nicest town in the +world. Meet them wherever you will, they have all the same boast; and +indeed, as a town <i>in itself</i>, it is the neatest place that ever was +seen. It is airy, it has several fine open places in it, and it has the +remains of the famous abbey walls and the abbey gate entire; and it is +so clean and so neat that nothing can equal it in that respect. It was a +favourite spot in ancient times; greatly endowed with monasteries and +hospitals. Besides the famous Benedictine Abbey, there were once a +college and a friary; and as to the abbey itself, it was one of the +greatest in the kingdom; and was so ancient as to have been founded only +about forty years after the landing of Saint Austin in Kent. The land +all round about it is good; and the soil is of that nature as not to +produce much dirt at any time of the year; but the country about it is +<i>flat</i>, and not of that beautiful variety that we find at Ipswich.</p> + +<p>After all, what is the reflection now called for? It is that this fine +county, for which nature has done all that she can do, soil, climate, +sea-ports, people; everything that can be done, and an internal +government, civil and ecclesiastical, the most complete in the world, +wanting nothing but to <i>be let alone</i>, to make every soul in it as happy +as people can be upon earth; the peace provided for by the county rates; +property protected by the law of the land; the poor provided for by the +poor-rates; religion provided for by the tithes and the church-rates; +easy and safe conveyance provided for by the highway-rates; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span>extraordinary danger provided against by the militia-rates; a complete +government in itself; <i>but having to pay a portion of sixty millions a +year in taxes, over and above all this; and that, too, on account of +wars carried on, not for the defence of England</i>, not for the upholding +of <i>English liberty and happiness</i>, but for the purpose of crushing +liberty and happiness in other countries; and all this because, and only +because, a septennial Parliament has deprived the people of their +rights.</p> + +<p>That which we <i>admire</i> most is not always that which would be <i>our +choice</i>. One might imagine, that after all that I have said about this +fine county, I should certainly prefer it as a place of residence. I +should not, however: my choice has been always very much divided between +the woods of Sussex and the downs of Wiltshire. I should not like to be +compelled to decide; but if I were compelled, I do believe that I should +fix on some vale in Wiltshire. Water meadows at the bottom, corn-land +going up towards the hills, those hills being <i>Down land</i>, and a +farm-house, in a clump of trees, in some little cross vale between the +hills, sheltered on every side but the south. In short, if Mr. Bennet +would give me a farm, the house of which lies on the right-hand side of +the road going from Salisbury to Warminster, in the parish of Norton +Bovant, just before you enter that village; if he would but be so good +as to do that, I would freely give up all the rest of the world to the +possession of whoever may get hold of it. I have hinted this to him once +or twice before, but I am sorry to say that he turns a deaf ear to my +hinting.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Cambridge, 28th March, 1830.</i></p> + +<p>I went from Hargham to Lynn on Tuesday, the 23rd; but owing to the +disappointment at Thetford, everything was deranged. It was market-day +at Lynn, but no preparations of any sort had been made, and no +notification given. I therefore resolved, after staying at Lynn on +Wednesday, to make a short tour, and to come back to it again. This tour +was to take in <i>Ely</i>, Cambridge, St. Ives, Stamford, Peterborough, +Wisbeach, and was to bring me back to Lynn, after a very busy ten days. +I was particularly desirous to have a little political preaching at Ely, +the place where the flogging of the English local militia under a guard +of German bayonets cost me so dear.</p> + +<p>I got there about noon on Thursday, the 25th, being market-day; but I +had been apprised even before I left Lynn, that no place had been +provided for my accommodation. A gentleman at Lynn gave me the name of +one at Ely, who, as he thought, would be glad of an opportunity of +pointing out a proper place, and of speaking about it; but just before I +set off from Lynn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span> I received a notification from this gentleman, that +he could do nothing in the matter. I knew that Ely was a small place, +but I was determined to go and see the spot where the militia-men were +flogged, and also determined to find some opportunity or other of +relating that story as publicly as I could at Ely, and of describing the +<i>tail</i> of the story; of which I will speak presently. Arrived at Ely, I +first walked round the beautiful cathedral, that honour to our Catholic +forefathers, and that standing disgrace to our Protestant selves. It is +impossible to look at that magnificent pile without <i>feeling</i> that we +are a fallen race of men. The cathedral would, leaving out the palace of +the bishop, and the houses of the dean, canons, and prebendaries, weigh +more, if it were put into a scale, than all the houses in the town, and +all the houses for a mile round the neighbourhood if you exclude the +remains of the ancient monasteries. You have only to open your eyes to +be convinced that England must have been a far greater and more wealthy +country in those days than it is in these days. The hundreds of +thousands of loads of stone, of which this cathedral and the monasteries +in the neighbourhood were built, must all have been brought by sea from +distant parts of the kingdom. These foundations were laid more than a +thousand years ago; and yet there are vagabonds who have the impudence +to say that it is the Protestant religion that has made England a great +country.</p> + +<p>Ely is what one may call a miserable little town: very prettily +situated, but poor and mean. Everything seems to be on the decline, as, +indeed, is the case everywhere, where the clergy are the masters. They +say that this bishop has an income of £18,000 a year. He and the dean +and chapter are the owners of all the land and tithes, for a great +distance round about, in this beautiful and most productive part of the +country; and yet this famous building, the cathedral, is in a state of +disgraceful irrepair and disfigurement. The great and magnificent +windows to the east have been shortened at the bottom, and the space +plastered up with brick and mortar, in a very slovenly manner, for the +purpose of saving the expense of keeping the glass in repair. Great +numbers of the windows in the upper part of the building have been +partly closed up in the same manner, and others quite closed up. One +door-way, which apparently had stood in need of repair, has been rebuilt +in modern style, because it was cheaper; and the churchyard contained a +flock of sheep acting as vergers for those who live upon the immense +income, not a penny of which ought to be expended upon themselves while +any part of this beautiful building is in a state of irrepair. This +cathedral was erected “to the honour of God and the Holy Church.” My +daughters went to the service in the afternoon,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span> in the choir of which +they saw God honoured by the presence of <i>two old men</i>, forming the +whole of the congregation. I dare say, that in Catholic times, five +thousand people at a time have been assembled in this church. The +cathedral and town stand upon a little hill, about three miles in +circumference, raised up, as it were, for the purpose, amidst the rich +fen land by which the hill is surrounded, and I dare say that the town +formerly consisted of houses built over a great part of this hill, and +of, probably, from fifty to a hundred thousand people. The people do not +now exceed above four thousand, including the bedridden and the babies.</p> + +<p>Having no place provided for lecturing, and knowing no single soul in +the place, I was thrown upon my own resources. The first thing I did was +to walk up through the market, which contained much more than an +audience sufficient for me; but, leaving the market people to carry on +their affairs, I picked up a sort of labouring man, asked him if he +recollected when the local militia-men were flogged under the guard of +the Germans; and, receiving an answer in the affirmative, I asked him to +go and show me the spot, which he did; he showed me a little common +along which the men had been marched, and into a piece of pasture-land, +where he put his foot upon the identical spot where the flogging had +been executed. On that spot, I told him what I had suffered for +expressing my indignation at that flogging. I told him that a large sum +of English money was now every year sent abroad to furnish half pay and +allowances to the officers of those German troops, and to maintain the +widows and children of such of them as were dead; and I added, “You have +to work to help to pay that money; part of the taxes which you pay on +your malt, hops, beer, leather, soap, candles, tobacco, tea, sugar, and +everything else, goes abroad every year to pay these people: it has thus +been going abroad ever since the peace; and it will thus go abroad for +the rest of your life, if this system of managing the nation’s affairs +continue;” and I told him that about one million seven hundred thousand +pounds had been sent abroad on this account, <i>since the peace</i>.</p> + +<p>When I opened, I found that this man was willing to open too; and he +uttered sentiments that would have convinced me, if I had not before +been convinced of the fact, that there are very few, even amongst the +labourers, who do not clearly understand the cause of their ruin. I +discovered that there were two Ely men flogged upon that occasion, and +that one of them was still alive and residing near the town. I sent for +this man, who came to me in the evening when he had done his work, and +who told me that he had lived seven years with the same master when he +was flogged, and was bailiff or head man to his master. He has now a +wife and several children; is a very nice-looking,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span> and appears to be a +hard-working, man, and to bear an excellent character.</p> + +<p>But how was I to harangue? For I was determined not to quit Ely without +something of that sort. I told this labouring man who showed me the +flogging spot, my name, which seemed to surprise him very much, for he +had heard of me before. After I had returned to my inn, I walked back +again through the market amongst the farmers; then went to an inn that +looked out upon the market-place, went into an up-stairs room, threw up +the sash, and sat down at the window, and looked out upon the market. +Little groups soon collected to survey me, while I sat in a very +unconcerned attitude. The farmers had dined, or I should have found out +the most numerous assemblage, and have dined with them. The next best +thing was, to go and sit down in the room where they usually dropped in +to drink after dinner; and, as they nearly all smoke, to take a pipe +with them. This, therefore, I did; and, after a time, we began to talk.</p> + +<p>The room was too small to contain a twentieth part of the people that +would have come in if they could. It was hot to suffocation; but, +nevertheless, I related to them the account of the flogging, and of my +persecution on that account; and I related to them the account above +stated with regard to the English money now sent to the Germans, at +which they appeared to be utterly astonished. I had not time sufficient +for a lecture, but I explained to them briefly the real cause of the +distress which prevailed; I warned the farmers particularly against the +consequences of hoping that this distress would remove itself. I +portrayed to them the effects of the taxes; and showed them that we owe +this enormous burden to the want of being fairly represented in the +Parliament. Above all things, I did that which I never fail to do, +showed them the absurdity of grumbling at the six millions a year given +in relief to the poor, while they were silent, and seemed to think +nothing of the sixty millions of taxes collected by the Government at +London, and I asked them how any man of property could have the +impudence to call upon the labouring man to serve in the militia, and to +deny that that labouring man had, in case of need, a clear right to a +share of the produce of the land. I explained to them how the poor were +originally relieved; told them that the revenues of the livings, which +had their foundation in <i>charity</i>, were divided amongst the poor. The +demands for repair of the churches, and the clergy themselves; I +explained to them how church-rates and poor-rates came to be introduced; +how the burden of maintaining the poor came to be thrown upon the people +at large; how the nation had sunk by degrees ever since the event called +the Reformation; and, pointing towards the cathedral, I said, “Can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span> you +believe, gentlemen, that when that magnificent pile was reared, and when +all the fine monasteries, hospitals, schools, and other resorts of piety +and charity, existed in this town and neighbourhood; can you believe, +that Ely was the miserable little place that it now is; and that that +England which had never heard of the name of <i>pauper</i>, contained the +crowds of miserable creatures that it now contains, some starving at +stone-cracking by the way-side, and others drawing loaded wagons on that +way?”</p> + +<p>A young man in the room (I having come to a pause) said: “But, Sir, were +there no poor in Catholic times?” “Yes,” said I, “to be sure there were. +The Scripture says, that the poor shall never cease out of the land; and +there are five hundred texts of Scripture enjoining on all men to be +good and kind to the poor. It is necessary to the existence of civil +society, that there should be poor. Men have two motives to industry and +care in all the walks of life: one, to acquire wealth; but the other and +stronger, to avoid poverty. If there were no poverty, there would be no +industry, no enterprise. But this poverty is not to be made a punishment +unjustly severe. Idleness, extravagance, are offences against morality; +but they are not offences of that heinous nature to justify the +infliction of starvation by way of punishment. It is, therefore, the +duty of every man that is able; it is particularly the duty of every +government, and it was a duty faithfully executed by the Catholic +Church, to take care that no human being should perish for want in a +land of plenty; and to take care, too, that no one should be deficient +of a sufficiency of food and raiment, not only to sustain life, but also +to sustain health.” The young man said: “I thank you, Sir; I am +answered.”</p> + +<p>I strongly advised the farmers to be well with their work-people; for +that, unless their flocks were as safe in their fields as their bodies +were in their beds, their lives must be lives of misery; that if their +sacks and barns were not places of as safe deposit for their corn as +their drawers were for their money, the life of the farmer was the most +wretched upon earth, in place of being the most pleasant, as it ought to +be.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Boston, Friday, 9th April, 1830.</i></p> + +<p>Quitting Cambridge and Dr. Chafy and Serjeant Frere, on Monday, the 29th +of March, I arrived at St. Ives, in Huntingdonshire, about one o’clock +in the day. In the evening I harangued to about 200 persons, principally +farmers, in a wheelwright’s shop, that being the only <i>safe</i> place in +the town, of sufficient dimensions and sufficiently strong. It was +market-day; and this is a great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span> cattle-market. As I was not to be at +Stamford in Lincolnshire till the 31st, I went from St. Ives to my +friend Mr. Wells’s, near Huntingdon, and remained there till the 31st in +the morning, employing the evening of the 30th in going to Chatteris, in +the Isle of Ely, and there addressing a good large company of farmers.</p> + +<p>On the 31st, I went to Stamford, and, in the evening, spoke to about 200 +farmers and others, in a large room in a very fine and excellent inn, +called Standwell’s Hotel, which is, with few exceptions, the nicest inn +that I have ever been in. On the 1st of April, I harangued here again, +and had amongst my auditors some most agreeable, intelligent, and +public-spirited yeomen, from the little county of Rutland, who made, +respecting the <i>seat in Parliament</i>, the proposition, the details of the +purport of which I communicated to my readers in the last Register.</p> + +<p>On the 2nd of April, I met my audience in the playhouse at Peterborough; +and though it had snowed all day, and was very wet and sloppy, I had a +good large audience; and I did not let this opportunity pass without +telling my hearers of the part that their <i>good</i> neighbour, Lord +Fitzwilliam, had acted with regard to the <i>French war</i>, with regard to +<i>Burke and his pension</i>; with regard to the <i>dungeoning law</i>, which +drove me across the Atlantic in 1817, and with regard to the putting +into the present Parliament, aye, and for that very town, that very +Lawyer Scarlett, whose state prosecutions are now become so famous. +“Never,” said I, “did I say that behind a man’s back that I would not +say to his face. I wish I had his face before me: but I am here as near +to it as I can get: I am before the face of his friends: here, +therefore, I will say what I think of him.” When I had described his +conduct, and given my opinion on it, many applauded, and not one +expressed disapprobation.</p> + +<p>On the 3rd, I speechified at Wisbeach, in the playhouse, to about 220 +people, I think it was; and that same night, went to sleep at a friend’s +(a total stranger to me, however) at St. Edmund’s, in the heart of the +Fens. I stayed there on the 4th (Sunday), the morning of which brought a +hard frost: ice an inch thick, and the total destruction of the apricot +blossoms.</p> + +<p>After passing Sunday and the greater part of Monday (the 5th) at St. +Edmund’s, where my daughters and myself received the greatest kindness +and attention, we went, on Monday afternoon, to Crowland, where we were +most kindly lodged and entertained at the houses of two gentlemen, to +whom also we were personally perfect strangers; and in the evening, I +addressed a very large assemblage of most respectable farmers and +others, in this once famous town. There was another hard frost on the +Monday morning; just, as it were, to <i>finish</i> the apricot bloom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span>On the 6th I went to Lynn, and on that evening and on the evening of the +7th, I spoke to about 300 people in the playhouse. And here there was +more <i>interruption</i> than I have ever met with at any other place. This +town, though containing as good and kind friends as I have met with in +any other, and though the people are generally as good, contains also, +apparently, a large proportion of <i>dead-weight</i>, the offspring, most +likely, of the <i>rottenness of the borough</i>. Two or three, or even <i>one</i> +man, may, if not tossed out at once, disturb and interrupt everything in +a case where constant attention to <i>fact</i> and <i>argument</i> is requisite, +to insure utility to the meeting. There were but <i>three</i> here; and +though they were finally silenced, it was not without great loss of +time, great noise and hubbub. Two, I was told, were <i>dead-weight</i> men, +and one a sort of <i>higgling merchant</i>.</p> + +<p>On the 8th I went to Holbeach, in this noble county of Lincoln; and, +gracious God! what a <i>contrast</i> with the scene at Lynn! I knew not a +soul in the place. Mr. Fields, a bookseller and printer, had invited me +by letter, and had, in the nicest and most unostentatious manner, made +all the preparations. Holbeach lies in the midst of some of the richest +land in the world; a small market-town, but a parish more than twenty +miles across, larger, I believe, than the county of Rutland, produced an +audience (in a very nice room, with seats prepared) of 178, apparently +all wealthy farmers, and men in that rank of life; and an audience so +<i>deeply</i> attentive to the dry matters on which I had to address it, I +have very seldom met with. I was delighted with Holbeach; a neat little +town; a most beautiful church with a spire, like that of “the man of +Ross, pointing to the skies;” gardens very pretty; fruit-trees in +abundance, with blossom-buds ready to burst; and land, dark in colour, +and as fine in substance as flour, as fine as if sifted through one of +the sieves with which we get the dust out of the clover seed; and when +cut deep down into with a spade, precisely, as to substance, like a +piece of hard butter; yet nowhere is the <i>distress</i> greater than here. I +walked on from Holbeach, six miles, towards Boston; and seeing the +fatness of the land, and the fine grass and the never-ending sheep lying +about like <i>fat hogs</i>, stretched in the sun, and seeing the abject state +of the labouring people, I could not help exclaiming, “God has given us +the best country in the world; our brave and wise and virtuous fathers, +who built all these magnificent churches, gave us the best government in +the world, and we, their cowardly and foolish and profligate sons, have +made this once-paradise what we now behold!”</p> + +<p>I arrived at Boston (where I am now writing) to-day, (Friday, 9th April) +about ten o’clock. I must arrive at Louth before I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span> can say <i>precisely</i> +what my future route will be. There is an immense fair at Lincoln next +week; and a friend has been <i>here</i> to point out the proper days to be +there; as, however, this Register will not come from the press until +after I shall have had an opportunity of writing something at Louth, +time enough to be inserted in it. I will here go back, and speak of the +country that I have travelled over, since I left Cambridge on the 29th +of March.</p> + +<p>From Cambridge to St. Ives the land is generally in open, unfenced +fields, and some common fields; generally stiff land, and some of it not +very good, and wheat, in many places, looking rather thin. From St. Ives +to Chatteris (which last is in the Isle of Ely), the land is better, +particularly as you approach the latter place. From Chatteris I came +back to Huntingdon and once more saw its beautiful meadows, of which I +spoke when I went thither in 1823. From Huntingdon, through Stilton, to +Stamford (the two last in Lincolnshire), is a country of rich arable +land and grass fields, and of beautiful meadows. The enclosures are very +large, the soil red, with a whitish stone below; very much like the soil +at and near Ross in Herefordshire, and like that near Coventry and +Warwick. Here, as all over this country, everlasting fine sheep. The +houses all along here are built of the stone of the country: you seldom +see brick. The churches are large, lofty, and fine, and give proof that +the country was formerly much more populous than it is now, and that the +people had a vast deal more of wealth in their hands and at their own +disposal. There are three beautiful churches at Stamford, not less, I +dare say, than three [<i>quære</i>] hundred years old; but two of them (I did +not go to the other) are as perfect as when just finished, except as to +the <i>images</i>, most of which have been destroyed by the ungrateful +Protestant barbarians, of different sorts, but some of which (<i>out of +the reach</i> of their ruthless hands) are still in the niches.