sent me, is now," he says, "in my sight upon the shelf, and
in excellent preservation, considering that when a schoolboy
I perused it so often that I had no small portion of it by
heart. Forty years have tarnished the gilding upon its back,
but they have not effaced my remembrance of the joy with which
I received it, and the delight which I found in its repeated
perusal.... Hoole, in his notes, frequently referred to the
_Orlando Furioso_. I saw some volumes thus lettered, on Bull's
counter, and my heart leaped for joy. They proved to be the
original; but the shopman, Mr Cruett, (a most obliging man he
was,) immediately put the translation into my hands; and I do
not think any accession of fortune could now give me so much
delight as I then derived from that vile version of Hoole's.
There, in the notes, I first saw the name of Spenser, and some
stanzas of the _Fairy Queen_. Accordingly, when I returned
the last volume, I asked if that work was in the library. My
friend Cruett replied that they had it, but it was written in
old English, and I should not be able to understand it. This
did not appear to me so much a necessary consequence as he
supposed, and I therefore requested he would let me look at it.
It was the quarto edition of '17, in three volumes, with large
prints folded in the middle, equally worthless (like all the
prints of that age) in design and execution. There was nothing
in the language to impede, for the ear set me right where the
uncouth spelling (orthography it cannot be called) might have
puzzled the eye; and the few words which are really obsolete
were sufficiently explained by the context. No young lady of
the present generation falls to a new novel of Sir Walter
Scott's with keener relish than I did that morning to the
_Fairy Queen_."--(Vol. i. p. 83.)
He had commenced poet, as we have said, at an earlier age than he
can call to mind, so that his first rhymes are utterly lost in the
oblivion of childhood. He can only remember that this discovery that
he could rhyme gave him great pleasure, and that his mother seemed
equally gratified, and still more proud of the achievement. When in
the habit of reading and witnessing so many plays, he of course wrote
dramas. His first subject was "The Continence of Scipio!" Now that
Tasso and Ariosto were his great delight, he commenced the epic or the
metrical romance. He would graft a story upon the _Orlando Furioso_.
_Arcadia_ should be the scene and give the title to the poem. There he
would bring the Moors, and there should his hero Astolfo, riding on a
Hippogriff, &c. &c. This must have been, he says, when he was between
nine and ten, for some verses of it were written on the covers of his
_Phædrus_. They were in the heroic couplet.
It is curious to notice that, although writing heroic couplets on the
covers of his _Phædrus_, his first task in prose composition was
accomplished with extreme difficulty. The master, Mr Williams, would
sometimes tell the boys to write a letter upon any subject that they
pleased. Nothing had ever perplexed our young poet so much as this
task. He actually cried for perplexity and vexation. At last he set
to work. A _Salisbury Guide_ had fallen in his way; he wrote a long
description of Stonehenge, and his master was not less surprised than
delighted with it. He himself was unconscious of having done anything
extraordinary, till the envy of his schoolfellows made him aware that
he had surpassed them all. On coming to school next morning, some
half-dozen of them beset him, and demanded "whether he, with all his
learning, could tell what the letters _i. e._ stood for? You have
written a description of Stonehenge, now tell us what _i. e._ stands
for." Southey dashed at an answer, "John the Evangelist, I suppose."
They shouted with triumph.
In after years, when Southey had written _Don Roderick_, there were
many pedants disposed to ask him what _i. e._ stands for.
But now his maternal uncle, the Reverend Herbert Hill, always his
kind friend and benefactor, determines to send the intelligent lad to
Westminster school, and then to the University of Oxford. By way of
preparation, he is removed from Mr Williams' academy, and placed under
the care and tuition of a clergyman. We have not traced him through the
various schools he attended--it would be waste of time; we have seen
what was the real process of his education. Here, also, according to
his own account, the progress of his mind was very little connected
with the formal tuition he received.
"I do not remember," he says, "in any part of my life, to
have been so conscious of intellectual improvement as I was
during the year and a half before I was placed at Westminster;
an improvement derived not from books or instruction, _but
from constantly exercising myself in English verse_; and from
the development of mind which that exercise produced, I can
distinctly trace my progress by help of a list, made thirty
years ago, of all my compositions in verse, which were then in
existence, or which I had at that time destroyed."--(Vol. i. p.
117).