</p> + +<p>From Stamford to Peterborough is a country of the same description, with +the additional beauty of <i>woods</i> here and there, and with meadows just +like those at Huntingdon, and not surpassed by those on the Severn near +Worcester, nor by those on the Avon at Tewkesbury. The cathedral at +Peterborough is exquisitely beautiful, and I have great pleasure in +saying, that, contrary to the <i>more magnificent</i> pile at Ely, it is kept +in good order; the Bishop (Herbert Marsh) residing a good deal on the +spot; and though he <i>did</i> write a pamphlet to justify and urge on the +war, the ruinous war, and though he <i>did</i> get a <i>pension</i> for it, he is, +they told me, very good to the poor people. My daughters had a great +desire to see, and I had a great desire they should see, the +burial-place of that ill-used, that savagely-treated,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span> woman, and that +honour to woman-kind, Catherine, queen of the ferocious tyrant, Henry +the Eighth. To the infamy of that ruffian, and the shame of after ages, +there is no <i>monument</i> to record her virtues and her sufferings; and the +remains of this daughter of the wise Ferdinand and of the generous +Isabella, who sold her jewels to enable Columbus to discover the new +world, lie under the floor of the cathedral, commemorated by a short +inscription on a plate of brass. All men, Protestants or not +Protestants, feel as I feel upon this subject; search the <i>hearts</i> of +the bishop and of his dean and chapter, and these feelings are there; +but to do <i>justice</i> to the memory of this illustrious victim of tyranny, +would be to cast a reflection on that event to which they owe their rich +possessions, and, at the same time, to suggest ideas not very favourable +to the descendants of those who divided amongst them the plunder of the +people arising out of that event, and which descendants are their +patrons, and give them what they possess. From this cause, and no other, +it is, that the memory of the virtuous Catherine is unblazoned, while +that of the tyrannical, the cruel, and the immoral Elizabeth, is +recorded with all possible veneration, and all possible varnishing-over +of her disgusting amours and endless crimes.</p> + +<p>They relate at Peterborough, that the same sexton who buried Queen +Catherine, also buried here Mary, Queen of Scots. The remains of the +latter, of very questionable virtue, or, rather, of unquestionable vice, +were removed to Westminster Abbey by her son, James the First; but those +of the virtuous Queen were suffered to remain unhonoured! Good God! what +injustice, what a want of principle, what hostility to all virtuous +feeling, has not been the fruit of this Protestant Reformation; what +plunder, what disgrace to England, what shame, what misery, has that +event not produced! There is nothing that I address to my hearers with +more visible effect than a statement of <i>the manner in which the +poor-rates and the church-rates came</i>. This, of course, includes an +account of <i>how the poor were relieved in Catholic times</i>. To the far +greater part of people this is information <i>wholly new</i>; they are +<i>deeply interested</i> in it; and the impression is very great. Always +before we part, Tom Cranmer’s church receives a considerable blow.</p> + +<p>There is in the cathedral a very ancient monument, made to commemorate, +they say, the murder of the abbot and his monks by the Danes. Its date +is the year 870. Almost all the cathedrals, were, it appears, originally +churches of monasteries. That of Winchester and several others, +certainly were. There has lately died, in the garden of the bishop’s +palace, a tortoise that had been <i>there</i> more, they say, than two +hundred years; a fact very likely to be known; because, at the end of +thirty or forty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span> people would begin to talk about it as something +remarkable; and thus the record would be handed down from father to son.</p> + +<p>From Peterborough to Wisbeach, the road, for the most part, lies through +the <i>Fens</i>, and here we passed through the village of Thorney, where +there was a famous abbey, which, together with its valuable domain, was +given by the savage tyrant, Henry VIII., to John Lord Russell (made a +lord by that tyrant), the founder of the family of that name. This man +got also the abbey and estate at Woburn; the priory and its estate at +Tavistock; and in the next reign he got Covent Garden and other parts +adjoining; together with other things, all then <i>public property</i>. A +history, a <i>true history</i> of this family (which I hope I shall find time +to write) would be a most valuable thing. It would be a nice little +specimen of the way in which these families became possessed of a great +part of their estates. It would show how the poor-rates and the +church-rates came. It would set the whole nation <i>right</i> at once. Some +years ago I had a set of the <i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i> (Scotch), which +contained an account of every other <i>great family</i> in the kingdom; but I +could find in it no account of <i>this</i> family, either under the word +Russell or the word Bedford. I got into a passion with the book, because +it contained no account of the mode of raising the birch-tree; and it +was sold to <i>a son</i> (as I was told) of Mr. Alderman Heygate; and if that +gentleman look into the book, he will find what I say to be true; but if +I should be in error about this, perhaps he will have the goodness to +let me know it. I shall be obliged to any one to point me out any +printed account of this family; and particularly to tell me where I can +get an old folio, containing (amongst other things) Bulstrode’s argument +and narrative in justification of the sentence and execution of Lord +William Russell, in the reign of Charles the Second. It is impossible to +look at the now-miserable village of Thorney, and to think of its +once-splendid abbey; it is impossible to look at the <i>twenty thousand +acres</i> of land around, covered with fat sheep, or bearing six quarters +of wheat or ten of oats to the acre, without any manure; it is +impossible to think of these without feeling a desire that the whole +nation should know all about the <i>surprising merits</i> of the possessors.</p> + +<p>Wisbeach, lying farther up the arm of the sea than Lynn, is, like the +latter, a little town of commerce, chiefly engaged in exporting to the +south, <i>the corn</i> that grows in this productive country. It is a good +solid town, though not handsome, and has a large market, particularly +for corn.</p> + +<p>To Crowland, I went, as before stated, from Wisbeach, staying two nights +at St. Edmund’s. Here I was in the heart of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> Fens. The whole country +as <i>level</i> as the table on which I am now writing. The horizon like the +sea in a dead calm: you see the morning sun come up, just as at sea; and +see it go down over the rim, in just the same way as at sea in a calm. +The land covered with beautiful grass, with sheep lying about upon it, +as fat as hogs stretched out sleeping in a stye. The kind and polite +friends, with whom we were lodged, had a very neat garden, and fine +young orchard. Everything grows well here: earth without a stone so big +as a pin’s head; grass as thick as it can grow on the ground; immense +bowling-greens separated by ditches; and not the sign of dock or thistle +or other weed to be seen. What a contrast between these and the +heath-covered sand-hills of Surrey, amongst which I was born! Yet the +labourers, who spuddle about the ground in the little <i>dips</i> between +those sand-hills, are better off than those that exist in this fat of +the land. <i>Here</i> the grasping system takes <i>all</i> away, because it has +the means of coming at the value of all: <i>there</i>, the poor man enjoys +<i>something</i>, because he is thought too poor to have anything: he is +there allowed to have what is deemed <i>worth nothing</i>; but here, where +every inch is valuable, not one inch is he permitted to enjoy.</p> + +<p>At Crowland also (still in the Fens) was a great and rich <i>abbey</i>, a +good part of the magnificent ruins of the church of which are still +standing, one corner or part of it being used as the <i>parish church</i>, by +the worms, which have crept out of the dead bodies of those who lived in +the days of the founders;</p> + +<p class="poem">“And wond’ring man could want the larger pile,<br /> +Exult, and claim the corner with a smile.”</p> + +<p>They tell you, that all the country at and near Crowland was a mere +swamp, a mere bog, <i>bearing nothing</i>, bearing nothing worth naming, +until the <i>modern drainings</i> took place! The thing called the +“Reformation,” has lied common sense out of men’s minds. So <i>likely</i> a +thing to choose a barren swamp whereon, or wherein, to make the site of +an abbey, and of a benedictine abbey too! It has been always observed, +that the monks took care to choose for their places of abode, pleasant +spots, surrounded by productive land. The likeliest thing in the world +for these monks to choose a swamp for their dwelling-place, surrounded +by land that produced nothing good! The thing gives the lie to itself: +and it is impossible to reject the belief, that these Fens were as +productive of corn and meat a thousand years ago, and more so, than they +are at this hour. There is a curious triangular bridge here, on one part +of which stands the statue of one of the ancient kings. It is all of +great age; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span> everything shows that Crowland was a place of importance +in the earliest times.</p> + +<p>From Crowland to Lynn, through Thorney and Wisbeach, is all Fens, well +besprinkled, formerly, with monasteries of various descriptions, and +still well set with magnificent churches. From Lynn to Holbeach you get +out of the real Fens, and into the land that I attempted to describe, +when, a few pages back, I was speaking of Holbeach. I say attempted; for +I defy tongue or pen to make the description adequate to the matter: to +know what the thing is, you must <i>see</i> it. The same land continues all +the way on to Boston: endless grass and endless fat sheep; not a stone, +not a weed.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Boston, Sunday, 11th April, 1830.</i></p> + +<p>Last night, I made a speech at the playhouse to an audience, whose +appearance was sufficient to fill me with pride. I had given notice that +I should perform <i>on Friday</i>, overlooking the circumstance that it was +Good Friday. In apologising for this inadvertence, I took occasion to +observe, that even if I had persevered, the clergy of the church could +have nothing to object, seeing that they were now silent while a bill +was passing in Parliament to put <i>Jews</i> on a level with <i>Christians</i>; to +enable Jews, the blasphemers of the Redeemer, to sit on the bench, to +sit in both Houses of Parliament, to sit in council with the King, and +to be kings of England, if entitled to the Crown, which, by possibility, +they might become, if this bill were to pass; that to this bill <i>the +clergy had offered no opposition</i>; and that, therefore, how could they +hold sacred the anniversary appointed to commemorate the crucifixion of +Christ by the hands of the blaspheming and bloody Jews? That, at any +rate, if this bill passed; if those who called Jesus Christ an +<i>impostor</i> were thus declared to be <i>as good</i> as those who adored him, +there was not, I hoped, a man in the kingdom who would pretend, that it +would be just to compel the people to pay tithes, and fees, and +offerings, to men for <i>teaching Christianity</i>. This was a <i>clincher</i>; +and as such it was received.</p> + +<p>This morning I went out at six, looked at the town, walked three miles +on the road to Spilsby, and back to breakfast at nine. Boston (<i>bos</i> is +Latin for <i>ox</i>) though not above a fourth or fifth part of the size of +its <i>daughter</i> in New England, which got its name, I dare say, from some +persecuted native of this place, who had quitted England and all her +wealth and all her glories, to preserve that <i>freedom</i>, which was still +more dear to him; though not a town like New Boston, and though little +to what it formerly was, when agricultural produce was the great staple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span> +of the kingdom and the great subject of foreign exchange, is, +nevertheless, a very fine town; good houses, good shops, pretty gardens +about it, a fine open place, nearly equal to that of Nottingham, in the +middle of it a river and a canal passing through it, each crossed by a +handsome and substantial bridge, a fine market for sheep, cattle, and +pigs, and another for meat, butter, and fish; and being, like Lynn, a +great place for the export of corn and flour, and having many fine +mills, it is altogether a town of very considerable importance; and, +which is not to be overlooked, inhabited by people none of whom appear +to be in misery.</p> + +<p>The great pride and glory of the Bostonians, is <i>their church</i>, which +is, I think, 400 feet long, 90 feet wide, and has a tower (or steeple, +as they call it) 300 feet high, which is both a land-mark and a +sea-mark. To describe the richness, the magnificence, the symmetry, the +exquisite beauty of this pile, is wholly out of my power. It is +impossible to look at it without feeling, first, admiration and +reverence and gratitude to the memory of our fathers who reared it; and +next, indignation at those who affect to believe, and contempt for those +who do believe, that, when this pile was reared, the age was <i>dark</i>, the +people rude and ignorant, and the country <i>destitute of wealth</i> and +<i>thinly peopled</i>. Look at this church, then; look at the heaps of white +rubbish that the parsons have lately stuck up under the “<i>New-church +Act</i>,” and which, after having been built with money forced from the +nation by odious taxes, they have stuffed full of <i>locked-up pens</i>, +called <i>pews</i>, which they let for money, as cattle- and sheep- and +pig-pens are let at fairs and markets; nay, after having looked at this +work of the “<i>dark</i> ages,” look at that great, heavy, ugly, unmeaning +mass of stone called St. <span class="smcap">Paul’s</span>, which an American friend of mine, who +came to London from Falmouth and had seen the cathedrals at Exeter and +Salisbury, swore to me, that when he first saw it, he was at a loss to +guess whether it were a <i>court-house</i> or a <i>jail</i>; after looking at +Boston Church, go and look at that great, gloomy lump, created by a +Protestant Parliament, and by taxes wrung by force from the whole +nation; and then say which is the age really meriting the epithet +<i>dark</i>.</p> + +<p>St. Botolph, to whom this church is dedicated, while he (if saints see +and hear what is passing on earth) must lament that the piety-inspiring +mass has been, in this noble edifice, supplanted by the monotonous +hummings of an oaken hutch, has not the mortification to see his church +treated in a manner as if the new possessors sighed for the hour of its +destruction. It is taken great care of; and though it has cruelly +suffered from <i>Protestant repairs</i>; though the images are gone and the +stained glass; and though the glazing is now in squares instead of +lozenges;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span> though the nave is stuffed with <i>pens</i> called pews; and +though other changes have taken place detracting from the beauty of the +edifice, great care is taken of it as it now is, and the inside is not +disfigured and disgraced by a <i>gallery</i>, that great and characteristic +mark of Protestant taste, which, as nearly as may be, makes a church +like a playhouse. Saint Botolph (on the supposition before mentioned) +has the satisfaction to see, that the base of his celebrated church is +surrounded by an iron fence, to keep from it all offensive and corroding +matter, which is so disgusting to the sight round the magnificent piles +at Norwich, Ely and other places; that the churchyard, and all +appertaining to it, are kept in the neatest and most respectable state; +that no money has been spared for these purposes; that here the eye +tells the heart, that gratitude towards the fathers of the Bostonians is +not extinguished in the breasts of their sons; and this the Saint will +know that he owes to the circumstances, that the parish is a poor +vicarage, and that the care of his church is in the hands of <i>the +industrious people</i>, and not in those of a fat and luxurious dean and +chapter, wallowing in wealth derived from the people’s labour.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Horncastle, 12th April.</i></p> + +<p>A fine, soft, showery morning saw us out of Boston, carrying with us the +most pleasing reflections as to our reception and treatment there by +numerous persons, none of whom we had ever seen before. The face of the +country, for about half the way, the soil, the grass, the endless sheep, +the thickly-scattered and magnificent churches, continue as on the other +side of Boston; but, after that, we got out of the low and level land. +At Sibsey, a pretty village five miles from Boston, we saw, for the +first time since we left Peterborough, land rising above the level of +the horizon; and, not having seen such a thing for so long, it had +struck my daughters, who overtook me on the road (I having walked on +from Boston), that the sight had an effect like that produced by the +first <i>sight of land</i> after a voyage across the Atlantic.</p> + +<p>We now soon got into a country of hedges and dry land and gravel and +clay and stones; the land not bad, however; pretty much like that of +Sussex, lying between the forest part and the South Downs. A good +proportion of woodland also; and just before we got to Horncastle, we +passed the park of that Mr. Dymock who is called “the Champion of +England,” and to whom, it is said hereabouts, that we pay out of the +taxes eight thousand pounds a year! This never can be, to be sure; but +if we pay him only a hundred a year, I will lay down my <i>glove</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span> against +that of the “Champion,” that we do not pay him even <i>that</i> for five +years longer.</p> + +<p>It is curious, that the moment you get out of the <i>rich land</i>, the +churches become <i>smaller</i>, <i>mean</i>, and with scarcely anything in the way +of <i>tower</i> or <i>steeple</i>. This town is seated in the middle of a large +valley, not, however, remarkable for anything of peculiar value or +beauty; a purely agricultural town; well built, and not mean in any part +of it. It is a great rendezvous for horses and cattle, and +sheep-dealers, and for those who sell these; and accordingly, it suffers +severely from the loss of the small paper-money.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Horncastle, 13th April, Morning.</i></p> + +<p>I made a speech last evening to from 130 to 150, almost all farmers, and +most men of apparent wealth to a certain extent. I have seldom been +better pleased with my audience. It is not the clapping and huzzaing +that I value so much as the <i>silent attention</i>, the <i>earnest look</i> at me +from <i>all eyes</i> at once, and then when the point is concluded, the <i>look +and nod at each other</i>, as if the parties were saying, “<i>Think of +that!</i>” And of these I had a great deal at Horncastle. They say that +there are <i>a hundred parish churches within six miles of this town</i>. I +dare say that there was one farmer from almost every one of those +parishes. This is sowing the seeds of truth in a very sure manner: it is +not scattering broadcast; it is really <i>drilling the country</i>.</p> + +<p>There is one deficiency, and that, with me, a great one, throughout this +country of corn and grass and oxen and sheep, that I have come over +during the last three weeks; namely, the want of <i>singing birds</i>. We are +now just in that season when they sing most. Here, in all this country, +I have seen and heard only about four sky-larks, and not one other +singing bird of any description, and, of the small birds that do not +sing, I have seen only one <i>yellow-hammer</i>, and it was perched on the +rail of a pound between Boston and Sibsey. Oh! the thousands of linnets +all singing together on one tree, in the sand-hills of Surrey! Oh! the +carolling in the coppices and the dingles of Hampshire and Sussex and +Kent! At this moment (5 o’clock in the morning) the groves at Barn Elm +are echoing with the warblings of thousands upon thousands of birds. The +<i>thrush</i> begins a little before it is light; next the <i>black-bird</i>; next +the <i>larks</i> begin to rise; all the rest begin the moment the sun gives +the signal; and, from the hedges, the bushes, from the middle and the +topmost twigs of the trees, comes the singing of endless variety; from +the long dead grass comes the sound of the sweet and soft voice of the +<i>white-throat</i> or <i>nettle-tom</i>, while the loud and merry song of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span> the +<i>lark</i> (the songster himself out of sight) seems to descend from the +skies. <span class="smcap">Milton</span>, in his description of paradise, has not omitted the “song +of earliest birds.” However, everything taken together, here, in +Lincolnshire, are more good things than man could have had the +conscience to <i>ask</i> of God.</p> + +<p>And now, if I had time and room to describe the state of <i>men’s affairs</i> +in the country through which I have passed, I should show that the +people at Westminster would have known, how to turn paradise itself into +hell. I must, however, defer this until my next, when I shall have been +at Hull and Lincoln, and have had a view of the whole of this rich and +fine country. In the meanwhile, however, I cannot help congratulating +that <i>sensible</i> fellow, Wilmot Horton, and his co-operator, Burdett, +that Emigration is going on at a swimming rate. Thousands are going, and +that, too, <i>without mortgaging the poor-rates</i>. But, <i>sensible</i> fellows! +it is not the <i>aged</i>, the <i>halt</i>, the <i>ailing</i>; it is not the <i>paupers</i> +that are going; but men with from 200<i>l.</i> to 2,000<i>l.</i> in their pocket! +This very year, from two to five millions of pounds sterling will +actually be carried <i>from England</i> to the United States. The Scotch, who +have money to pay their passages, go to New York; those who have none +get carried to Canada, that they may thence get into the United States. +I will inquire, one of these days, what <i>right</i> Burdett has to live in +England more than those whom he proposes to send away.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Spittal, near Lincoln, 19th April 1830.</i></p> + +<p>Here we are, at the end of a pretty decent trip since we left Boston. +The next place, on our way to Hull, was Horncastle, where I preached +politics in the playhouse to a most respectable body of farmers, who had +come in the wet to meet me. Mr. John Peniston, who had invited me to +stop there, behaved in a very obliging manner, and made all things very +pleasant.</p> + +<p>The country <i>from</i> Boston continued, as I said before, flat for about +half the way to Horncastle, and we then began to see the high land. From +Horncastle I set off two hours before the carriage, and going through a +very pretty village called Ashby, got to another at the foot of a hill, +which, they say, forms part of the <i>Wolds</i>; that is, a ridge of hills. +This second village is called Scamblesby. The vale in which it lies is +very fine land. A hazel mould, rich and light too. I saw a man here +ploughing for barley, after turnips, with <i>one horse</i>: the horse did not +seem to work hard, and the man was <i>singing</i>: I need not say that he was +young; and I dare say he had the good sense to keep his legs under +another man’s table, and to stretch his body on another man’s bed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span>This is a very fine <i>corn country</i>: chalk at bottom: stony near the +surface, in some places: here and there a chalk-pit in the hills: the +shape of the ground somewhat like that of the broadest valleys in +Wiltshire; but the fields not without fences as they are there: fields +from fifteen to forty acres: the hills not downs, as in Wiltshire; but +cultivated all over. The houses white and thatched, as they are in all +chalk countries. The valley at Scamblesby has a little rivulet running +down it, just as in all the chalk countries. The land continues nearly +the same to Louth, which lies in a deep dell, with beautiful pastures on +the surrounding hills, like those that I once admired at Shaftesbury, in +Dorsetshire, and like that near St. Austle, in Cornwall, which I +described in 1808.</p> + +<p>At Louth the wise corporation had <i>refused</i> to let us have the +playhouse; but my friends had prepared a very good place; and I had an +opportunity of addressing crowded audiences two nights running. At no +place have I been better pleased than at Louth. Mr. Paddison, solicitor, +a young gentleman whom I had the honour to know slightly before, and to +know whom, whether I estimate by character or by talent, would be an +honour to any man, was particularly attentive to us. Mr. Naull, +ironmonger, who had had the battle to fight for me for twenty years, +expressed his exultation at my triumph in a manner that showed that he +justly participated it with me. I breakfasted at Mr. Naull’s with a +gentleman 88 or 89 years of age, whose joy at shaking me by the hand was +excessive. “Ah!” said he, “where are <i>now</i> those savages who, at Hull, +threatened to kill me for raising my voice against this system?” This is +a very fine town, and has a beautiful church, nearly equal to that at +Boston.