Before entering Westminster, our autobiographer takes a retrospective
glance at his home in Bristol, and gives a most graphic description of
his aunt, Miss Tyler. That lady has earned an immortality which she
little dreamt of, and would have hardly coveted. Already every English
reader knows Miss Tyler. She will live for ever as a type of that class
of ladies, whether spinsters or married, who let their love of order
and cleanliness grow into a disease--ladies who keep the best rooms in
their house in such a superstitious neatness, that they are no longer
habitable. The disorder usually drives people from their pleasant and
spacious drawing-room into close back-parlours, deserving of a visit
from the Sanitary Commission. In the case of Miss Tyler, it drove her
from the parlour to the kitchen, from the best kitchen into what should
have been the scullery. We hope those ladies in whom the disease has
not yet attained such a height may take warning by the terrible example
of Miss Tyler. For the rest, she was a woman of violent temper, and of
a proud imperious disposition.
Of course, in a house kept with so much neatness as Miss Tyler's, _no
other boy_ was likely to be admitted; no other specimen of that race
whose shoes no quantity of mats or matting could have rendered clean,
or afforded sufficient protection against; and who might have even
placed his corduroys on the lady's own chair--an offence which, we are
assured, would have excited the highest indignation. Young Southey,
therefore, had few playmates. _Shad_, a handy lad, kept for all manner
of garden or out-of-door work, was his chief companion. He might well
say that "few boys were ever less qualified for the discipline of a
public school." He had, however, an elastic and buoyant spirit, which,
notwithstanding this unsuitable preparation for such a scene, enabled
him to meet the trials and the turmoil of Westminster school. It was
on the 1st April 1788 that he entered there. A rough apprenticeship
to life it seems to have been. One boy holds our epic poet out of
window by the leg, to the manifest peril of his skull. Another appoints
him, "by the law of fist," to write all his Latin exercises, with the
special injunction that they shall be always "bad enough" to pass
muster as the composition of the bully and the dunce. We suppose all
this has been reformed since Southey's time, and that the following
picture is curious only as a record of the past. In this "interior" the
Westminster scholars look very much like a buccaneer's crew:--
"Our boarding-house was under the tyranny of W. F----. He
was, in Westminster language, a great beast; that is, in
plain truth, a great brute--as great a one as ever went upon
two legs. But there are two sorts of human brutes; those who
partake of wolf nature, or of pig nature; and F---- was of the
better breed, if it be better to be wolfish than swinish. He
would have made a good prize fighter, a good buccaneer, or,
in the days of Coeur de Lion, or of my Cid, a good knight,
to have cut down the misbelievers with a strong arm and a
hearty good will. Everybody feared and hated him; and yet it
was universally felt that he saved the house from the tyranny
of a greater beast than himself. This was a fellow by name
B----, who was mean and malicious, which F---- was not: I do
not know what became of him; his name has not appeared in the
_Tyburn Calendar_, which was the only place to look for it; and
if he has been hanged, it must have been under an _alias_--an
observation which is frequently made, when he is spoken of by
his schoolfellows. He and F---- were of an age and standing,
the giants of the house; but F---- was the braver, and did us
the good office of keeping him in order. They hated each other
cordially, and the evening before we were rid of 'Butcher
B----,' F---- gave the whole house the great satisfaction of
giving him a good thrashing."--(Vol. i. p. 150.)
Then follow some other and more amusing accounts of his schoolfellows,
and of their after position and fortunes in the world, and the fragment
concludes. It does not even relate the history of his expulsion from
Westminster--apparently a very severe punishment for the offence he
had committed. The boys had set up a paper called _The Flagellant_.
In one of the numbers, which Southey had written, the subject of
corporal punishment was handled in a manner which by no means pleased
the headmaster; and for this offence he was, as is here expressed,
privately expelled. The first appearance in print of our voluminous
author was not fortunate.
With this event, therefore, Mr Cuthbert Southey commences the slight
thread of biography on which these letters are strung. How far this
expulsion from Westminster, by exasperating the mind of our young
author, tended to foster a certain democratic and rebellious mode of
thinking, we have no accurate means of judging; we can only guess that
it would have some such tendency. He was now to proceed to Oxford; but
the expelled of Westminster was rejected at Christ Church, in which
college his uncle had particularly wished him to enter. He found refuge
at Balliol, where he was admitted Nov. 3, 1792.