</p> + +<p>We left Louth on the morning of Thursday the 15th, and got to Barton on +the Humber by about noon, over a very fine country, large fields, fine +pastures, flocks of those great sheep, of from 200 to 1,000 in a flock; +and here at Barton, we arrived at the northern point of this noble +county, having never seen one single acre of waste land, and not one +acre that would be called bad land, in the south of England. The +<i>Wolds</i>, or high-lands, lie away to our right, from Horncastle to near +Barton; and on the other side of the Wolds lie the <i>Marshes of +Lincolnshire</i>, which extend along the coast from Boston to the mouth of +the Humber, on the bank of which we were at Barton, Hull being on the +opposite side of the river, which is here about five miles wide, and +which we had to cross in a steam-boat.</p> + +<p>But let me not forget Great Grimsby, at which we changed horses, and +breakfasted, in our way from Louth to Barton. “What the devil!” the +reader will say, “should you want to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span> recollect <i>that</i> place for? Why do +you want not to forget that sink of corruption? What could you find +there to be snatched from everlasting oblivion, except for the purpose +of being execrated?” I did, however, find something there worthy of +being made known, not only to every man in England but to every man in +the world; and not to mention it here would be to be guilty of the +greatest injustice.</p> + +<p>To my surprise I found a good many people assembled at the inn-door, +evidently expecting my arrival. While breakfast was preparing, I wished +to speak to the bookseller of the place, if there were one, and to give +him a list of my books and writings, that he might place it in his shop. +When he came, I was surprised to find that he had it already, and that +he, occasionally, sold my books. Upon my asking him how he got it, he +said that it was brought down from London and given to him by a Mr. +Plaskitt, who, he said, had all my writings, and who, he said, he was +sure would be very glad to see me; but that he lived above a mile from +the town. A messenger, however, had gone off to carry the news, and Mr. +Plaskitt arrived before we had done breakfast, bringing with him a son +and a daughter. And from the lips of this gentleman, a man of as kind +and benevolent appearance and manners as I ever beheld in my life, I had +the following facts; namely, “that one of his sons sailed for New York +some years ago; that the ship was cast away on the shores of Long +Island; that the captain, crew, and passengers all perished; that the +wrecked vessel was taken possession of by people on the coast; that his +son had a watch in his trunk, or chest, a purse with fourteen shillings +in it, and divers articles of wearing apparel; that the Americans, who +searched the wreck, <i>sent all these articles safely to England to him</i>”; +“and,” said he, “I keep the purse and the money at home, and <i>here is +the watch in my pocket</i>”!</p> + +<p>It would have been worth the expense of coming from London to Grimsby, +if for nothing but to learn this fact, which I record, not only in +justice to the free people of America, and particularly in justice to my +late neighbours in Long Island, but in justice to the character of +mankind. I publish it as something to counterbalance the conduct of the +atrocious monsters who plunder the wrecks on the coast of Cornwall, and, +as I am told, on the coasts here in the east of the island.</p> + +<p>Away go, then, all the accusations upon the character of the Yankees. +People may call them <i>sharp</i>, <i>cunning</i>, <i>overreaching</i>; and when they +have exhausted the vocabulary of their abuse, the answer is found in +this one fact, stated by Mr. Joshua Plaskitt, of Great Grimsby, in +Lincolnshire, Old England. The person who sent the things to Mr. +Plaskitt was named Jones.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span> It did not occur to me to ask his christian +name, nor to inquire what was the particular place where he lived in +Long Island. I request Mr. Plaskitt to contrive to let me know these +particulars; as I should like to communicate them to friends that I have +on the north side of that island. However, it would excite no surprise +there, that one of their countrymen had acted this part; for every man +of them, having the same opportunity, would do the same. Their +forefathers carried to New England the nature and character of the +people of Old England, before national debts, paper-money, septennial +bills, standing armies, dead-weights, and jubilees, had beggared and +corrupted the people.</p> + +<p>At Hull I <i>lectured</i> (I laugh at the word) to about seven hundred +persons on the same evening that I arrived from Louth, which was on +Thursday the 15th. We had what they call the summer theatre, which was +crowded in every part except on the stage; and the next evening the +stage was crowded too. The third evening was merely accidental, no +previous notice having been given of it. On the Saturday I went in the +middle of the day to Beverley; saw there the beautiful minster, and some +of the fine horses which they show there at this season of the year; +dined with about fifty farmers; made a speech to them and about a +hundred more, perhaps; and got back to Hull time enough to go to the +theatre there.</p> + +<p>The country round Hull appears to exceed even that of Lincolnshire. The +three mornings that I was at Hull I walked out in three different +directions, and found the country everywhere fine. To the east lies the +Holderness country. I used to wonder that Yorkshire, to which I, from +some false impression in my youth, had always attached the idea of +<i>sterility</i>, should send us of the south those beautiful cattle with +short horns and straight and deep bodies. You have only to see the +country to cease to wonder at this. It lies on the north side of the +mouth of the Humber; is as flat and fat as the land between Holbeach and +Boston, without, as they tell me, the necessity of such numerous +ditches. The appellation “Yorkshire <i>bite</i>”; the acute sayings ascribed +to Yorkshiremen; and their quick manner, I remember, in the army. When +speaking of what country a man was, one used to say, in defence of the +party, “York, but honest.” Another saying was that it was a bare common +that a Yorkshireman would go over without taking a bite. Every one knows +the story of the gentleman who, upon finding that a boot-cleaner in the +south was a Yorkshireman, and expressing his surprise that he was not +become master of the inn, received for answer, “Ah, sir, but master is +York too!” And that of the Yorkshire boy who, seeing a gentleman eating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span> +some eggs, asked the cook to give him a little <i>salt</i>; and upon being +asked what he could want with salt, he said, “Perhaps that gentleman may +give me an egg presently.”</p> + +<p>It is surprising what effect sayings like these produce upon the mind. +From one end to the other of the kingdom, Yorkshiremen are looked upon +as being keener than other people; more eager in pursuit of their own +interests; more sharp and more selfish. For my part, I was cured with +regard to the <i>people</i> long before I saw Yorkshire. In the army, where +we see men of all counties, I always found Yorkshiremen distinguished +for their frank manners and generous disposition. In the United States, +my kind and generous friends of Pennsylvania were the children and +descendants of Yorkshire parents; and, in truth, I long ago made up my +mind that this hardness and sharpness ascribed to Yorkshiremen arose +from the sort of envy excited by that quickness, that activity, that +buoyancy of spirits, which bears them up through adverse circumstances, +and their conquent success in all the situations of life. They, like the +people of Lancashire, are just the very reverse of being <i>cunning</i> and +<i>selfish</i>; be they farmers, or be they what they may, you get at the +bottom of their hearts in a minute. Everything they think soon gets to +the tongue, and out it comes, heads and tails, as fast as they can pour +it. Fine materials for Oliver to work on! If he had been sent to the +<i>west</i> instead of the north, he would have found people there on whom he +would have exercised his powers in vain. You are not to have every +valuable quality in the same man and the same people: you are not to +have prudent caution united with quickness and volubility.</p> + +<p>But though, as to the character of the <i>people</i>, I, having known so many +hundreds of Yorkshiremen, was perfectly enlightened, and had quite got +the better of all prejudices many years ago, I still, in spite of the +matchless horses and matchless cattle, had a general impression that +Yorkshire was a <i>sterile</i> county, compared with the counties in the +south and the west; and this notion was confirmed in some measure by my +seeing the moory and rocky parts in the West Riding last winter. It was +necessary for me to come and see the country on the banks of the Humber. +I have seen the vale of Honiton, in Devonshire, that of Taunton and of +Glastonbury, in Somersetshire: I have seen the vales of Gloucester and +Worcester, and the banks of the Severn and the Avon: I have seen the +vale of Berkshire, that of Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire: I have seen +the beautiful vales of Wiltshire; and the banks of the Medway, from +Tunbridge to Maidstone, called the Garden of Eden: I was born at one end +of Arthur Young’s “finest ten miles in England:” I have ridden my horse +across the Thames at its two sources;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[Pg 526]</a></span> and I have been along every inch +of its banks, from its sources, to Gravesend, whence I have sailed out +of it into the channel; and having seen and had ability to judge of the +goodness of the land in all these places, I declare that I have never +seen any to be compared with the land on the banks of the Humber, from +the Holderness country included, and with the exception of the land from +Wisbeach to Holbeach, and Holbeach to Boston. Really, the single parish +of Holbeach, or a patch of the same size in the Holderness country, +seems to be equal in value to the whole of the county of Surrey, if we +leave out the little plot of hop-garden at Farnham.</p> + +<p>Nor is the town of Hull itself to be overlooked. It is a little city of +London: streets, shops, everything like it; clean as the best parts of +London, and the people as bustling and attentive. The town of Hull is +<i>surrounded</i> with commodious docks for shipping. These docks are +separated, in three or four places, by draw-bridges; so that, as you +walk round the town, you walk by the side of the docks and the ships. +The town on the outside of the docks is pretty considerable, and the +walks from it into the country beautiful. I went about a good deal, and +I nowhere saw marks of beggary or filth, even in the outskirts: none of +those nasty, shabby, thief-looking sheds that you see in the approaches +to London: none of those off-scourings of pernicious and insolent +luxury. I hate commercial towns in general: there is generally something +so loathsome in the look, and so stern and unfeeling in the manners of +seafaring people, that I have always, from my very youth, disliked +sea-ports; but really the sight of this nice town, the manners of its +people, the civil, and kind and cordial reception that I met with, and +the clean streets, and especially the pretty gardens in every direction, +as you walk into the country, has made Hull, though a sea-port, a place +that I shall always look back to with delight.</p> + +<p>Beverley, which was formerly a very considerable city, with three or +four gates, one of which is yet standing, had a great college, built in +the year 700 by the Archbishop of York. It had three famous hospitals +and two friaries. There is one church, a very fine one, and the minster +still left; of which a bookseller in the town was so good as to give me +copper-plate representations. It is still a very pretty town; the market +large; the land all round the country good; and it is particularly +famous for horses; those for speed being shown off here on the +market-days at this time of the year. The farmers and gentlemen assemble +in a very wide street, on the outside of the western gate of the town; +and at a certain time of the day the grooms come from their different +stables to show off their beautiful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[Pg 527]</a></span> horses; blood horses, coach horses, +hunters, and cart horses; sometimes, they tell me, forty or fifty in +number. The day that I was there (being late in the season) there were +only seven or eight, or ten at the most. When I was asked at the inn to +go and see “<i>the horses</i>,” I had no curiosity, thinking it was such a +parcel of horses as we see at a market in the south; but I found it a +sight worth going to see; for besides the beauty of the horses, there +were the adroitness, the agility, and the boldness of the grooms, each +running alongside of his horse, with the latter trotting at the rate of +ten or twelve miles an hour, and then swinging him round, and showing +him off to the best advantage. In short, I was exceedingly gratified by +the trip to Beverley: the day was fair and mild; we went by one road and +came back by another, and I have very seldom passed a pleasanter day in +my life.</p> + +<p>I found, very much to my surprise, that at Hull I was very nearly as far +north as at Leeds, and, at Beverley, a little farther north. Of all +things in the world, I wanted to speak to Mr. Foster of the <i>Leeds +Patriot</i>; but was not aware of the relative situation till it was too +late to write to him. Boats go up the Humber and the Ouse to within a +few miles of Leeds. The Holderness country is that piece of land which +lies between Hull and the sea: it appears to be a perfect flat; and is +said to be, and I dare say is, one of the very finest spots in the whole +kingdom. I had a very kind invitation to go into it; but I could not +stay longer on that side of the Humber without neglecting some duty or +other. In quitting Hull, I left behind me but one thing, the sight of +which had not pleased me; namely, a fine gilded equestrian statue of the +Dutch “<i>Deliverer</i>,” who gave to England the national debt, that +fruitful mother of mischief and misery. Until this statue be replaced by +that of Andrew Marvell, that real honour of this town, England will +never be what it ought to be.</p> + +<p>We came back to Barton by the steam-boat on Sunday in the afternoon of +the 18th, and in the evening reached this place, which is an inn, with +three or four houses near it, at the distance of ten miles from Lincoln, +to which we are going on Wednesday, the 21st. Between this place and +Barton we passed through a delightfully pretty town called Brigg. The +land in this, which is called the high part of Lincolnshire, has +generally stone, a solid bed of stone of great depth, at different +distances from the surface. In some parts this stone is of a yellowish +colour, and in the form of very thick slate; and in these parts the soil +is not so good; but, generally speaking, the land is excellent; easily +tilled; no surface water; the fields very large; not many trees; but +what there are, particularly the ash, very fine, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[Pg 528]</a></span> of free growth; +and innumerable flocks of those big, long-woolled sheep, from one +hundred to a thousand in a flock, each having from eight to ten pounds +of wool upon its body. One of the finest sights in the world is one of +these thirty or forty-acre fields, with four or five or six hundred +ewes, each with her one or two lambs skipping about upon grass, the most +beautiful that can be conceived, and on lands as level as a +bowling-green. I do not recollect having seen a mole-hill or an ant-hill +since I came into the country; and not one acre of waste land, though I +have gone the whole length of the country one way, and am now got nearly +half way back another way.</p> + +<p>Having seen this country, and having had a glimpse at the Holderness +country, which lies on the banks of the sea, and to the east and +north-east of Hull, can I cease to wonder that those devils, the Danes, +found their way hither so often. There were the fat sheep then, just as +there are now, depend upon it; and these numbers of noble churches, and +these magnificent minsters, were reared because the wealth of the +country remained <i>in the country</i>, and was not carried away to the +south, to keep swarms of devouring tax-eaters, to cram the maws of +wasteful idlers, and to be transferred to the grasp of luxurious and +blaspheming Jews.</p> + +<p>You always perceive that the churches are large and fine and lofty, in +proportion to the richness of the soil and the extent of the parish. In +many places where there are <i>now</i> but a very few houses, and those +comparatively miserable, there are churches that look like cathedrals. +It is quite curious to observe the difference in the style of the +churches of Suffolk and Norfolk, and those of Lincolnshire, and of the +other bank of the Humber. In the former two counties the churches are +good, large, and with a good, plain, and pretty lofty tower. And in a +few instances, particularly at Ipswich and Long Melford, you find +magnificence in these buildings; but in Lincolnshire the magnificence of +the churches is surprising. These churches are the indubitable proof of +great and solid wealth, and formerly of great population. From +everything that I have heard, the <i>Netherlands</i> is a country very much +resembling Lincolnshire; and they say that the church at Antwerp is like +that at Boston; but my opinion is, that Lincolnshire alone contains more +of these fine buildings than the whole of the continent of Europe.</p> + +<p>Still, however, there is the almost total want of the <i>singing birds</i>. +There had been a shower a little while before we arrived at this place; +it was about six o’clock in the evening; and there is a thick wood, +together with the orchards and gardens, very near to the inn. We heard a +little twittering from one thrush; but at that very moment, if we had +been as near to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[Pg 529]</a></span> just such a wood in Surrey, or Hampshire, or Sussex, or +Kent, we should have heard ten thousand birds singing altogether; and +the thrushes continuing their song till twenty minutes after sunset. +When I was at Ipswich, the gardens and plantations round that beautiful +town began in the morning to ring with the voices of the different +birds. The nightingale is, I believe, <i>never heard</i> anywhere on the +eastern side of Lincolnshire; though it is sometimes heard in the same +latitude in the dells of Yorkshire. How ridiculous it is to suppose that +these frail birds, with their slender wings and proportionately heavy +bodies, <i>cross the sea</i>, and come back again! I have not yet heard more +than half a dozen skylarks; and I have, only last year, heard ten at a +time make the air ring over one of my fields at Barn-Elm. This is a +great drawback from the pleasure of viewing this fine country.</p> + +<p>It is time for me now, withdrawing myself from these objects visible to +the eye, to speak of the state of <i>the people</i>, and of the manner in +which their affairs are affected by the workings of the system. With +regard to the labourers, they are, everywhere, miserable. The wages for +those who are employed on the land are, through all the counties that I +have come, twelve shillings a week for married men, and less for single +ones; but a large part of them are not even at this season employed on +the land. The farmers, for want of means of profitable employment, +suffer the men to fall upon the parish; and they are employed in digging +and breaking stone for the roads; so that the roads are nice and smooth +for the sheep and cattle to walk on in their way to the all-devouring +jaws of the Jews and other tax-eaters in London and its vicinity. None +of the best meat, except by mere accident, is consumed here. To-day (the +20th of April) we have seen hundreds upon hundreds of sheep, as fat as +hogs, go by this inn door, their toes, like those of the foot-marks at +the entrance of the lion’s den, all pointing towards the Wen; and the +landlord gave us for dinner a little skinny, hard leg of old ewe mutton! +Where the man got it I cannot imagine. Thus it is: every good thing is +literally driven or carried away out of the country. In walking out +yesterday, I saw three poor fellows digging stone for the roads, who +told me that they never had anything but bread to eat, and water to wash +it down. One of them was a widower with three children; and his pay was +eighteen-pence a-day; that is to say, about three pounds of bread a day +each, for six days in the week; nothing for Sunday, and nothing for +lodging, washing, clothing, candle-light, or fuel! Just such was the +state of things in France at the eve of the revolution! Precisely such; +and precisely the same were the <i>causes</i>. Whether the effect will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[Pg 530]</a></span> +the same I do not take upon myself positively to determine. Just on the +other side of the hedge, while I was talking to these men, I saw about +two hundred fat sheep in a rich pasture. I did not tell them what I +might have told them; but I explained to them why the farmers were +unable to give them a sufficiency of wages. They listened with great +attention; and said that they did believe that the farmers were in great +distress themselves.</p> + +<p>With regard to the farmers, it is said here that the far greater part, +if sold up, would be found to be insolvent. The tradesmen in country +towns are, and must be, in but little better state. They all tell you +they do not sell half so many goods as they used to sell; and, of +course, the manufacturers must suffer in the like degree. There is a +diminution and deterioration, every one says, in the stocks upon the +farms. <i>Sheep-washing</i> is a sort of business in this country; and I +heard at Boston that the sheep-washers say that there is a gradual +falling off in point of the numbers of sheep washed.</p> + +<p>The farmers are all gradually sinking in point of property. The very +rich ones do not feel that ruin is absolutely approaching; but they are +all alarmed; and as to the poorer ones, they are fast falling into the +rank of paupers. When I was at Ely a gentleman who appeared to be a +great farmer told me, in presence of fifty farmers at the White Hart +inn, that he had seen that morning <i>three men</i> cracking stones on the +road as paupers of the parish of Wilbarton; and that all these men had +been <i>overseers of the poor of that same parish within the last seven +years</i>. Wheat keeps up in price to about an average of seven shillings a +bushel; which is owing to our two successive bad harvests; but fat beef +and pork are at a very low price, and mutton not much better. The beef +was selling at Lynn for five shillings the stone of fourteen pounds, and +the pork at four and sixpence. The wool (one of the great articles of +produce in these countries) selling for less than half of its former +price.</p> + +<p>And here let me stop to observe that I was well informed before I left +London that merchants were exporting our long wool to France, where it +paid <i>thirty per cent. duty</i>. Well, say the landowners, but we have to +thank Huskisson for this at any rate; and that is true enough; for the +law was most rigid against the export of wool; but what will the +<i>manufacturers</i> say? Thus the collective goes on, smashing one class and +then another; and, resolved to adhere to the taxes, it knocks away, one +after another, the props of the system itself. By every measure that it +adopts for the sake of obtaining security, or of affording relief to the +people, it does some act of crying injustice. To save itself from the +natural effects of its own measures, it knocked down the country +bankers, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[Pg 531]</a></span> direct violation of the law in 1822. It is now about to lay +its heavy hand on the big brewers and the publicans, in order to pacify +the call for a reduction of taxes, and with the hope of preventing such +reduction in reality. It is making a trifling attempt to save the West +Indians from total ruin, and the West India colonies from revolt; but by +that same attempt it reflects injury on the British distillers, and on +the growers of barley. Thus it cannot do justice without doing +injustice; it cannot do good without doing evil; and thus it must +continue to do, until it take off, in reality, more than one half of the +taxes.</p> + +<p>One of the great signs of the poverty of people in the middle rank of +life is the falling off of the audiences at the playhouses. There is a +playhouse in almost every country town, where the players used to act +occasionally; and in large towns almost always. In some places they have +of late abandoned acting altogether. In others they have acted, very +frequently, to not more than <i>ten or twelve persons</i>. At Norwich the +playhouse had been shut up for a long time. I heard of one manager who +has become a porter to a warehouse, and his company dispersed. In most +places the insides of the buildings seem to be tumbling to pieces; and +the curtains and scenes that they let down seem to be abandoned to the +damp and the cobwebs. <i>My</i> appearance on the boards seemed to give new +life to the drama. I was, until the birth of my third son, a constant +haunter of the playhouse, in which I took great delight; but when <i>he</i> +came into the world I said, “Now, Nancy, it is time for us to leave off +going to the play.” It is really melancholy to look at things now, and +to think of things then. I feel great sorrow on account of these poor +players; for, though they are made the tools of the Government and the +corporations and the parsons, it is not their fault, and they have +uniformly, whenever I have come in contact with them, been very civil to +me. I am not sorry that they are left out of the list of vagrants in the +new Act; but in this case, as in so many others, the men have to be +grateful to the <i>women</i>; for who believes that this merciful omission +would have taken place, if so many of the peers had not contracted +matrimonial alliances with players; if so many playeresses had not +become peeresses. We may thank God for disposing the hearts of our +law-makers to be guilty of the same sins and foibles as ourselves; for +when a lord had been sentenced to the pillory, the use of that ancient +mode of punishing offences was abolished: when a lord (<span class="smcap">Castlereagh</span>), who +was also a minister of state, had cut his own throat, the degrading +punishment of burial in cross-roads was abolished; and now, when so many +peers and great men have taken to wife play-actresses, which the law<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[Pg 532]</a></span> +termed <i>vagrants</i>, that term, as applied to the children of Melpomene +and Thalia, is abolished! Laud we the Gods that our rulers cannot after +all divest themselves of flesh and blood! For the Lord have mercy upon +us if their great souls were once to soar above that tenement!</p> + +<p>Lord Stanhope cautioned his brother peers a little while ago against the +angry feeling which was <i>rising up in the poor against the rich</i>. His +Lordship is a wise and humane man, and this is evident from all his +conduct. Nor is this angry feeling confined to the counties in the +south, where the rage of the people, from the very nature of the local +circumstances, is more formidable; woods and coppices and dingles and +bye-lanes and sticks and stones ever at hand, being resources unknown in +counties like this. When I was at St. Ives, in Huntingdonshire, an open +country, I sat with the farmers, and smoked a pipe by way of preparation +for evening service, which I performed on a carpenter’s bench in a +wheelwright’s shop; my friends, the players, never having gained any +regular settlement in that grand mart for four-legged fat meat, coming +from the Fens, and bound to the Wen. While we were sitting, a hand-bill +was handed round the table, advertising <i>farming stock</i> for sale; and +amongst the implements of husbandry “an <i>excellent fire-engine, several +steel traps, and spring guns</i>”! And that is the life, is it, of an +<i>English farmer</i>? I walked on about six miles of the road from Holbeach +to Boston. I have before observed upon the inexhaustible riches of this +land. At the end of about five miles and three quarters I came to a +public-house, and thought I would get some breakfast; but the poor +woman, with a tribe of children about her, had not a morsel of either +meat or bread! At a house called an inn, a little further on, the +landlord had no meat except a little bit of chine of bacon; and though +there were a good many houses near the spot, the landlord told me that +the people were become so poor that the butchers had left off killing +meat in the neighbourhood. Just the state of things that existed in +France on the eve of the Revolution. On that very spot I looked round +me, and counted more than two thousand fat sheep in the pastures! How +long; how long, good God! is this state of things to last? How long will +these people starve in the midst of plenty? How long will fire-engines, +steel traps, and spring guns be, in such a state of things, a protection +to property? When I was at Beverley a gentleman told me, it was Mr. +Dawson of that place, that some time before a farmer had been sold up by +his landlord; and that, in a few weeks afterwards, the farmhouse was on +fire, and that when the servants of the landlord arrived to put it out +they found the handle of the pump taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[Pg 533]</a></span> away, and that the homestead +was totally destroyed. This was told me in the presence of several +gentlemen, who all spoke of it as a fact of perfect notoriety.</p> + +<p>Another respect in which our situation so exactly resembles that of +France on the eve of the Revolution is the <i>fleeing from the country</i> in +every direction. When I was in Norfolk there were four hundred persons, +generally young men, labourers, carpenters, wheelwrights, millwrights, +smiths, and bricklayers; most of them with some money, and some farmers +and others with good round sums. These people were going to Quebec in +timber-ships, and from Quebec by land into the United States. They had +been told that they would not be suffered to land in the United States +from on board of ship. The roguish villains had deceived them: but no +matter; they will get into the United States; and going through Canada +will do them good, for it will teach them to detest everything belonging +to it. From Boston, two great barge loads had just gone off by canal to +Liverpool, most of them farmers; all carrying some money, and some as +much as two thousand pounds each. From the North and West Riding of +Yorkshire numerous wagons have gone carrying people to the canals +leading to Liverpool; and a gentleman, whom I saw at Peterboro’, told me +that he saw some of them; and that the men all appeared to be +respectable farmers. At Hull the scene would delight the eyes of the +wise Burdett; for here the emigration is going on in the “Old Roman +Plan.” Ten large ships have gone this spring, laden with these fugitives +from the fangs of taxation; some bound direct to the ports of the United +States; others, like those at Yarmouth, for Quebec. Those that have most +money go direct to the United States. The single men, who are taken for +a mere trifle in the Canada ships, go that way, have nothing but their +carcasses to carry over the rocks and swamps, and through the myriads of +place-men and pensioners in that miserable region; there are about +fifteen more ships going from this one port this spring. The ships are +fitted up with berths as transports for the carrying of troops. I went +on board one morning, and saw the people putting their things on board +and stowing them away. Seeing a nice young woman, with a little baby in +her arms, I told her that she was going to a country where she would be +sure that her children would never want victuals; where she might make +her own malt, soap, and candles without being half put to death for it, +and where the blaspheming Jews would not have a mortgage on the life’s +labour of her children.</p> + +<p>There is at Hull one farmer going who is seventy years of age; but who +takes out five sons and fifteen hundred pounds! Brave and sensible old +man! and good and affectionate father!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[Pg 534]</a></span> He is performing a truly +parental and sacred duty; and he will die with the blessing of his sons +on his head for having rescued them from this scene of slavery, misery, +cruelty, and crime. Come, then, Wilmot Horton, with your sensible +associates, Burdett and Poulett Thomson; come into Lincolnshire, +Norfolk, and Yorkshire; come and bring Parson Malthus along with you; +regale your sight with this delightful “stream of emigration”; +congratulate the “greatest captain of the age,” and your brethren of the +Collective: congratulate the “noblest assembly of free men,” on these +the happy effects of their measures. Oh! no, Wilmot! Oh! no, generous +and sensible Burdett, it is not the aged, the infirm, the halt, the +blind, and the idiots that go: it is the youth, the strength, the +wealth, and the spirit, that will no longer brook hunger and thirst in +order that the maws of tax-eaters and Jews may be crammed. You want the +Irish to go, and so they will <i>at our expense</i>, and all the bad of them, +to be kept at our expense on the rocks and swamps of Nova Scotia and +Canada. You have no money to send them away with: the tax-eaters want it +all; and thanks to the “improvements of the age,” the steam-boats will +continue to bring them in shoals in pursuit of the orts of the food that +their task-masters have taken away from them.</p> + +<p>After evening lecture at Horncastle a very decent farmer came to me and +asked me about America, telling me that he was resolved to go, for that +if he stayed much longer he should not have a shilling to go with. I +promised to send him a letter from Louth to a friend at New York, who +might be useful to him there and give him good advice. I forgot it at +Louth; but I will do it before I go to bed. From the Thames, and from +the several ports down the Channel, about two thousand have gone this +spring. All the flower of the labourers of the east of Sussex and west +of Kent will be culled out and sent off in a short time. From Glasgow +the sensible Scotch are pouring out amain. Those that are poor and +cannot pay their passages, or can rake together only a trifle, are going +to a rascally heap of sand and rock and swamp, called Prince Edward’s +Island, in the horrible Gulf of St. Lawrence; but when the American +vessels come over with Indian corn and flour and pork and beef and +poultry and eggs and butter and cabbages and green pease and asparagus +for the soldier-officers and other tax-eaters, that we support upon that +lump of worthlessness; for the lump itself bears nothing but potatoes; +when these vessels come, which they are continually doing, winter and +summer; towards the fall, with apples and pears and melons and +cucumbers; and, in short, everlastingly coming and taking away the +amount of taxes raised in England; when these vessels return, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[Pg 535]</a></span> +sensible Scotch will go back in them for a dollar a head, till at last +not a man of them will be left but the bed-ridden. Those villanous +colonies are held for no earthly purpose but that of furnishing a +pretence of giving money to the relations and dependents of the +aristocracy; and they are the nicest channels in the world through which +to send English taxes to enrich and strengthen the United States. +Withdraw the English taxes, and, except in a small part in Canada, the +whole of those horrible regions would be left to the bears and the +savages in the course of a year.</p> + +<p>This emigration is a famous blow given to the borough-mongers. The way +to New York is now as well known and as easy, and as little expensive as +from old York to London. First, the Sussex parishes sent their paupers; +they invited over others that were not paupers; they invited over people +of some property; then persons of greater property; now substantial +farmers are going; men of considerable fortune will follow. It is the +letters written across the Atlantic that do the business. Men of fortune +will soon discover that to secure to their families their fortunes, and +to take these out of the grasp of the inexorable tax-gatherer, they must +get away. Every one that goes will take twenty after him; and thus it +will go on. There can be no interruption but <i>war</i>; and war the Thing +dares not have. As to France or the Netherlands, or any part of that +hell called Germany, Englishmen can never settle there. The United +States form another England without its unbearable taxes, its insolent +game-laws, its intolerable dead-weight, and its tread-mills.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>EASTERN TOUR ENDED, MIDLAND TOUR BEGUN.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Lincoln, 23rd April 1830.</i></p> + +<p>From the inn at Spittal we came to this famous ancient Roman station, +and afterwards grand scene of Saxon and Gothic splendour, on the 21st. +It was the third or fourth day of the <i>Spring fair</i>, which is one of the +greatest in the kingdom, and which lasts for a whole week. Horses begin +the fair; then come sheep; and to-day, the horned-cattle. It is supposed +that there were about 50,000 sheep, and I think the whole of the space +in the various roads and streets, covered by the cattle, must have +amounted to ten acres of ground or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[Pg 536]</a></span> more. Some say that they were as +numerous as the sheep. The number of horses I did not hear; but they say +that there were 1,500 fewer in number than last year. The sheep sold +5<i>s.</i> a head, on an average, lower than last year; and the cattle in the +same proportion. High-priced horses sold well; but the horses which are +called tradesmen’s horses were very low. This is the natural march of +the Thing: those who live on the taxes have money to throw away; but +those who <i>pay</i> them are ruined, and have, of course, no money to lay +out on horses.</p> + +<p>The country from Spittal to Lincoln continued to be much about the same +as from Barton to Spittal. Large fields, rather light loam at top, stone +under, about half corn-land and the rest grass. Not so many sheep as in +the richer lands, but a great many still. As you get on towards Lincoln, +the ground gradually rises, and you go on the road made by the Romans. +When you come to the city you find the ancient castle and the +magnificent cathedral on the <i>brow</i> of a sort of ridge which ends here; +for you look all of a sudden down into a deep valley, where the greater +part of the remaining city lies. It once had <i>fifty-two churches</i>; it +has now only eight, and only about 9,000 inhabitants! The cathedral is, +I believe, the <i>finest building in the whole world</i>. All the others that +I have seen (and I have seen all in England except Chester, York, +Carlisle, and Durham) are little things compared with this. To the task +of describing a thousandth-part of its striking beauties I am +inadequate; it surpasses greatly all that I had anticipated; and oh! how +loudly it gives the lie to those brazen Scotch historians who would have +us believe that England was formerly a <i>poor</i> country! The whole revenue +raised from Lincolnshire, even by this present system of taxation, would +not rear such another pile in two hundred years. Some of the city gates +are down; but there is one standing, the arch of which is said to be two +thousand years old; and a most curious thing it is. The sight of the +cathedral fills the mind alternately with wonder, admiration, +melancholy, and rage: wonder at its grandeur and magnificence; +admiration of the zeal and disinterestedness of those who here devoted +to the honour of God those immense means which they might have applied +to their own enjoyments; melancholy at its present neglected state; and +indignation against those who now enjoy the revenues belonging to it, +and who creep about it merely as a pretext for devouring a part of the +fruit of the people’s labour. There are no men in England who ought to +wish for <i>reform</i> so anxiously as the working clergy of the church of +England; we are all oppressed; but they are oppressed and insulted more +than any men that ever lived in the world. The clergy in America; I mean +in free America, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[Pg 537]</a></span> in our beggarly colonies, where clerical insolence +and partiality prevail still more than here; I mean in the United +States, where every man gives what he pleases, and no more: the clergy +of the episcopal church are a hundred times better off than the working +clergy are here. They are, also, much more respected, because their +<i>order</i> has not to bear the blame of enormous exactions; which exactions +here are swallowed up by the aristocracy and their dependents; but which +swallowings are imputed to every one bearing the name of parson. +Throughout the whole country I have maintained the necessity and the +justice of resuming the church property; but I have never failed to say +that I know of no more meritorious and ill-used men than the working +clergy of the established church.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Leicester, 26th April 1830.</i></p> + +<p>At the famous ancient city of Lincoln I had crowded audiences, +principally consisting of farmers, on the 21st and 22nd; exceedingly +well-behaved audiences; and great impression produced. One of the +evenings, in pointing out to them the wisdom of explaining to their +labourers the cause of their distress, in order to ward off the effects +of the resentment which the labourers now feel everywhere against the +farmers, I related to them what my labourers at Barn-Elm had been doing +since I left home: and I repeated to them the complaints that my +labourers made, stating to them, from memory, the following parts of +that spirited petition:</p> + +<p>“That your petitioners have recently observed that many great sums of +the money, part of which we pay, have been voted to be given to persons +who render no services to the country; some of which sums we will +mention here; that the sum of 94,900<i>l.</i> has been voted for disbanded +<i>foreign</i> officers, their <i>widows</i> and <i>children</i>; that your petitioners +know that ever since the peace this charge has been annually made; that +it has been on an average 110,000<i>l.</i> a-year, and that, of course, this +band of foreigners have actually taken away out of England, since the +peace, one million and seven hundred thousand pounds; partly taken from +the fruit of our labour; and if our dinners were actually taken from our +table and carried over to Hanover, the process could not be to our eyes +more visible than it now is; and we are astonished that those who fear +that we, who make the land bring forth crops, and who make the clothing +and the houses, shall swallow up the rental, appear to think nothing at +all of the swallowings of these Hanoverian men, women, and children, who +may continue thus to swallow for half a century to come.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[Pg 538]</a></span>“That the advocates of the project for sending us out of our country to +the rocks and snows of Nova Scotia, and the swamps and wilds of Canada, +have insisted on the necessity of <i>checking marriages</i> amongst us, in +order to cause a decrease in our numbers; that, however, while this is +insisted on in your honourable House, we perceive a part of our own +earnings voted away to encourage marriage amongst those who do not work, +and who live at our expense; and that to your petitioners it does seem +most wonderful, that there should be persons to fear that we, the +labourers, shall, on account of our numbers, swallow up the rental, +while they actually vote away our food and raiment to increase the +numbers of those who never have produced, and who never will produce, +anything useful to man.</p> + +<p>“That your petitioners know that more than one-half of the whole of +their wages is taken from them by the taxes; that these taxes go chiefly +into the hands of idlers; that your petitioners are the bees, and that +the tax-receivers are the drones; and they know, further, that while +there is a project for sending the bees out of the country, no one +proposes to send away the drones; but that your petitioners hope to see +the day when the checking of the increase of the drones, and not of the +bees, will be the object of an English Parliament.</p> + +<p>“That, in consequence of taxes, your petitioners pay six-pence for a pot +of worse beer than they could make for one penny; that they pay ten +shillings for a pair of shoes that they could have for five shillings; +that they pay seven-pence for a pound of soap or candles that they could +have for three-pence; that they pay seven-pence for a pound of sugar +that they could have for three-pence; that they pay six shillings for a +pound of tea that they could have for two shillings; that they pay +double for their bread and meat of what they would have to pay if there +were no idlers to be kept out of the taxes; that, therefore, it is the +taxes that make their wages insufficient for their support, and that +compel them to apply for aid to the poor-rates; that, knowing these +things, they feel indignant at hearing themselves described as +<i>paupers</i>, while so many thousands of idlers, for whose support they pay +taxes, are called <i>noble Lords</i> and <i>Ladies</i>, <i>honourable Gentlemen</i>, +<i>Masters</i>, and <i>Misses</i>; that they feel indignant at hearing themselves +described as a nuisance to be got rid of, while the idlers who live upon +their earnings are upheld, caressed and cherished, as if they were the +sole support of the country.”</p> + +<p>Having repeated to them these passages, I proceeded: “My workmen were +induced thus to petition in consequence of the information which I, +their master, had communicated to them; and, Gentlemen, why should not +your labourers petition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539]</a></span> in the same strain? Why should you suffer them +to remain in a state of ignorance relative to the cause of their misery? +The eye sweeps over in this county more riches in one moment than are +contained in the whole county in which I was born, and in which the +petitioners live. Between Holbeach and Boston, even at a public-house, +neither bread nor meat was to be found; and while the landlord was +telling me that the people were become so poor that the butchers killed +no meat in the neighbourhood. I counted more than two thousand fat sheep +lying about in the pastures in that richest spot in the whole world. +Starvation in the midst of plenty; the land covered with food, and the +working people without victuals: everything taken away by the tax-eaters +of various descriptions: and yet you take no measures for redress; and +your miserable labourers seem to be doomed to expire with hunger, +without an effort to obtain relief. What! cannot you point out to them +the real cause of their sufferings; cannot you take a piece of paper and +write out a petition for them; cannot your labourers petition as well as +mine; are God’s blessings bestowed on you without any spirit to preserve +them; is the fatness of the land, is the earth teeming with food for the +body and raiment for the back, to be an apology for the want of that +courage for which your fathers were so famous; is the abundance which +God has put into your hands, to be the excuse for your resigning +yourselves to starvation? My God! is there no spirit left in England +except in the miserable sand-hills of Surrey?” These words were not +uttered without effect I can assure the reader. The assemblage was of +that stamp in which thought goes before expression; but the effect of +this example of my men in Surrey will, I am sure, be greater than +anything that has been done in the petitioning way for a long time past.</p> + +<p>We left Lincoln on the 23rd about noon, and got to Newark, in +Nottinghamshire, in the evening, where I gave a lecture at the theatre +to about three hundred persons. Newark is a very fine town, and the +Castle Inn, where we stopped, extraordinarily good and pleasantly +situated. Here I was met by a parcel of the printed petitions of the +labourers at Barn-Elm.</p> + +<p>I shall continue to <i>sow these</i>, as I proceed on my way. It should have +been stated at the head of the printed petition that it was presented to +the House of Lords by his Grace the Duke of Richmond, and by Mr. Pallmer +to the House of Commons.