We have lost our guide, and the only guide that could have traced for
us the course of his reading and the progress of his mind. Southey
now somewhat abruptly appears before us as the ardent republican, and
something verging on the communist. We left him with Tasso and the
_Fairy Queen_, inditing or planning innumerable epics. We find him
writing _Wat Tyler_, that poem whose singular history we shall have, by
and by, to allude to. From intimations scattered through these letters,
we learn that he had dieted rather freely upon Rousseau; that he had
"corrected" this diet by a course of Godwin; and that with Godwin he
had united Epictetus and Stoic morality. As aunt Tyler had purchased a
translation of Rousseau's _Emilie_ in order to educate her pupil, it
is probable that he had heard of the philosopher of Geneva at a very
early period. Perhaps it was the _Contrat Social_ that first received
him when he stepped from poetry to philosophy. At all events, the
captivating ideas of perfect liberty and equality, which are there set
forth, had taken full possession of his youthful mind.
At college his industry was still of the same vagrant self-directed
description that it had hitherto been. He read much, but he did not
distinguish himself in the special studies of the place, nor desired to
do so. Now his uncle, the Rev. H. Hill, had designed that his nephew
should enter the Church, where only he had the means of assisting his
future advancement in life. When Southey first came to Oxford, he
contemplated this as his future destination, though probably with no
very good will. But it is quite evident that his course of reading and
thinking has not been fitting him for the Church; and we are not at all
surprised to find that this disinclination to take holy orders amounts
at length to a decided and unconquerable repugnance. We might be rather
surprised to find, as we do, that, throughout this era of the reign of
liberty and equality, he retains his fervent and deep-rooted sentiments
of piety. What exactly his theological creed had become, we have no
distinct evidence before us: probably it was unsettled enough. But it
is quite remarkable how strong a faith he has, throughout the whole of
his career, in the great fundamental doctrine of religion--a future
state of existence. It is no mere doctrinal belief, no dim and shadowy
foreboding; it was such a belief as a European has in the existence of
the continent of America. No emigrant can have a stronger conviction
that he shall reach the new country he has embarked for, or that he
shall meet such of his friends as have preceded him on the same voyage,
than Southey has in that future world to which we are sailing over the
ocean of time.
Mr Cuthbert Southey very wisely refrains from speaking decidedly upon
his father's religious opinions. He leaves the impression on our mind
that, according to his view, the Unitarian heresy was the utmost limit
of his divergence from the orthodox standard. We doubt if Southey, at
this time, had formed any doctrinal system full and precise enough to
be classed under the name of Unitarianism. However that may be, it
was impossible for him, with his relaxed creed, and his high sense of
moral rectitude, to think of entering the Church. Such unhappily being
the state of his opinions, he very properly abandoned all idea of
taking orders. At a subsequent period of his life, we may remark that
his repugnance to subscribe the articles of the Church of England may
very fairly be attributed far more to the moral feelings than to the
religious opinions of the man, far more to an extreme scrupulosity and
the reluctance to fetter himself, than to any absolute heresy. This
we may have an opportunity of showing as we advance farther in the
correspondence.
But the Church being resigned, it was necessary to look out for some
other career. He thinks of physic, and studies anatomy for a short
time, but the dissecting-room disgusts him. He thinks, as doubtless
many others have thought, and are thinking still, that some official
appointment which would occupy his mornings with business, and leave
his evenings for philosophy and poetry, would be a very suitable
position, and he writes to his friend Bedford for his advice and
interest in the matter. His friend bids him reflect whether he, with
his burning republicanism, was exactly the person most likely to obtain
the much sought for patronage of Government. At last he thinks of
emigration. Rousseau and Coleridge convert the scheme of emigration
into the project of _Pantisocracy_. Here is the provision for life,
and liberty, and equality. The scheme is perfect. It will be house and
home--it will be philosophy put in action.