</p> + +<p>The country from Lincoln to Newark (sixteen miles) is by no means so +fine as that which we have been in for so many weeks. The land is clayey +in many parts. A pleasant country; a variety of hill and valley; but not +that richness which we had so long had under our eye: fields smaller; +fewer sheep,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540]</a></span> and those not so large, and so manifestly loaded with +flesh. The roads always good. Newark is a town very much like +Nottingham, having a very fine and spacious market-place; the buildings +everywhere good; but it is in the villages that you find the depth of +misery.</p> + +<p>Having appointed positively to be at Leicester in the evening of +Saturday, the 24th, we could not stop either at Grantham or at Melton +Mowbray, not even long enough to view their fine old magnificent +churches. In going from Newark to Grantham, we got again into +Lincolnshire, in which last county Grantham is. From Newark nearly to +Melton Mowbray, the country is about the same as between Lincoln and +Newark; by no means bad land, but not so rich as that of Lincolnshire, +in the middle and eastern parts; not approaching to the Holderness +country in point of riches; a large part arable land, well tilled; but +not such large homesteads, such numerous great stacks of wheat, and such +endless flocks of lazy sheep.</p> + +<p>Before we got to Melton Mowbray the beautiful pastures of this little +verdant county of Leicester began to appear. Meadows and green fields, +with here and there a corn field, all of smaller dimensions than those +of Lincolnshire, but all very beautiful; with gentle hills and woods +too; not beautiful woods, like those of Hampshire and of the wilds of +Surrey, Sussex and Kent; but very pretty, all the country around being +so rich. At Mowbray we began to get amongst the Leicestershire sheep, +those fat creatures which we see the butchers’ boys battering about so +unmercifully in the streets and the outskirts of the Wen. The land is +warmer here than in Lincolnshire; the grass more forward, and the wheat, +between Mowbray and Leicester, six inches high, and generally looking +exceedingly well. In Lincolnshire and Nottinghamshire I found the wheat +in general rather thin, and frequently sickly; nothing like so promising +as in Suffolk and Norfolk.</p> + +<p>We got to Leicester on the 24th at about half-after five o’clock; and +the time appointed for the lecture was six. Leicester is a very fine +town; spacious streets, fine inns, fine shops, and containing, they say, +thirty or forty thousand people. It is well stocked with jails, of which +a new one, in addition to the rest, has just been built, covering three +acres of ground! And, as if <i>proud</i> of it, the grand portal has little +turrets in the castle style, with <i>embrasures</i> in miniature on the caps +of the turrets. Nothing speaks the want of reflection in the people so +much as the self-gratulation which they appear to feel in these edifices +in their several towns. Instead of expressing shame at these indubitable +proofs of the horrible increase of misery and of crime, they really +boast of these “improvements,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541]</a></span> as they call them. Our forefathers built +abbeys and priories and churches, and they made such use of them that +jails were nearly unnecessary. We, their sons, have knocked down the +abbeys and priories; suffered half the parsonage-houses and churches to +pretty nearly tumble down, and make such uses of the remainder, that +jails and tread-mills and dungeons have now become the most striking +edifices in every county in the kingdom.</p> + +<p>Yesterday morning (Sunday the 25th) I walked out to the village of +Knighton, two miles on the Bosworth road, where I breakfasted, and then +walked back. This morning I walked out to Hailstone, nearly three miles +on the Lutterworth road, and got my breakfast there. You have nothing to +do but to walk through these villages, to see the cause of the increase +of the jails. Standing on the hill at Knighton, you see the three +ancient and lofty and beautiful spires rising up at Leicester; you see +the river winding down through a broad bed of the most beautiful meadows +that man ever set his eyes on; you see the bright verdure covering all +the land, even to the tops of the hills, with here and there a little +wood, as if made by God to give variety to the beauty of the scene, for +the river brings the coal in abundance, for fuel, and the earth gives +the brick and the tile in abundance. But go down into the villages; +invited by the spires, rising up amongst the trees in the dells, at +scarcely ever more than a mile or two apart; invited by these spires, go +down into these villages, view the large, and once the most beautiful, +churches; see the parson’s house, large, and in the midst of +pleasure-gardens; and then look at the miserable sheds in which the +labourers reside! Look at these hovels, made of mud and of straw; bits +of glass, or of old off-cast windows, without frames or hinges, +frequently, but merely stuck in the mud wall. Enter them, and look at +the bits of chairs or stools; the wretched boards tacked together to +serve for a table; the floor of pebble, broken brick, or of the bare +ground; look at the thing called a bed; and survey the rags on the backs +of the wretched inhabitants; and then wonder, if you can, that the jails +and dungeons and tread-mills increase, and that a standing army and +barracks are become the favourite establishments of England!</p> + +<p>At the village of Hailstone, I got into the purlieu, as they call it in +Hampshire, of a person well known in the Wen; namely, the Reverend +Beresford, rector of that fat affair, St. Andrew’s, Holborn! In walking +through the village, and surveying its deplorable dwellings, so much +worse than the cow-sheds of the cottagers on the skirts of the forests +in Hampshire, my attention was attracted by the surprising contrast +between them and the house of their religious teacher. I met a labouring +man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[Pg 542]</a></span> Country people <i>know everything</i>. If you have ever made a <i>faux +pas</i>, of any sort of description; if you have anything about you of +which you do not want all the world to know, never retire to a village, +keep in some great town; but the Wen, for your life, for there the +next-door neighbour will not know even your name; and the vicinage will +judge of you solely by the quantity of money that you have to spend. +This labourer seemed not to be in a very great hurry. He was digging in +his garden; and I, looking over a low hedge, <i>pitched him up</i> for a +gossip, commencing by asking him whether that was the parson’s house. +Having answered in the affirmative, and I, having asked the parson’s +name, he proceeded thus: “His name is Beresford; but though he lives +there, he has not this living now, he has got the living of St. +Andrew’s, Holborn; and they say it is worth a great many thousands a +year. He could not, they say, keep this living and have that too, +because they were so far apart. And so this living was given to Mr. +Brown, who is the rector of Hobey, about seven miles off.” “Well,” said +I, “but <i>how comes Beresford to live here now</i>, if the living be given +to another man?” “Why, Sir,” said he, “this Beresford married a daughter +of Brown; and so, you know (smiling and looking very archly), Brown +comes and takes the payment for the tithes, and pays a curate that lives +in that house there in the field; and Beresford lives at that fine house +still, just as he used to do.” I asked him what the living was worth, +and he answered twelve hundred pounds a year. It is a rectory, I find, +and of course the parson has great tithes as well as small.</p> + +<p>The people of this village know a great deal more about Beresford than +the people of St. Andrew’s, Holborn, know about him. In short, the +country people know all about the whole thing. They will be long before +they act; but they will make no noise as a signal for action. They will +be moved by nothing but actual want of food. This the Thing seems to be +aware of; and hence all the innumerable schemes for keeping them quiet: +hence the endless jails and all the terrors of hardened law: hence the +schemes for coaxing them, by letting them have bits of land: hence the +everlasting bills and discussions of committees about the state of the +poor, and the state of the poor-laws: all of which will fail; and at +last, unless reduction of taxation speedily take place, the schemers +will find what the consequences are of reducing millions to the verge of +starvation.</p> + +<p>The labourers here, who are in need of parochial relief, are formed into +what are called <i>roundsmen</i>; that is to say, they are sent round from +one farmer to another, each maintaining a certain number for a certain +length of time; and thus they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[Pg 543]</a></span> go round from one to the other. If the +farmers did not pay three shillings in taxes out of every six shillings +that they give in the shape of wages, they could afford to give the men +four and sixpence in wages, which would be better to the men than the +six. But as long as this burden of taxes shall continue, so long the +misery will last, and it will go on increasing with accelerated pace. +The march of circumstances is precisely what it was in France, just +previous to the French revolution. If the aristocracy were wise, they +would put a stop to that march. The middle class are fast sinking down +to the state of the lower class. <i>A community of feeling</i> between these +classes, and that feeling an angry one, is what the aristocracy has to +dread. As far as the higher clergy are concerned, this community of +feeling is already complete. A short time will extend the feeling to +every other branch; and then, the hideous consequences make their +appearance. Reform; a radical reform of the Parliament; this reform <i>in +time</i>; this reform, which would reconcile the middle class to the +aristocracy, and give renovation to that which has now become a mass of +decay and disgust; this reform, given with a good grace, and not taken +by force, is the only refuge for the aristocracy of this kingdom. Just +as it was in France. All the tricks of financiers have been tried in +vain; and by-and-by some trick more pompous and foolish than the rest; +Sir Henry Parnell’s trick, perhaps, or something equally foolish, would +blow the whole concern into the air.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Worcester, 18th May, 1830.</i></p> + +<p>In tracing myself from Leicester to this place, I begin at Lutterworth, +in Leicestershire, one of the prettiest country towns that I ever saw; +that is to say, prettiest <i>situated</i>. At this place they have, in the +church (they say), the identical <i>pulpit</i> from which Wickliffe preached! +This was not his birth-place; but he was, it seems, priest of this +parish.</p> + +<p>I set off from Lutterworth early on the 29th of April, stopped to +breakfast at Birmingham, got to Wolverhampton by two o’clock (a distance +altogether of about 50 miles), and lectured at six in the evening. I +repeated, or rather continued, the lecturing, on the 30th, and on the +3rd of May. On the 6th of May went to Dudley, and lectured there: on the +10th of May, at Birmingham; on the 12th and 13th, at Shrewsbury; and on +the 14th, came here.</p> + +<p>Thus have I come through countries of corn and meat and iron and coal; +and from the banks of the Humber to those of the Severn, I find all the +people, who do not share in the taxes, in a state of distress, greater +or less, <i>Mortgagers</i> all frightened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[Pg 544]</a></span> out of their-wits; <i>fathers</i> +trembling for the fate of their children; and <i>working people</i> in the +most miserable state, and, as they ought to be, in the <i>worst of +temper</i>. These will, I am afraid, be the <i>state-doctors</i> at last! The +farmers are cowed down: the poorer they get, the more cowardly they are. +Every one of them sees the cause of his suffering, and sees general ruin +at hand; but every one hopes that by some trick, some act of meanness, +some contrivance, <i>he shall escape</i>. So that there is no hope of any +change for the better but from the <i>working people</i>. The farmers will +sink to a very low state; and thus the Thing (barring <i>accidents</i>) may +go on, until neither farmer nor tradesman will see a joint of meat on +his table once in a quarter of a year. It appears likely to be precisely +as it was in France: it is now just what France was at the close of the +reign of Louis XV. It has been the fashion to ascribe the <i>French +Revolution</i> to the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot, and others. +These writings had <i>nothing at all</i> to do with the matter: no, <i>nothing +at all</i>. The <i>Revolution</i> was produced by <i>taxes</i>, which at last became +unbearable; by debts of the State; but, in fact, by the despair of the +people, produced by the weight of the taxes.</p> + +<p>It is curious to observe how ready the supporters of tyranny and +taxation are to ascribe rebellions and revolutions to disaffected +leaders; and particularly to writers; and, as these supporters of +tyranny and taxation have had the press at their command; have had +generally the absolute command of it, they have caused this belief to go +down from generation to generation. It will not do for them to ascribe +revolutions and rebellions to the true cause; because then the +rebellions and revolutions would be justified; and it is their object to +cause them to be condemned. Infinite delusion has prevailed in this +country, in consequence of the efforts of which I am now speaking. +Voltaire was just as much a cause of the French Revolution as I have +been the cause of imposing these sixty millions of taxes. The French +Revolution was produced by the grindings of taxation; and this I will +take an opportunity very soon of proving, to the conviction of every man +in the kingdom who chooses to read.</p> + +<p>In the iron country, of which Wolverhampton seems to be a sort of +central point, and where thousands, and perhaps two or three hundred +thousand people, are assembled together, the <i>truck</i> or <i>tommy</i> system +generally prevails; and this is a very remarkable feature in the state +of this country. I have made inquiries with regard to the origin, or +etymology, of this word <i>tommy</i>, and could find no one to furnish me +with the information. It is certainly, like so many other good things, +to be ascribed to <i>the army</i>; for, when I was a recruit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[Pg 545]</a></span> at Chatham +barracks, in the year 1783, we had brown bread served out to us twice in +the week. And, for what reason God knows, we used to call it <i>tommy</i>. +And the sergeants, when they called us out to get our bread, used to +tell us to come and get our <i>tommy</i>. Even the officers used to call it +tommy. Any one that could get white bread, called it bread; but the +brown stuff that we got in lieu of part of our pay was called <i>tommy</i>; +and so we used to call it when we got abroad. When the soldiers came to +have bread served out to them in the several towns in England, the name +of “tommy” went down by tradition; and, doubtless, it was taken up and +adapted to the truck system in Staffordshire and elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Now, there is nothing wrong, nothing <i>essentially</i> wrong, in this system +of barter. Barter is in practice in some of the happiest communities in +the world. In the new settled parts of the United States of America, to +which money has scarcely found its way, to which articles of wearing +apparel are brought from a great distance, where the great and almost +sole occupations are, the rearing of food, the building of houses, and +the making of clothes, barter is the rule and money payment the +exception. And this is attended with no injury and with very little +inconvenience. The bargains are made, and the accounts kept <i>in money</i>; +but the payments are made in produce or in goods, the price of these +being previously settled on. The store-keeper (which we call +shop-keeper) receives the produce in exchange for his goods, and +exchanges that produce for more goods; and thus the concerns of the +community go on, every one living in abundance, and the sound of misery +never heard.</p> + +<p>But when this tommy system; this system of barter; when this makes its +appearance where money has for ages been the medium of exchange, and of +payments for labour; when this system makes its appearance in such a +state of society, there is something wrong; things are out of joint; and +it becomes us to inquire into the real cause of its being resorted to; +and it does not become us to join in an outcry against the employers who +resort to it, until we be perfectly satisfied that those employers are +guilty of oppression.</p> + +<p>The manner of carrying on the tommy system is this: suppose there to be +a master who employs a hundred men. That hundred men, let us suppose, to +earn a pound a week each. This is not the case in the iron-works; but no +matter, we can illustrate our meaning by one sum as well as by another. +These men lay out weekly the whole of the hundred pounds in victuals, +drink, clothing, bedding, fuel, and house-rent. Now, the master finding +the profits of his trade fall off very much, and being at the same time +in want of money to pay the hundred pounds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[Pg 546]</a></span> weekly, and perceiving that +these hundred pounds are carried away at once, and given to shopkeepers +of various descriptions; to butchers, bakers, drapers, hatters, +shoemakers, and the rest; and knowing that, on an average, these +shopkeepers must all have a profit of thirty <i>per cent.</i>, or more, he +determines to <i>keep this thirty per cent. to himself</i>; and this is +thirty pounds a week gained as a shop-keeper, which amounts to 1,560<i>l.</i> +a year. He, therefore, sets up a tommy shop: a long place containing +every commodity that the workman can want, liquor and house-room +excepted. Here the workman takes out his pound’s worth; and his +house-rent he pays in truck, if he do not rent of his master; and if he +will have liquor, beer, or gin, or anything else, he must get it by +trucking with the goods that he has got at the tommy shop.</p> + +<p>Now, there is nothing essentially unjust in this. There is a little +inconvenience as far as the house-rent goes; but not much. The tommy is +easily turned into money; and if the single saving man does experience +some trouble in the sale of his goods, that is compensated for in the +more important case of the married man, whose wife and children +generally experience the benefit of this payment in kind. It is, to be +sure, a sorrowful reflection, that such a check upon the drinking +propensities of the fathers should be necessary; but <i>the necessity +exists</i>; and, however sorrowful the fact, the fact, I am assured, is, +that thousands upon thousands of mothers have to bless this system, +though it arises from a loss of trade and the poverty of the masters.</p> + +<p>I have often had to observe on the cruel effects of the suppression of +markets and fairs, and on the consequent power of extortion possessed by +the country shop-keepers. And what a thing it is to reflect on, that +these shopkeepers have the whole of the labouring men of England +constantly in their debt; have on an average a mortgage on their wages +to the amount of five or six weeks, and make them pay any price that +they choose to extort. So that, in fact, there is a tommy system in +every village, the difference being, that the shop-keeper is the tommy +man instead of the farmer.</p> + +<p>The only question is in this case of the manufacturing tommy work, +whether the master charges a higher price than the shop-keepers would +charge; and, while I have not heard that the masters do this, I think it +improbable that they should. They must desire to avoid the charge of +such extortion; and they have little temptation to it; because they buy +at best hand and in large quantities; because they are sure of their +customers, and know to a certainty the quantity that they want; and +because the distribution of the goods is a matter of such perfect +regularity, and attended with so little expense, compared with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[Pg 547]</a></span> the +expenses of the shopkeeper. Any farmer who has a parcel of married men +working for him, might supply them with meat for four-pence the pound, +when the butcher must charge them seven-pence, or lose by his trade; and +to me, it has always appeared astonishing, that farmers (where they +happen to have the power completely in their hands) do not compel their +married labourers to have a sufficiency of bread and meat for their +wives and children. What would be more easy than to reckon what would be +necessary for house-rent, fuel, and clothing; to pay that in money once +a month, or something of that sort, and to pay the rest in meat, flour, +and malt? I may never occupy a farm again; but if I were to do it, to +any extent, the East and West Indies, nor big brewer, nor distiller, +should ever have one farthing out of the produce of my farm, except he +got it through the throats of those who made the wearing apparel. If I +had a village at my command, not a tea-kettle should sing in that +village: there should be no extortioner under the name of country +shop-keeper, and no straight-backed, bloated fellow, with red eyes, +unshaven face, and slip-shod till noon, called a publican, and generally +worthy of the name of <i>sinner</i>. Well-covered backs and well-lined +bellies would be my delight; and as to talking about controlling and +compelling, what a controlling and compelling are there now! It is +everlasting control and compulsion. My bargain should be so much in +money, and so much in bread, meat, and malt.</p> + +<p>And what is the bargain, I want to know, <i>with yearly servants</i>? Why, so +much in money and the rest in bread, meat, beer, lodging and fuel. And +does any one affect to say that this is wrong? Does any one say that it +is wrong to exercise control and compulsion over these servants; such +control and compulsion is not only the master’s right, but they are +included in his bounden <i>duties</i>. It is his duty to make them rise +early, keep good hours, be industrious, and careful, be cleanly in their +persons and habits, be civil in their language. These are amongst the +uses of the means which God has put into his hands; and are these means +to be neglected towards married servants any more than towards single +ones?</p> + +<p>Even in the well-cultivated and thickly-settled parts of the United +States of America, it is the general custom, and a very good custom it +is, to pay the wages of labour <i>partly in money and partly in kind</i>; and +this practice is extended to carpenters, bricklayers, and other workmen +about buildings, and even to tailors, shoemakers, and weavers, who go (a +most excellent custom) to farm-houses to work. The bargain is, so much +money <i>and found</i>; that is to say, found in food and drink, and +sometimes in lodging. The money then used to be, for a common labourer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[Pg 548]</a></span> +in Long Island, at common work (not haying or harvesting), three York +shillings a day, and found; that is to say, three times seven-pence +halfpenny of our money; and three times seven-pence halfpenny a day, +which is eleven shillings and three-pence a week, and found. This was +the wages of the commonest labourer at the commonest work. And the wages +of a good labourer now, in Worcestershire, <i>is eight shillings a week, +and not found</i>. Accordingly, they are miserably poor and degraded.</p> + +<p>Therefore, there is in this mode of payment nothing <i>essentially</i> +degrading; but the tommy system of Staffordshire, and elsewhere, though +not unjust in itself, indirectly inflicts great injustice on the whole +race of shop-keepers, who are necessary for the distribution of +commodities in great towns, and whose property is taken away from them +by this species of monopoly, which the employers of great numbers of men +have been compelled to adopt for their own safety. It is not the fault +of the masters, who can have no pleasure in making profit in this way: +it is the fault of the taxes, which, by lowering the price of their +goods, have compelled them to resort to this means of diminishing their +expenses, or to quit their business altogether, which a great part of +them cannot do without being left without a penny; and if a law could be +passed and enforced (which it cannot) to put an end to the tommy system, +the consequence would be, that instead of a fourth part of the furnaces +being let out of blast in this neighbourhood, one-half would be let out +of blast, and additional thousands of poor creatures would be left +solely dependent on parochial relief.</p> + +<p>A view of the situation of things at Shrewsbury, will lead us in a +minute to the real cause of the tommy system. Shrewsbury is one of the +most interesting spots that man ever beheld. It is the capital of the +county of Salop, and Salop appears to have been the original name of the +town itself. It is curiously enclosed by the river Severn, which is here +large and fine, and which, in the form of a <i>horse-shoe</i>, completely +surrounds it, leaving, of the whole of the two miles round, only one +little place whereon to pass in and out on land. There are two bridges, +one on the east, and the other on the west; the former called the +English, and the other, the Welsh bridge. The environs of this town, +especially on the Welsh side, are the most beautiful that can be +conceived. The town lies in the midst of a fine agricultural country, of +which it is the great and almost only mart. Hither come the farmers to +sell their produce, and hence they take, in exchange, their groceries, +their clothing, and all the materials for their implements and the +domestic conveniences. It was fair-day when I arrived at Shrewsbury. +Everything was on the decline. Cheese, which four years ago sold at +sixty shillings the six-score pounds, would not bring forty. I took +particular pains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[Pg 549]</a></span> to ascertain the fact with regard to the cheese, which +is a great article here. I was assured that shop-keepers in general did +not now sell half the quantity of goods in a month that they did in that +space of time four or five years ago. The <i>ironmongers</i> were not selling +a fourth-part of what they used to sell five years ago.</p> + +<p>Now, it is impossible to believe that a somewhat similar falling off in +the sale of iron must not have taken place all over the kingdom; and +need we then wonder that the iron in Staffordshire has fallen, within +these five years, from thirteen pounds to five pounds a ton, or perhaps +a great deal more; and need we wonder that the <i>iron-masters</i>, who have +the same rent and taxes to pay that they had to pay before, have +resorted to the tommy system, in order to assist in saving themselves +from ruin! Here is the real cause of the tommy system; and if Mr. +Littleton really wishes to put an end to it, let him prevail upon the +Parliament to take off taxes to the amount of forty millions a year.</p> + +<p>Another article had experienced a still greater falling off at +Shrewsbury; I mean the article of corn-sacks, of which there has been a +falling off of <i>five-sixths</i>. The sacks are made by weavers in the +North; and need we wonder, then, at the low wages of those industrious +people, whom I used to see weaving sacks in the miserable cellars at +Preston!</p> + +<p>Here is the true cause of the tommy system, and of all the other evils +which disturb and afflict the country. It is a great country; an immense +mass of industry and resources of all sorts, <i>breaking up</i>; a prodigious +mass of enterprise and capital diminishing and dispersing. The enormous +taxes co-operating with the Corn-bill, which those taxes have +engendered, are driving skill and wealth out of the country in all +directions; are causing iron-masters to make France, and particularly +Belgium, blaze with furnaces, in the lieu of those which have been +extinguished here; and that have established furnaces and cotton-mills +in abundance. These same taxes and this same Corn-bill are sending the +long wool from Lincolnshire to France, there to be made into those +blankets which, for ages, were to be obtained nowhere but in England.</p> + +<p>This is the true state of the country, and here are the true causes of +that state; and all that the corrupt writers and speakers say about +over-population and poor-laws, and about all the rest of their shuffling +excuses, is a heap of nonsense and of lies.</p> + +<p>I cannot quit Shrewsbury without expressing the great satisfaction that +I derived from my visit to that place. It is the only town into which I +have gone, in all England, without knowing, beforehand, something of +some person in it. I could find out no person that took the Register; +and could discover but one person who took the <i>Advice to Young Men</i>. +The number<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[Pg 550]</a></span> of my auditors was expected to be so small, that I doubled +the price of admission, in order to pay the expense of the room. To my +great surprise, I had a room full of gentlemen, at the request of some +of whom I repeated the dose the next night; and if my audience were as +well pleased with me as I was with them, their pleasure must have been +great indeed. I saw not one single person in the place that I had ever +seen before; yet I never had more cordial shakes by the hand; in +proportion to their numbers, not more at Manchester, Oldham, Rochdale, +Halifax, Leeds, or Nottingham, or even Hull. I was particularly pleased +with the conduct of the <i>young</i> gentlemen at Shrewsbury, and especially +when I asked them, whether they were prepared to act upon the insolent +doctrine of Huskisson, and quietly submit to this state of things +“<i>during the present generation</i>”?</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<h3>TOUR IN THE WEST.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>3rd July, 1830.</i></p> + +<p>Just as I was closing my third Lecture (on Saturday night), at Bristol, +to a numerous and most respectable audience, the news of the above event +[the death of George IV.] arrived. I had advertised, and made all the +preparations, for lecturing at Bath on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday; +but, under the circumstances, I thought it would not be proper to +proceed thither, for that purpose, until after the burial of the King. +When that has taken place, I shall, as soon as may be, return to Bath, +taking Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire in my way; from Bath, through +Somerset, Devon, and into Cornwall; and back through Dorset, South +Wilts, Hants, Sussex, Kent, and then go into Essex, and, last of all, +into my native county of Surrey. I shall then have seen all England with +my own eyes, except Rutland, Westmoreland, Durham, Cumberland, and +Northumberland; and these, if I have life and health till next spring, I +shall see, in my way to Scotland. But never shall I see another place to +interest me, and so pleasing to me, as Bristol and its environs, taking +the whole together. A good and solid and wealthy city: a people of plain +and good manners; private virtue and public spirit united; no empty +noise, no insolence, no flattery; men very much like the Yorkers and +Lancastrians. And as to the seat of the city and its environs, it +surpasses all that I ever saw. A great commercial city in the midst of +corn-fields, meadows and woods, and the ships coming into the centre of +it, miles from anything like sea, up a narrow river, and passing between +two clefts of a rock probably a hundred feet high; so that from the top +of these clefts, you <i>look down</i> upon the main-top gallant masts of +lofty ships that are gliding along!</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[Pg 551]</a></span></p> +<h3>PROGRESS IN THE NORTH.</h3> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 23rd September, 1832.</i></p> + +<p>From Bolton, in Lancashire, I came, through Bury and Rochdale, to +Todmorden, on the evening of Tuesday, the 18th September. I have +formerly described the valley of Todmorden as the most curious and +romantic that was ever seen, and where the water and the coal seemed to +be engaged in a struggle for getting foremost in point of utility to +man. On the 19th I staid all day at Todmorden to write and to sleep. On +the 20th I set off for Leeds by the stage coach, through Halifax and +Bradford; and as to <i>agriculture</i>, certainly the poorest country that I +have ever set my eyes on, except that miserable <i>Nova Scotia</i>, where +there are the townships of Horton and of Wilmot, and whither the +sensible suckling statesman, Lord Howick, is wanting to send English +country girls, lest they should breed if they stay in England! This +country, from Todmorden to Leeds, is, however, covered over with +population, and the two towns of Halifax and Bradford are exceedingly +populous. There appears to be nothing produced by the earth but the +natural grass of the country, which, however, is not bad. The soil is a +sort of yellow-looking, stiffish stuff, lying about a foot thick, upon a +bed of rocky stone, lying upon solid rock beneath. The grass does not +seem to burn here; nor is it bad in quality; and all the grass appears +to be wanted to rear milk for this immense population, that absolutely +covers the whole face of the country. The only grain crops that I saw +were those of very miserable oats; some of which were cut and carried; +some standing in <i>shock</i>, the sheaves not being more than about a foot +and a half long; some still standing, and some yet <i>nearly green</i>. The +land is very high from Halifax to Bradford, and proportionably cold. +Here are some of those “Yorkshire Hills” that they see from Lancashire +and Cheshire.</p> + +<p>I got to Leeds about four o’clock, and went to bed at eight precisely. +At five in the morning of the 21st, I came off by the coach to +Newcastle, through Harrowgate, Ripon, Darlington, and Durham. As I never +was in this part of the country before, and can, therefore, never have +described it upon any former occasion, I shall say rather more about it +now than I otherwise should do. Having heard and read so much about the +“Northern Harvest,” about the “Durham ploughs,” and the “Northumberland +system of husbandry,” what was my surprise at finding, which I verily +believe to be the fact, that there is not as much corn grown in the +North-Riding of Yorkshire, which begins at Ripon, and in the whole +county of Durham, as is grown in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[Pg 552]</a></span> Isle of Wight alone. A very small +part, comparatively speaking, is <i>arable</i> land; and all the outward +appearances show that that which is arable was formerly pasture. Between +Durham and Newcastle there is a pretty general division of the land into +grass fields and corn fields; but, even here, the absence of +<i>homesteads</i>, the absence of barns, and of labourers’ cottages, clearly +show that agriculture is a sort of novelty; and that nearly all was +pasturage not many years ago, or at any rate only so much of the land +was cultivated as was necessary to furnish straw for the horses kept for +other purposes than those of agriculture, and oats for those horses, and +bread corn sufficient for the graziers and their people. All along the +road from Leeds to Durham I saw hardly any wheat at all, or any wheat +stubble, no barley, the chief crops being oats and beans mixed with +peas. These everywhere appeared to be what we should deem most miserable +crops. The oats, tied up in sheaves, or yet uncut, were scarcely ever +more than two feet and a half long, the beans were about the same +height, and in both cases the land so full of grass as to appear to be +<i>a pasture</i>, after the oats and the beans were cut.</p> + +<p>The land appears to be divided into very extensive farms. The corn, when +cut, you see put up into little stacks of a circular form, each +containing about <i>three</i> of our southern wagon-loads of sheaves, which +stacks are put up round about the stone house and the buildings of the +farmer. How they thrash them out I do not know, for I could see nothing +resembling a barn or a barn’s door. By the corn being put into such +small stacks, I should suppose the thrashing places to be very small, +and capable of holding only one stack at a time. I have many times seen +one single rick containing a greater quantity of sheaves than fifteen or +twenty of these stacks; and I have seen more than twenty stacks, each +containing a number of sheaves equal to, at least, fifteen of these +stacks; I have seen more than twenty of these large stacks, standing at +one and the same time, in one single homestead in Wiltshire. I should +not at all wonder if Tom Baring’s farmers at Micheldever had a greater +bulk of wheat-stacks standing now than any one would be able to find of +that grain, especially, in the whole of the North-Riding of Yorkshire, +and in one half of Durham.</p> + +<p>But this by no means implies that these are beggarly counties, even +exclusive of their waters, coals, and mines. They are not <i>agricultural</i> +counties; they are not counties for the producing of bread, but they are +counties made for the express purpose of producing meat; in which +respect they excel the southern counties, in a degree beyond all +comparison. I have just spoken of the <i>beds of grass</i> that are +everywhere seen after the oats and the beans have been out. Grass is the +natural produce of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[Pg 553]</a></span> land, which seems to have been made on purpose +to produce it; and we are not to call land <i>poor</i> because it will +produce nothing but meat. The size and shape of the fields, the sort of +fences, the absence of all homesteads and labourers’ cottages, the +thinness of the country churches, everything shows that this was always +a country purely of pasturage. It is curious, that, belonging to every +farm, there appears to be a large quantity of turnips. They are sowed in +drills, cultivated between, beautifully clean, very large in the bulb, +even now, and apparently having been sowed early in June, if not in May. +They are generally the white globe turnip, here and there a field of the +Swedish kind. These turnips are not fed off by sheep and followed by +crops of barley and clover, as in the South, but are raised, I suppose, +for the purpose of being carried in and used in the feeding of oxen, +which have come off the grass lands in October and November. These +turnip lands seem to take all the manure of the farm; and, as the reader +will perceive, they are merely an adjunct to the pasturage, serving, +during the winter, instead of hay, wherewith to feed the cattle of +various descriptions.</p> + +<p>This, then, is not a country of farmers, but a country of graziers; a +country of pasture, and not a country of the plough; and those who +formerly managed the land here were not husbandmen, but herdsmen. +Fortescue was, I dare say, a native of this country; for he describes +England as a country of shepherds and of herdsmen, not working so very +hard as the people of France did, having more leisure for contemplation, +and, therefore, more likely to form a just estimate of their rights and +duties; and he describes them as having, at all times, in their houses, +plenty of flesh to eat, and plenty of woollen to wear. St. Augustine, in +writing to the Pope an account of the character and conduct of his +converts in England, told him that he found the English an exceedingly +good and generous people; but they had one fault, their fondness for +flesh-meat was so great, and their resolution to have it so determined, +that he could not get them to abstain from it, even on the fast-days; +and that he was greatly afraid that they would return to their state of +horrible heathenism, rather than submit to the discipline of the church +in this respect. The Pope, who had more sense than the greater part of +bishops have ever had, wrote for answer: “Keep them within the pale of +the church, at any rate, even if they slaughter their oxen in the +churchyards: let them make shambles of the churches, rather than suffer +the devil to carry away their souls.” The taste of our fathers was by no +means for the potato; for the “nice <i>mealy</i> potato.” The Pope himself +would not have been able to induce them to carry “cold potatoes in their +bags” to the plough-field, as was, in evidence before the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[Pg 554]</a></span> special +commissions, proved to have been the common practice in Hampshire and +Wiltshire, and which had been before proved by evidence taken by +unfeeling committees of the boroughmonger House of Commons. Faith! these +old papas of ours would have burnt up not only the stacks, but the +ground itself, rather than have lived upon miserable roots, while those +who raised none of the food were eating up all the bread and the meat.</p> + +<p>Brougham and Birkbeck, and the rest of the Malthusian crew, are +constantly at work preaching <i>content to the hungry and naked</i>. To be +sure, they themselves, however, are not content to be hungry and naked. +Amongst other things, they tell the working-people that the +working-folks, especially in the North, used to have no bread, except +such as was made of oats and of barley. That was better than potatoes, +even the “nice mealy ones;” especially when carried cold to the field in +a bag. But these literary impostors, these deluders, as far as they are +able to delude; these vagabond authors, who thus write and publish for +the purpose of persuading the working-people to be quiet, while they +sack luxuries and riches out of the fruit of their toil; these literary +impostors take care not to tell the people, that these oatcakes and this +barley-bread were always associated with great lumps of flesh-meat; they +forget to tell them this, or rather these half-mad, perverse, and +perverting literary impostors suppress the facts, for reasons far too +manifest to need stating.</p> + +<p>The cattle here are the most beautiful by far that I ever saw. The sheep +are very handsome; but the horned cattle are the prettiest creatures +that my eyes ever beheld. My sons will recollect that when they were +little boys I took them to see the “Durham Ox,” of which they drew the +picture, I dare say, a hundred times. That was upon a large scale, to be +sure, the model of all these beautiful cattle: short horns, strait back, +a taper neck, very small in proportion where it joins on the small and +handsome head, deep dewlap, small-boned in the legs, hoop-ribbed, +square-hipped, tail slender. A great part of them are white, or +approaching very nearly to white: they all appear to be half fat, cows +and oxen and all; and the meat from them is said to be, and I believe it +is, as fine as that from Lincolnshire, Herefordshire, Romney Marsh, or +Pevensey Level; and I am ready, at any time, to swear, if need be, that +one pound of it fed upon this grass is worth more, to me at least, than +any ten pounds or twenty pounds fed upon oil-cake, or the stinking stuff +of distilleries; aye, or even upon turnips. This is all <i>grass-land</i>, +even from Staffordshire to this point. In its very nature it produces +grass that fattens. The little producing-land that there is even in +Lancashire and the West-Riding of Yorkshire, produces grass that would +fatten an ox, though the land be upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[Pg 555]</a></span> tops of hills. Everywhere, +where there is a sufficiency of grass, it will fatten an ox; and well do +we Southern people know that, except in mere vales and meadows, we have +no land that will do this; we know that we might put an ox up to his +eyes in our grass, and that it would only just keep him from growing +worse: we know that we are obliged to have turnips and meal and cabbages +and parsnips and potatoes, and then, with some of our hungry hay for +them to <i>pick their teeth with</i>, we make shift to put fat upon an ox.</p> + +<p>Yet, so much are we like the beasts which, in the fable, came before +Jupiter to ask him to endow them with faculties incompatible with their +divers frames and divers degrees of strength, that we, in this age of +“<i>waust improvements, Ma’um</i>,” are always hankering after laying fields +down in pasture, in the South, while these fellows in the North, as if +resolved to rival us in “improvement” and perverseness, must needs break +up their pasture-lands, and proclaim defiance to the will of Providence, +and, instead of rich pasture, present to the eye of the traveller +half-green starveling oats and peas, some of them in blossom in the last +week of September. The land itself, the earth, of its own accord, as if +resolved to vindicate the decrees of its Maker, sends up grass under +these miserable crops, as if to punish them for their intrusion; and, +when the crops are off, there comes a pasture, at any rate, in which the +grass, like that of Herefordshire and <ins class="correction" title="original: Lincolshire">Lincolnshire</ins>, is not (as it is in +our Southern countries) mixed with weeds; but, standing upon the ground +as thick as the earth can bear it, and fattening everything that eats of +it, it forbids the perverse occupier to tear it to pieces. Such is the +land of this country; all to the North of Cheshire, at any rate, leaving +out the East-Riding of Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, which are adapted for +corn in some spots and for cattle in others.</p> + +<p>These Yorkshire and Durham cows are to be seen in great numbers in and +about London, where they are used for the purpose of giving milk, of +which I suppose they give great quantities; but it is always an +observation that if you have these cows you must <i>keep them exceedingly +well</i>: and this is very true; for, upon the food which does very well +for the common cows of Hampshire and Surrey, they would dwindle away +directly and be good for nothing at all; and these sheep, which are as +beautiful as even imagination could make them, so round and so loaded +with flesh, would actually perish upon those downs and in those folds +where our innumerable flocks not only live but fatten so well, and with +such facility are made to produce us such quantities of fine mutton and +such bales of fine wool. There seems to be something in the soil and +climate, and particularly in the soil, to create everywhere a sort of +cattle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[Pg 556]</a></span> and of sheep fitted to it; Dorsetshire and Somersetshire have +sheep different from all others, and the nature of which it is to have +their lambs in the fall instead of having them in the spring. I remember +when I was amongst the villages on the Cotswold-hills, in +Gloucestershire, they showed me their sheep in several places, which are +a stout big-boned sheep. They told me that many attempts had been made +to cross them with the small-boned Leicester breed, but that it had +never succeeded, and that the race always got back to the Cotswold breed +immediately.</p> + +<p>Before closing these rural remarks, I cannot help calling to the mind of +the reader an observation of <span class="smcap">Lord John Scott Eldon</span>, who, at a time when +there was a great complaint about “agricultural distress” and about the +fearful increase of the poor-rates, said, “that there was no such +distress <i>in Northumberland</i>, and no such increase of the poor-rates:” +and so said my dignitary, Dr. Black, at the same time: and this, this +wise lord, and this not less wise dignitary of mine, ascribed to “the +bad practice of the farmers o’ the Sooth paying the labourers their +wages out of the poor-rates, which was not the practice in the North.” I +thought that they were telling what the children call <i>stories</i>; but I +now find that these observations of theirs arose purely from that want +of knowledge of the country which was, and is, common to them both. Why, +Lord John, there are no such persons here as we call farmers, and no +such persons as we call farm-labourers. From Cheshire to Newcastle, I +have never seen <i>one single labourer’s cottage by the side of the road</i>! +Oh, Lord! if the good people of this country could but see the endless +strings of vine-covered cottages and flower-gardens of the labourers of +Kent, Sussex, Surrey, and Hampshire; if they could go down the vale of +the Avon in Wiltshire, from Marlborough Forest to the city of Salisbury, +and there see <i>thirty</i> parish churches in a distance of thirty miles; if +they could go up from that city of Salisbury up the valley of Wylly to +Warminster, and there see one-and-thirty churches in the space of +twenty-seven miles; if they could go upon the top of the down, as I did, +not far (I think it was) from St. Mary Cotford, and there have under the +eye, in the valley below, <i>ten parish churches within the distance of +eight miles</i>, see the downs covered with innumerable flocks of sheep, +water meadows running down the middle of the valley, while the sides +rising from it were covered with corn, sometimes a hundred acres of +wheat in one single piece, while the stack-yards were still well stored +from the previous harvest; if John Scott Eldon’s countrymen could behold +those things, their quick-sightedness would soon discover why poor-rates +should have increased in the South and not in the North; and, though +their liberality would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[Pg 557]</a></span> suggest an apology for my dignitary, Dr. Black, +who was freighted to London in a smack, and has ever since been +impounded in the Strand, relieved now and then by an excursion to +Blackheath or Clapham Common; to find an apology for their countryman, +Lord John, would be putting their liberality to an uncommonly severe +test; for he, be it known to them, has chosen his country abode, not in +the Strand like my less-informed dignitary, Dr. Black, nor in his native +regions in the North; but has, in the beautiful county of Dorset, amidst +valleys and downs precisely like those of Wiltshire, got as near to the +sun as he could possibly get, and there, from the top of his mansion he +can see a score of churches, and from his lofty and ever-green downs, +and from his fat valleys beneath, he annually sends his flocks of +long-tailed ewes to Appleshaw fair, thence to be sold to all the +southern parts of the kingdom, having L. E. marked upon their beautiful +wool; and, like the two factions at Maidstone, all tarred with the same +brush. It is curious, too, notwithstanding the old maxim, that we all +try to get as nearly as possible in our old age to the spot whence we +first sprang. Lord John’s brother William (who has some title that I +have forgotten) has taken up his quarters on the healthy and I say +beautiful Cotswold of Gloucestershire, where, in going in a postchaise +from Stowe-in-the-Wold to Cirencester, I thought I should never get by +the wall of his park; and I exclaimed to Mr. Dean, who was along with +me, “Curse this Northumbrian ship-broker’s son, he has got one half of +the county;” and then all the way to Cirencester I was explaining to Mr. +Dean <i>how the man had got his money</i>, at which Dean, who is a Roman +Catholic, seemed to me to be ready to cross himself several times.</p> + +<p>No, there is no apology for Lord John’s observations on the difference +between the poor-rates of the South and the North. To go from London to +his country-houses he must go across Surrey and Hampshire, along one of +the vales of Wiltshire, and one of the vales of Dorsetshire, in which +latter county he has many a time seen in one single large field <i>a +hundred wind-rows</i> (stacks made in the field in order that the corn may +get quite dry before it be put into great stacks); he has many a time +seen, on one farm, two or three hundred of these, each of which was very +nearly as big as the stacks which you see in the stack-yards of the +North Riding of Yorkshire and of Durham, where a large farm seldom +produces more than ten or a dozen of these stacks, and where the +farmer’s property consists of his cattle and sheep, and where little, +very little, agricultural labour is wanted. Lord John ought to have +known the cause of the great difference, and not to have suffered such +nonsense to come out of a head covered with so very large a wig.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[Pg 558]</a></span>I looked with particular care on the sides of the road all the way +through Yorkshire and Durham. The distance, altogether, from Oldham in +Lancashire, to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, is about a hundred and fifty miles; +and, leaving out the <i>great</i> towns, I did not see so many churches as +are to be seen in any twenty miles of any of the valleys of Wiltshire. +All these things prove that these are by nature counties of pasturage, +and that they were formerly used solely for that purpose. It is curious +that there are none of those lands here which we call “meadows.” The +rivers run in <i>deep beds</i>, and have generally very steep sides; no +little rivulets and occasional overflowings that make the meadows in the +South, which are so very beautiful, but the grass in which is not of the +rich nature that the grass is in these counties in the North: it will +produce milk enough, but it will not produce beef. It is hard to say +which part of the country is the most valuable gift of God; but every +one must see how perverse and injurious it is to endeavour to produce in +the one that which nature has intended to confine to the other. After +all the unnatural efforts that have been made here to ape the farming of +Norfolk and Suffolk, it is only <i>playing at farming</i>, as stupid and +“loyal” parents used to set their children <i>to play at soldiers during +the last war</i>.</p> + +<p>If any of these sensible men of Newcastle were to see the farming in the +South Downs, and to see, as I saw in the month of July last, four teams +of large oxen, six in a team, all ploughing in one field in preparation +for wheat, and several pairs of horses, in the same field, dragging, +harrowing, and rolling, and had seen on the other side of the road from +five to six quarters of wheat standing upon the acre, and from nine to +ten quarters of oats standing alongside of it, each of the two fields +from fifty to a hundred statute acres; if any of these sensible men of +Newcastle could see these things, they would laugh at the childish work +that they see going on here under the name of farming; the very sight +would make them feel how imperious is the duty on the law-giver to +prevent distress from visiting the fields, and to take care that those +whose labour produced all the food and all the raiment, shall not be fed +upon potatoes and covered with rags; contemplating the important effects +of their labour, each man of them could say as I said when this mean and +savage faction had me at my trial, “I would see all these <ins class="correction" title="original: laboureres">labourers</ins> +hanged, and be hanged along with them, rather than see them live upon +potatoes.”</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 24th September, 1832.</i></p> + +<p>Since writing the above I have had an opportunity of receiving +information from a very intelligent gentleman of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[Pg 559]</a></span> county, who tells +me, that in Northumberland there are some lands which bear very heavy +crops of wheat; that the agriculture in this county is a great deal +better than it is farther south; that, however, it was a most lamentable +thing that the paper-money price of corn tempted so many men to break up +these fine pastures; that the turf thus destroyed cannot be restored +probably in a whole century; that the land does not now, with present +prices, yield a clear profit, anything like what it would have yielded +in the pasture; and that thus was destroyed the <i>goose with the golden +eggs</i>. Just so was it with regard to the <i>downs</i> in the south and the +west of England, where there are hundreds of thousands of acres, where +the turf was the finest in the world, broken up for the sake of the +paper-money prices, but now left to be <i>downs again</i>; and which will not +be <i>downs</i> for more than a century to come. Thus did this accursed +paper-money cause even the fruitful qualities of the earth to be +anticipated, and thus was the soil made <i>worth less</i> than it was before +the accursed invention appeared! This gentleman told me that this +breaking up of the pasture-land in this country had made the land, +though covered again with artificial grasses, unhealthy for sheep; and +he gave as an instance the facts, that three farmers purchased a hundred +and fifty sheep each, out of the same flock; that two of them, who put +their sheep upon these recently broken-up lands, lost their whole flocks +by the rot, with the exception of four in the one case and four in the +other, out of the three hundred: and that the third farmer, who put his +sheep upon the old pastures, and kept them there, lost not a single +sheep out of the hundred and fifty! These, ever accursed paper-money, +are amongst thy destructive effects!</p> + +<p>I shall now, laying aside for the present these rural affairs, turn to +the politics of this fine, opulent, solid, beautiful, and important +town; but as this would compel me to speak of particular transactions +and particular persons, and as this <i>Register</i> will come back to +Newcastle before I am likely to quit it, the reader will see reasons +quite sufficient for my refraining to go into matters of this sort, +until the next <i>Register</i>, which will in all probability be dated from +Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>While at Manchester, I received an invitation to lodge while here at the +house of a friend, of whom I shall have to speak more fully hereafter; +but every demonstration of respect and kindness met me at the door of +the coach in which I came from Leeds, on Friday, the 21st September. In +the early part of Saturday, the 22nd, a deputation waited upon me with +<i>an address</i>. Let the readers, in my native county and parish, remember +that I am now at the end of thirty years of calumnies poured out +incessantly upon me from the poisonous mouths and pens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[Pg 560]</a></span> of three hundred +mercenary villains, called newspaper editors and reporters; that I have +written and published more than a hundred volumes in those thirty years; +and that more than a thousand volumes (chiefly paid for out of the +taxes) have been written and published for the sole purpose of impeding +the progress of those truths that dropped from my pen; that my whole +life has been a life of sobriety and labour; that I have invariably +shown that I loved and honoured my country, and that I preferred its +greatness and happiness far beyond my own; that, at four distinct +periods, I might have rolled in wealth derived from the public money, +which I always refused on any account to touch; that, for having +thwarted this Government in its wastefulness of the public resources, +and particularly for my endeavours to produce that Reform of the +Parliament which the Government itself has at last been compelled to +resort to; that, for having acted this zealous and virtuous part, I have +been twice stripped of all my earnings by the acts of this Government; +once lodged in a felon’s jail for two years, and once driven into exile +for two years and a half; and that, after all, here I am on a spot +within a hundred miles of which I never was before in my life; and here +I am receiving the unsolicited applause of men amongst the most +intelligent in the whole kingdom, and the names of some of whom have +been pronounced accompanied with admiration, even to the southernmost +edge of the kingdom.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Hexham, 1st Oct., 1832.</i></p> + +<p>I left Morpeth this morning pretty early, to come to this town, which +lies on the banks of the Tyne, at thirty-four miles distant from +Morpeth, and at twenty distant from Newcastle. Morpeth is a great +market-town, for cattle especially. It is a solid old town; but it has +the disgrace of seeing an enormous new jail rising up in it. From +cathedrals and monasteries we are come to be proud of our jails, which +are built in the grandest style, and seemingly as if to imitate the +Gothic architecture.</p> + +<p>From Morpeth to within about four miles of Hexham, the land is but very +indifferent; the farms of an enormous extent. I saw in one place more +than a hundred corn-stacks in one yard, each having from six to seven +Surrey wagon-loads of sheaves in a stack; and not another house to be +seen within a mile or two of the farmhouse. There appeared to be no such +thing as barns, but merely a place to take in a stack at a time, and +thrash it out by a machine. The country seems to be almost wholly +destitute of people. Immense tracks of corn-land, but neither cottages +nor churches. There is here and there a spot of good land, just as in +the deep valleys that I crossed; but, generally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[Pg 561]</a></span> speaking, the country +is poor; and its bleakness is proved by the almost total absence of the +oak tree, of which we see scarcely one all the way from Morpeth to +Hexham. Very few trees of any sort, except in the bottom of the warm +valleys; what there are, are chiefly the <i>ash</i>, which is a very hardy +tree, and will live and thrive where the <i>oak</i> will not grow at all, +which is very curious, seeing that it comes out into leaf so late in the +spring, and sheds its foliage so early in the fall. The trees which +stand next in point of hardiness are the <i>sycamore</i>, the <i>beech</i>, and +the <i>birch</i>, which are all seen here; but none of them fine. The <i>ash</i> +is the most common tree, and even it flinches upon the hills, which it +never does in the South. It has generally become yellow in the leaf +already; and many of the trees are now bare of leaf before any frost has +made its appearance.</p> + +<p>The cattle all along here are of a coarse kind; the cows swag-backed and +badly shaped; Kiloe oxen, except in the dips of good land by the sides +of the bourns which I crossed. Nevertheless, even here, the fields of +turnips, of both sorts, are very fine. Great pains seem to be taken in +raising the crops of these turnips: they are all cultivated in rows, are +kept exceedingly clean, and they are carried in as winter food for all +the animals of a farm, the horses excepted.</p> + +<p>As I approached Hexham, which, as the reader knows, was formerly the +seat of a famous abbey, and the scene of a not less famous battle, and +was, indeed, at one time the <i>see</i> of a bishop, and which has now +churches of great antiquity and cathedral-like architecture; as I +approached this town, along a valley down which runs a small river that +soon after empties itself into the Tyne, the land became good, the ash +trees more lofty, and green as in June; the other trees proportionably +large and fine; and when I got down into the vale of Hexham itself, +there I found the <i>oak</i> tree, certain proof of a milder atmosphere; for +the <i>oak</i>, though amongst the hardest <i>woods</i>, is amongst the tenderest +of plants known as natives of our country. Here everything assumes a +different appearance. The Tyne, the southern and northern branches of +which meet a few miles above Hexham, runs close by this ancient and +celebrated town, all round which the ground rises gradually away towards +the hills, crowned here and there with the remains of those castles +which were formerly found necessary for the defence of this rich and +valuable valley, which, from tip of hill to tip of hill, varies, +perhaps, from four to seven miles wide, and which contains as fine +corn-fields as those of Wiltshire, and fields of turnips, of both kinds, +the largest, finest, and best cultivated, that my eyes ever beheld. As a +proof of the goodness of the land and the mildness of the climate here, +there is, in the grounds of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[Pg 562]</a></span> gentleman who had the kindness to +receive and to entertain me (and that in a manner which will prevent me +from ever forgetting either him or his most amiable wife); there is, +standing in his ground, <i>about an acre of my corn</i>, which will ripen +perfectly well; and in the same grounds, which, together with the +kitchen-garden and all the appurtenances belonging to a house, and the +house itself, are laid out, arranged, and contrived, in a manner so +judicious, and to me so original, as to render them objects of great +interest, though, in general, I set very little value on the things +which appertain merely to the enjoyments of the rich. In these same +grounds (to come back again to the climate), I perceived that the rather +tender evergreens not only lived but throve perfectly well, and (a +criterion infallible) the <i>biennial stocks</i> stand the winter without any +covering or any pains taken to shelter them; which, as every one knows, +is by no means always the case, even at Kensington and Fulham.</p> + +<p>At night I gave a lecture at an inn, at Hexham, in the midst of the +domains of that impudent and stupid man, Mr. Beaumont, who, not many +days before, in what he called a speech, I suppose, made at Newcastle, +thought proper, as was reported in the newspapers, to utter the +following words with regard to me, never having, in his life, received +the slightest provocation for so doing. “The liberty of the press had +nothing to fear from the Government. It was the duty of the +administration to be upon their guard to prevent extremes. There was a +crouching servility on the one hand, and an excitement to +disorganization and to licentiousness on the other, which ought to be +discountenanced. The company, he believed, as much disapproved of that +political traveller who was now going through the country—he meant +Cobbett—as they detested the servile effusions of the Tories.” +Beaumont, in addition to his native stupidity and imbecility, might have +been drunk when he said this, but the servile wretch who published it +was not drunk; and, at any rate, Beaumont was my mark, it not being my +custom to snap at the stick, but at the cowardly hand that wields it.</p> + +<p>Such a fellow cannot be an object of what is properly called <i>vengeance</i> +with any man who is worth a straw; but, I say, with <span class="smcap">Swift</span>, “If a <i>flea</i> +or a <i>bug</i> bite me, I will kill it if I can;” and, acting upon that +principle, I, being at Hexham, put my foot upon this contemptible +creeping thing, who is offering himself as a candidate for the southern +division of the county, being so eminently fitted to be a maker of the +laws!</p> + +<p>The newspapers have told the whole country that Mr. John Ridley, who is +a tradesman at Hexham, and occupies some land close by, has made a stand +against the demand for tithes; and that the tithe-owner recently broke +open, in the night, the gate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[Pg 563]</a></span> of his field, and carried away what he +deemed to be the tithe; that Mr. Ridley applied to the magistrates, who +could only refer him to a court of law to recover damages for the +trespass. When I arrived at Hexham, I found this to be the case. I +further found that Beaumont, that impudent, silly and slanderous +Beaumont, is the <i>lay-owner</i> of the tithes in and round about Hexham; he +being, in a right line, doubtless, the heir or successor of the abbot +and monks of the Abbey of Hexham; or, the heir of the donor, Egfrid, +<i>king of Northumberland</i>. I found that Beaumont had leased out his +tithes to <i>middle men</i>, as is the laudable custom with the pious bishops +and clergy of the law-church in Ireland.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>North Shields, 2nd Oct., 1832.</i></p> + +<p>These sides of the Tyne are very fine: corn-fields, woods, pastures, +villages; a church every four miles, or thereabouts; cows and sheep +beautiful; oak trees, though none very large; and, in short, a fertile +and beautiful country, wanting only the gardens and the vine-covered +cottages that so beautify the counties in the South and the West. All +the buildings are of stone. Here are coal-works and railways every now +and then. The working people seem to be very well off; their dwellings +solid and clean, and their furniture good; but the little gardens and +orchards are wanting. The farms are all large; and the people who work +on them either live in the farmhouse, or in buildings appertaining to +the farmhouse; and they are all well fed, and have no temptation to acts +like those which sprang up out of the ill-treatment of the labourers in +the South. Besides, the mere country people are so few in number, the +state of society is altogether so different, that a man who has lived +here all his life-time, can form no judgment at all with regard to the +situation, the wants, and the treatment of the working people in the +counties of the South.</p> + +<p>They have begun to make a railway from Carlisle to Newcastle; and I saw +them at work at it as I came along. There are great <i>lead mines</i> not far +from Hexham; and I saw a great number of little one-horse carts bringing +down the <i>pigs of lead</i> to the point where the Tyne becomes navigable to +Newcastle; and sometimes I saw loads of these <i>pigs</i> lying by the +road-side, as you see parcels of timber lying in Kent and Sussex, and +other timber counties. No fear of their being stolen: their weight is +their security, together with their value compared with that of the +labour of carrying. Hearing that Beaumont was, somehow or other, +connected with this lead-work, I had got it into my head that he was a +pig of lead himself, and half expected to meet with him amongst these +groups of his fellow-creatures; but,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[Pg 564]</a></span> upon inquiry, I found that some of +the lead-mines belonged to him; descending, probably, in that same right +line in <i>which the tithes descended to him</i>; and as the Bishop of Durham +is said to be the owner of great lead-mines, Beaumont and the bishop may +possibly be in the <i>same boat</i> with regard to the subterranean estate as +well as that upon the surface; and if this should be the case, it will, +I verily believe, require all the piety of the bishop, and all the +wisdom of Beaumont, to keep the boat above water for another five years.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>North Shields, 3rd Oct., 1832.</i></p> + +<p>I lectured at South Shields last evening, and here this evening. I came +over the river from South Shields about eleven o’clock last night, and +made a very firm bargain with myself never to do the like again. This +evening, after my lecture was over, some gentlemen presented an address +to me upon the stage, before the audience, accompanied with the valuable +and honourable present of the late Mr. Eneas Mackenzie’s <i>History of the +County of Northumberland</i>; a very interesting work, worthy of every +library in the kingdom.</p> + +<p>From Newcastle to Morpeth; from Morpeth to Hexham; and then all the way +down the Tyne; though everywhere such abundance of fine turnips, and in +some cases of mangel-wurzel, you see scarcely any <i>potatoes</i>: a certain +sign that the working people do not live like hogs. This root is raised +in Northumberland and Durham, to be used merely as garden stuff; and, +used in that way, it is very good; the contrary of which I never +thought, much less did I ever say it. It is the using of it as a +<i>substitute</i> for bread and for meat, that I have deprecated it; and when +the Irish poet, Dr. Drennen, called it “the lazy root, and the root of +misery,” he gave it its true character. Sir Charles Wolseley, who has +travelled a great deal in France, Germany and Italy, and who, though +Scott-Eldon scratched him out of the commission of the peace, and though +the sincere patriot Brougham will not put him in again, is a very great +and accurate observer as to these interesting matters, has assured me +that, in whatever proportion the cultivation of potatoes prevails in +those countries, in that same proportion the working-people are +wretched.</p> + +<p>From this degrading curse; from sitting round a dirty board, with +potatoes trundled out upon it, as the Irish do: from going to the field +with cold potatoes in their bags, as the working-people of Hampshire and +Wiltshire <i>did</i>, but which they have not done since the appearance of +certain <i>coruscations</i>, which, to spare the feelings of the “Lambs, the +Broughams, the Greys, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[Pg 565]</a></span> Russells,” and their dirty +bill-of-indictment-drawer Denman, I will not describe, much less will I +eulogize; from this degrading curse the county of Northumberland is yet +happily free!</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Sunderland, 4th Oct., 1832.</i></p> + +<p>This morning I left North Shields in a post-chaise, in order to come +hither through Newcastle and Gateshead, this affording me the only +opportunity that I was likely to have of seeing a plantation of Mr. +Annorer Donkin, close in the neighbourhood of Newcastle; which +plantation had been made according to the method prescribed in my book, +called the “Woodlands;” and to see which plantation I previously +communicated a request to Mr. Donkin. That gentleman received me in a +manner which will want no describing to those who have had the good luck +to visit Newcastle. The plantation is most advantageously circumstanced +to furnish proof of the excellence of my instructions as to planting. +The predecessor of Mr. Donkin also made plantations upon the same spot, +and consisting precisely of the same sort of trees. The two plantations +are separated from each other merely by a road going through them. Those +of the predecessor have been made <i>six-and-twenty years</i>; those of Mr. +Donkin <i>six years</i>; and, incredible as it may appear, the trees in the +latter are full as lofty as those in the former; and, besides the equal +loftiness, are vastly superior in point of shape, and, which is very +curious, retain all their freshness at this season of the year, while +the old plantations are brownish and many of the leaves falling off the +trees, though the sort of trees is precisely the same. As a sort of +reward for having thus contributed to this very rational source of his +pleasure, Mr. Donkin was good enough to give me an elegant copy of the +fables of the celebrated Bewick, who was once a native of Newcastle and +an honour to the town, and whose books I had had from the time that my +children began to look at books, until taken from me by that sort of +rapine which I had to experience at the time of my memorable flight +across the Atlantic, in order to secure the use of that long arm which I +caused to reach them from Long Island to London.</p> + +<p>In Mr. Donkin’s kitchen-garden (my eyes being never closed in such a +scene) I saw what I had never seen before in any kitchen-garden, and +which it may be very useful to some of my readers to have described to +them. <i>Wall-fruit</i> is, when destroyed in the spring, never destroyed by +<i>dry-cold</i>; but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, by wet-frosts, which +descend always perpendicularly, and which are generally fatal if they +come between the expansion of the blossom and the setting of the fruit; +that is to say, if they come after the bloom is quite open, and before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[Pg 566]</a></span> +it has disentangled itself from the fruit. The great thing, therefore, +in getting <i>wall-fruit</i>, is to keep off these frosts. The French make +use of boards, in the neighbourhood of Paris, projecting from the tops +of the walls and supported by poles; and some persons contrive to have +curtains to come over the whole tree at night and to be drawn up in the +morning. Mr. Donkin’s walls have a top of stone; and this top, or cap, +projects about eight inches beyond the face of the wall, which is quite +sufficient to guard against the wet-frosts which always fall +perpendicularly. This is a country of stone to be sure; but those who +can afford to build walls for the purpose of having wall-fruit, can +afford to cap them in this manner: to rear the wall, plant the trees, +and then to save the expense of the cap, is really like the old +proverbial absurdity, “of losing the ship for the sake of saving a +pennyworth of tar.”</p> + +<p>At Mr. Donkin’s I saw a portrait of Bewick, which is said to be a great +likeness, and which, though imagination goes a great way in such a case, +really bespeaks that simplicity, accompanied with that genius, which +distinguished the man. Mr. Wm. Armstrong was kind enough to make me a +present of a copy of the last performance of this so justly celebrated +man. It is entitled “<i>Waits for Death</i>,” exhibiting a poor old horse +just about to die, and preceded by an explanatory writing, which does as +much honour to the heart of Bewick as the whole of his designs put +together do to his genius. The sight of the picture, the reading of the +preface to it, and the fact that it was the last effort of the man; +altogether make it difficult to prevent tears from starting from the +eyes of any one not uncommonly steeled with insensibility.</p> + +<p>You see nothing here that is pretty; but everything seems to be abundant +in value; and one great thing is, the working people live well. Theirs +is not a life of ease to be sure, but it is not a life of hunger. The +pitmen have twenty-four shillings a week; they live rent-free, their +fuel costs them nothing, and their doctor cost them nothing. Their work +is terrible, to be sure; and, perhaps, they do not have what they ought +to have; but, at any rate, they live well, their houses are good and +their furniture good; and though they live not in a beautiful scene, +they are in the scene where they were born, and their lives seem to be +as good as that of the working part of mankind can reasonably expect. +Almost the whole of the country hereabouts is owned by that curious +thing called the <i>Dean and Chapter</i> of Durham. Almost the whole of South +Shields is theirs, granted upon leases with fines at stated periods. +This Dean and Chapter are the <i>lords of the Lords</i>. Londonderry, with +all his huffing and strutting, is but a tenant of the Dean and Chapter +of Durham,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[Pg 567]</a></span> who souse him so often with their <i>fines</i> that it is said +that he has had to pay them more than a hundred thousand pounds within +the last ten or twelve years. What will Londonderry bet that, he is not +the <i>tenant of the public</i> before this day five years? There would be no +difficulty in these cases, but on the contrary a very great convenience; +because all these tenants of the Dean and Chapter might then purchase +out-and-out, and make that property freehold, which they now hold by a +tenure so uncertain and so capricious.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p class="right"><i>Alnwick, 7th Oct., 1832.</i></p> + +<p>From Sunderland I came, early in the morning of the 5th of October, once +more (and I hope not for the last time) to Newcastle, there to lecture +on the paper-money, which I did, in the evening. But before I proceed +further, I must record something that I heard at Sunderland respecting +that babbling fellow Trevor! My readers will recollect the part which +this fellow acted with regard to the “liberal Whig prosecution;” they +will recollect that it was he who first mentioned the thing in the House +of Commons, and suggested to the wise Ministers the propriety of +prosecuting me; that Lord Althorp and Denman <i>hummed</i> and <i>ha’d</i> about +it; that the latter had <i>not read it</i>, and that the former would offer +no opinion upon it; that Trevor came on again, encouraged by the works +of the curate of Crowhurst, and by the bloody old <i>Times</i>, whose former +editor and now printer is actually a candidate for Berkshire, supported +by that unprincipled political prattler, Jephthah Marsh, whom I will +call to an account as soon as I get back to the South. My readers will +further recollect that the bloody old <i>Times</i> then put forth another +document as a confession of Goodman, made to Burrell, Tredcroft, and +Scawen Blunt, while the culprit was in Horsham jail with a halter +actually about his neck. My readers know the <i>result</i> of this affair; +but they have yet to learn some circumstances belonging to its progress, +which circumstances are not to be stated here. They recollect, however, +that from the very first I treated this <span class="smcap">Trevor</span> with the utmost disdain; +and that at the head of the articles which I wrote about him I put these +words, “TREVOR AND POTATOES;” meaning that he hated me because I was +resolved, fire or fire not, that working men should not live upon +potatoes in my country. Now, mark; now, chopsticks of the South, mark +the sagacity, the justice, the promptitude, and the excellent taste of +these lads of the North! At the last general election, which took place +after the “liberal Whig prosecution” had been begun, Trevor was a +candidate for the city of Durham, which is about fourteen miles from +this busy town of Sunderland. The freemen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[Pg 568]</a></span> of Durham are the voters in +that city, and some of these freemen reside at Sunderland. Therefore +this fellow (I wish to God you could <i>see</i> him!) went to Sunderland to +canvass these freemen residing there; and they pelted him out of the +town; and (oh appropriate missiles!) pelted him out with the “accursed +root,” hallooing and shouting after him—“<i>Trevor and potatoes!</i>” Ah! +stupid coxcomb! little did he imagine, when he was playing his game with +Althorp and Denman, what would be the ultimate effect of that game!</p> + +<p>From Newcastle to Morpeth (the country is what I before described it to +be). From Morpeth to this place (Alnwick), the country, generally +speaking, is very poor as to land, scarcely any trees at all; the farms +enormously extensive; only two churches, I think, in the whole of the +twenty miles; scarcely anything worthy the name of a tree, and not one +single dwelling having the appearance of a labourer’s house. Here +appears neither hedging nor ditching; no such thing as a sheep-fold or a +hurdle to be seen; the cattle and sheep very few in number; the farm +servants living in the farm-houses, and very few of them; the thrashing +done by machinery and horses; a country without people. This is a pretty +country to take a minister from to govern the South of England! A pretty +country to take a Lord Chancellor from to prattle about <i>Poor Laws</i> and +about <i>surplus population</i>! My Lord Grey has, in fact, spent his life +here, and Brougham has spent his life in the Inns of Court, or in the +botheration of speculative books. How should either of them know +anything about the eastern, southern, or western counties? I wish I had +my dignitary Dr. Black here; I would soon make him see that he has all +these number of years been talking about the bull’s horns instead of his +tail and his buttocks. Besides the indescribable pleasure of having seen +Newcastle, the Shieldses, Sunderland, Durham, and Hexham, I have now +discovered the true ground of all the errors of the Scotch <i>feelosofers</i> +with regard to population, and with regard to poor-laws. The two +countries are as different as any two things of the same nature can +possibly be; that which applies to the one does not at all apply to the +other. The agricultural counties are covered all over with parish +churches, and with people thinly distributed here and there.</p> + +<p>Only look at the two counties of Dorset and Durham. Dorset contains +1,005 square miles; Durham contains 1,061 square miles. Dorset has 271 +<i>parishes</i>; Durham has 75 parishes. The population of Dorset is +scattered over the whole of the county, there being no town of any +magnitude in it. The population of Durham, though larger than that of +Dorset, is almost all gathered together at the mouths of the Tyne, the +Wear, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[Pg 569]</a></span> Tees. Northumberland has 1,871 square miles; and Suffolk +has 1,512 square miles. Northumberland has <i>eighty-eight parishes</i>; and +Suffolk has <i>five hundred and ten parishes</i>. So that here is a county +one third part smaller than that of Northumberland with six times as +many villages in it! What comparison is there to be made between states +of society so essentially different? What rule is there, with regard to +population and poor-laws, which can apply to both cases? And how is my +Lord Howick, born and bred up in Northumberland, to know how to judge of +a population suitable to Suffolk? Suffolk is a county teeming with +production, as well as with people; and how brutal must that man be who +would attempt to reduce the agricultural population of Suffolk to that +of the number of Northumberland! The population of Northumberland, +larger than Suffolk as it is, does not equal it in total population by +nearly one-third, notwithstanding that one half of its whole population +have got together on the banks of the Tyne. And are we to get rid of our +people in the South, and supply the places of them by horses and +machines? Why not have the people in the fertile counties of the South, +where their very existence causes their food and their raiment to come? +Blind and thoughtless must that man be who imagines that all but <i>farms</i> +in the South are unproductive. I much question whether, taking a strip +three miles each way from the road, coming from Newcastle to Alnwick, an +equal quantity of what is called <i>waste ground</i>, together with the +cottages that skirt it, do not exceed such strip of ground in point of +produce. Yes, the cows, pigs, geese, poultry, gardens, bees and fuel +that arise from those <i>wastes</i>, far exceed, even in the capacity of +sustaining people, similar breadths of ground, distributed into these +large farms in the poorer parts of Northumberland. I have seen not less +than ten thousand geese in one tract of common, in about six miles, +going from Chobham towards Farnham in Surrey. I believe these geese +alone, raised entirely by care and by the common, to be worth more than +the clear profit that can be drawn from any similar breadth of land +between Morpeth and Alnwick. What folly is it to talk, then, of applying +to the counties of the South, principles and rules applicable to a +country like this!</p> + +<p>To-morrow morning I start for “Modern Athens”! My readers will, I dare +say, perceive how much my “<i>antalluct</i>” has been improved since I +crossed the Tyne. What it will get to when I shall have crossed the +Tweed, God only knows. I wish very much that I could stop a day at +Berwick, in order to find some <i>feelosofer</i> to ascertain, by some +chemical process, the exact degree of the improvement of the +“<i>antalluct</i>.” I am afraid, however, that I shall not be able to manage +this; for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[Pg 570]</a></span> I must get along; beginning to feel devilishly home-sick +since I have left Newcastle.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>They tell me that Lord Howick, who is just married by-the-by, made a +speech here the other day, during which he said, “that the Reform was +only the means to an end; and that the end was cheap government.” Good! +stand to that, my Lord, and, as you are now married, pray let the +country fellows and girls marry too: let us have <i>cheap government</i>, and +I warrant you that there will be room for us all, and plenty for us to +eat and drink. It is the drones, and not the bees, that are too +numerous; it is the vermin who live upon the taxes, and not those who +work to raise them, that we want to get rid of. We are keeping fifty +thousand tax-eaters to breed gentlemen and ladies for the industrious +and laborious to keep. These are the opinions which I promulgate; and +whatever your flatterers may say to the contrary, and whatever +<i>feelosofical</i> stuff Brougham and his rabble of writers may put forth, +these opinions of mine will finally prevail. I repeat my anxious wish (I +would call it a <i>hope</i> if I could) that your father’s resolution may be +equal to his sense, and that he will do that which is demanded by the +right which the people have to insist upon measures necessary to restore +the greatness and happiness of the country; and, if he show a +disposition to do this, I should deem myself the most criminal of all +mankind, if I were to make use of any influence that I possess to render +his undertaking more difficult than it naturally must be; but, if he +show not that disposition, it will be my bounden duty to endeavour to +drive him from the possession of power; for, be the consequences to +individuals what they may, the greatness, the freedom, and the happiness +of England must be restored.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">END.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Established</span> 1798</p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/illus574.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center">T. NELSON<br />AND SONS<br /><br />PRINTERS AND<br />PUBLISHERS</p> + +<div class="adverts"> +<p> </p><p> </p> +<h3>THE NELSON CLASSICS.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Uniform with this Volume and Same Price.</i></p> + +<p class="center">DESCRIPTIVE NOTES ON SOME OF THE VOLUMES.</p> + +<p><big><b>Shakespeare (6 vols.).</b></big></p> + +<p>This is a complete edition of the plays and poems of the greatest of the +world’s writers. It is printed from a carefully selected fount of type, +and is one of the prettiest, as well as one of the cheapest, editions of +Shakespeare ever published.</p> + + +<p><big><b>The Count of Monte-Cristo (2 vols.).</b></big> <span class="smcap">Alexandre Dumas.</span></p> + +<p>In “Monte-Cristo” Dumas left the path of historical fiction for the +romance of his own time. It is the most famous of the world’s treasure +stories, and tells how a young man, imprisoned on a false charge in a +French fortress, learns from a fellow-prisoner the secret of great +wealth hidden on a Mediterranean island; how he finds the treasure, and +spends his remaining years rewarding his friends and avenging himself on +his enemies.</p> + + +<p><big><b>Scenes of Clerical Life.</b></big> <span class="smcap">George Eliot.</span></p> + +<p>With the three stories in this volume—“Amos Barton,” “Mr. Gilfil’s Love +Story,” and “Janet’s Repentance”—George Eliot made her first entry into +fiction, and they still remain perhaps her most characteristic and +delightful work.</p> + + +<p><big><b>Wild Wales.</b></big> <span class="smcap">George Borrow.</span></p> + +<p>This book was the result of Borrow’s wanderings after the publication of +“Lavengro” and “The Romany Rye.” He tramped on foot throughout the +country, and the work is a classic of description, both of the scenery +and people.</p> + + +<p><big><b>Toilers of the Sea.</b></big> <span class="smcap">Victor Hugo.</span></p> + +<p><big><b>The Laughing Man.</b></big> <span class="smcap">Victor Hugo.</span></p> + +<p><big><b>Les Misérables (2 Vols.).</b></big> <span class="smcap">Victor Hugo.</span></p> + +<p><big><b>’Ninety-Three.</b></big> <span class="smcap">Victor Hugo.</span></p> + +<p>Victor Hugo took the romantic novel as invented by Sir Walter Scott and +gave it a new and philosophic interest. All his great romances have a +purpose. “Les Misérables” exposes the tyranny of human laws; “The +Toilers of the Sea” shows the conflict of man with nature; “The Laughing +Man” expounds the tyranny of the aristocratic ideal as exemplified in +England. But being a great artist as well as a great thinker, he never +turned his romances into pamphlets. Drama is always his aim, and no +novelist has attained more often the supreme dramatic moment.</p> + +<p class="note">The cheapest books in the world. Produced in the same excellent +form and convenient size as the other Nelson Libraries, they +contain works which are out of copyright. Full List on application.</p> + +<p class="center">THOMAS NELSON AND SONS,<br /> +London, Edinburgh, Dublin, New York, Paris, and Leipzig.</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<h3>THE NELSON CLASSICS.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Uniform with this Volume and Same Price.</i></p> + +<p class="center">CONDENSED LIST.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="table"> +<tr><td>1. A Tale of Two Cities.<br /> +2. Tom Brown’s Schooldays.<br /> +3. The Deerslayer.<br /> +4. Henry Esmond.<br /> +5. Hypatia.<br /> +6. The Mill on the Floss.<br /> +7. Uncle Tom’s Cabin.<br /> +8. The Last of the Mohicans.<br /> +9. Adam Bede.<br /> +10. The Old Curiosity Shop.<br /> +11. Oliver Twist.<br /> +12. Kenilworth.<br /> +13. Robinson Crusoe.<br /> +14. The Last Days of Pompeii.<br /> +15. Cloister and the Hearth.<br /> +16. Ivanhoe.<br /> +17. East Lynne.<br /> +18. Cranford.<br /> +19. John Halifax, Gentleman.<br /> +20. The Pathfinder.<br /> +21. Westward Ho!<br /> +22. The Three Musketeers.<br /> +23. The Channings.<br /> +24. The Pilgrim’s Progress.<br /> +25. Pride and Prejudice.<br /> +26. Quentin Durward.<br /> +27. Villette.<br /> +28. Hard Times.<br /> +29. Child’s History of England.<br /> +30. The Bible in Spain.<br /> +31. Gulliver’s Travels.<br /> +32. Sense and Sensibility.<br /> +33. Kate Coventry.<br /> +34. Silas Marner.<br /> +35. Notre Dame.<br /> +36. Old St. Paul’s.<br /> +37. Waverley.<br /> +38. ’Ninety-Three.<br /> +39. Eothen.<br /> +40. Toilers of the Sea.<br /> +41. Children of the New Forest.<br /> +42. The Laughing Man.<br /> +43. A Book of Golden Deeds.<br /> +44. Great Expectations.<br /> +45. Guy Mannering.<br /> +46. Modern Painters (Selections)<br /> +47. Les Misérables—I.<br /> +48. Les Misérables—II.<br /> +49. Monastery.<br /> +50. Romola.<br /> +51. The Vicar of Wakefield.<br /> +52. Emma.<br /> +53. Lavengro.<br /> +54. Emerson’s Essays.<br /> +55. The Bride of Lammermoor.<br /> +56. The Abbot.<br /> +57. Tom Cringle’s Log.<br /> +58. Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare.<br /> +59. The Scarlet Letter.<br /> +60. Old Mortality.<br /> +61. The Romany Rye.<br /> +62. Hans Andersen.<br /> +63. The Black Tulip.<br /> +64. Little Women.<br /> +65. The Talisman.<br /> +66. Scottish Life and Character.<br /> +67. The Woman in White.<br /> +68. Tales of Mystery.<br /> +69. Fair Maid of Perth.<br /> +70. Parables from Nature.<br /> +71. Peg Woffington.<br /> +72. Windsor Castle.<br /> +73. Edmund Burke.<br /> +74. Ingoldsby Legends.<br /> +75. Pickwick Papers—I.<br /> +76. Pickwick Papers—II.<br /> +77. Verdant Green.<br /> +78. The Heir of Redclyffe.<br /> +79. Wild Wales.<br /> +80. Two Years Before the Mast.<br /> +81. Jane Eyre.<br /> +82. David Copperfield—I.<br /> +83. David Copperfield—II.<br /> +84. Hereward the Wake.<br /> +85. Wide Wide World.<br /> +86. Michael Strogoff.<br /> +87. Shirley.<br /> +88. Jack Sheppard.<br /> +89. Masterman Ready.<br /> +90. Martin Chuzzlewit—I.<br /> +91. Martin Chuzzlewit—II.<br /> +92. Twenty Years After.<br /> +93. Lorna Doone—I.<br /> +94. Lorna Doone—II.<br /> +95. Marguerite de Valois.<br /> +96. The Old Lieutenant and his Son.<br /> +97. Sylvia’s Lovers.<br /> +98. Rob Roy.<br /> +99. Shakespeare—I.<br /> +100. Shakespeare—II.<br /> +101. Shakespeare—III.<br /> +102. Shakespeare—IV.<br /> +103. Shakespeare—V.<br /> +104. Shakespeare—VI.<br /> +105. Sybil.<br /> +106. Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World.<br /> +107. Nicholas Nickleby—I.<br /> +108. Nicholas Nickleby—II.<br /> +109. Christmas Books.<br /> +110. Book of Snobs, and Barry Lyndon.<br /> +111. The Golden Treasury.<br /> +112. The Fortunes of Nigel.<br /> +113. Scenes of Clerical Life.<br /> +114. Tales of the Gods and Heroes.<br /> +115. Mrs. Halliburton’s Troubles.<br /> +116. House of the Seven Gables.<br /> +117. Barchester Towers.<br /> +118. Tales of the West.<br /> +119. Lays of Ancient Rome, and other Poems.<br /> +120. Coral Island.<br /> +121. First Love and Last Love.<br /> +122. Count of Monte-Cristo—I.<br /> +123. Count of Monte-Cristo—II.<br /> +124. Dombey and Son—I.<br /> +125. Dombey and Son—II.<br /> +126. Vanity Fair—I.<br /> +127. Vanity Fair—II.<br /> +128. The Antiquary.<br /> +129. Martin Rattler.<br /> +130. The Smuggler.<br /> +131. Ravenshoe.<br /> +132. Ecce Homo.<br /> +133. Framley Parsonage.<br /> +134. Coningsby.<br /> +135. Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family.<br /> +136. Rural Rides.<br /> +137. Anna Karenina—I.<br /> +138. Anna Karenina—II.<br /> +139. Voyage of the “Beagle.”<br /> +140. The Daisy Chain.<br /> +141. Eugénie Grandet.<br /> +142. Elsie Venner.<br /> +143. The Phantom Regiment.<br /> +144. Salem Chapel.<br /> +145. Longfellow’s Poems—I.<br /> +146. Longfellow’s Poems—II.<br /> +147. Tom Brown at Oxford.<br /> +148. The Essays of Elia.</td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center">THOMAS NELSON AND SONS.</p></div> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><b>Footnotes:</b></p> + +<p><a name="f1" id="f1" href="#f1.1">[1]</a> I will not swear to the very <i>words</i>; but this is the meaning of +Voltaire: “Representatives of the people, the Lords and the King: +<i>Magnificent</i> spectacle! <i>Sacred</i> source of the Laws!”</p> + +<p><a name="f2" id="f2" href="#f2.1">[2]</a> “Representatives of the people, of whom the people know nothing, +must be miraculously well calculated to have the care of their money! +Oh! People too happy! overwhelmed with blessings! The <i>envy</i> of <i>your +neighbours</i>, and <i>admired</i> by the <i>whole world</i>!”</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></p> + +<p>Punctuation has been corrected without note.</p> + +<p>The unmatched opening quotation mark on page 404 is presented as in the original text.</p> + +<p>Other than the corrections noted by hover information, inconsistencies in +spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rural Rides, by William Cobbett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RURAL RIDES *** + +***** This file should be named 34238-h.htm or 34238-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/3/34238/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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