The letters of Southey are not at this time the interesting
compositions which some may have expected to find them; neither do
they give us much insight into the details of this great scheme
(though tried on a small scale) of a community of goods. The earlier
letters--say those which, immediately succeeding the autobiography,
occupy the remaining part of the first volume of the work--are indeed
anything but pleasing or agreeable. The editor himself speaks of them
in the following manner: "His letters, which at this time seem to have
been exercises in composition, give evidence of his industry, and
at the same time indicate a mind imbued with heathen philosophy and
Grecian republicanism. They are written often in a style of inflated
declamation, which, as we shall see, before many years had passed,
subsided into a more natural and tranquil tone under the influence of
his matured taste." They are the letters of a clever confident youth,
and quite as disagreeable as such effusions usually are; full of
flippant absurd judgments on men and things, varied with that affected
self-disparagement which never fails to form a conspicuous part of
such compositions. Their writers are profound philosophers at one
moment, and rail at philosophy the next; full of their future fame,
yet despising the only occupation that they love. "I am ready," says
Southey, "to quarrel with my friends for not making me a carpenter, and
with myself for devoting myself to pursuits certainly unimportant, and
of no real utility either to myself or to others." One gets nothing
from letters of this description. Our account of Pantisocracy we must
take from the words of the editor himself:--
"We have seen," he says, "that in one or two of his early
letters my father speaks of emigration to America as having
entered his mind; and the failure of the plans I have just
mentioned now caused him to turn his thoughts more decidedly
in that direction; and the result was a scheme of emigration,
to which those who conceived it gave the euphonious name of
'Pantisocracy.' This idea, it appears, was first originated by
Mr Coleridge and one or two of his friends; and he mentioned it
to my father, on becoming acquainted with him at Oxford. Their
plan was to collect as many brother adventurers as they could,
and to establish a community in the New World upon the most
thoroughly social basis. Land was to be purchased with their
common contributions, and to be cultivated by their common
labour. Each was to have his portion of work assigned him; and
they calculated that a large part of their time would still
remain for social converse and literary pursuits. The females
of the party--for all were to be married men--were to cook, and
perform all domestic affairs; and having even gone so far as to
plan the architecture of their cottages, and the form of their
settlement, they had pictured as pleasant a Utopia as ever
entered an ardent mind."--(P. 211.)
We nowhere gather what provision was made for any other branch of
industry than the agricultural. Was each man to be his own tailor,
shoemaker, carpenter, &c.? Or was each Pantisocrat to train himself
for one special art, to be practised for the benefit of the whole?
Or were they to export raw produce, or poetry, the results of their
much literary leisure, and so obtain from the old civilised countries
the necessary articles for a commodious life? If the last was their
plan, their colony, by still being dependent upon other countries,
would lose its character as a complete experiment of a new social
organisation. The projectors seem to have thought of nothing beyond
the cultivation of the soil, (if they had even studied this,) and the
building or the architecture of their cottages. Never surely was such a
scheme of colonisation devised. Amongst the whole number of emigrants,
there were only two who, apparently, had ever handled anything but
books. _Shad_, the servant lad, and one "Heath an apothecary!" They
were all students, poets, or scholars; if they had ever reached the
banks of the Susquehanna, they would have found, on unpacking their
boxes, that they had all brought nothing but books.
Southey having had some notions of emigrating before he became a
Pantisocrat, is heard now and then to talk about the price of "blue
trousers and cloth jackets;" but Coleridge had a fixed idea, that all
was to be done--at least all his part was to be done--by irresistible
force of argument. "Pantisocracy!" he exclaims, in a letter which is
here quoted; "Oh! I shall have such a scheme of it! My head, my heart,
are all alive. _I have drawn up my arguments in battle array._" His
head and his heart! As to what _hands_ could do, that was to be left
to others. He, on the banks of the Susquehanna, would still draw up
arguments in battle array. "Up I rose," he says a little further on,
speaking of one who had ventured to laugh at their project, "up I
rose terrible in reasoning!" We can well believe it; and if terrible
reasoning would have founded a colony, he would have been the most
successful of emigrants. But it is palpable that in no other way, and
by no other labour, would he have assisted the new settlement. Yet when
Southey, coming to his senses, relinquished the scheme, Coleridge was
grievously offended. He might well, indeed, be the last to resign the
project. He would have gloriously defended the little band of zealots
to the latest hour of their departure; he would have stood upon the
beach, and protected their retreat from every logical assailant; he
would have seen the last man safely on board; and still he would have
stood, and reasoned, till the vessel was out of sight; then would he
have returned home, and triumphed in the great Pantisocratic settlement
he had founded in America!
Very absurd, indeed, was this scheme--very like what children plan
after reading _Robinson Crusoe_. But we must observe, that there was
nothing in it worse than its folly. There was no moral obliquity. If
these enthusiasts formed a perilous scheme, they took upon themselves
the whole of the peril. In these days, when bold theories of social
organisation are more rife than ever, it may be well to remark, that
this is the only honest way to put such theories to the test of
experiment. It is not fair of the speculative man to sit at home,
secure of the enjoyments which the present order of things procures
for him, and, from his library-table and his easy-chair, to promulgate
doctrines that may be preparing the way for future revolutions of
the most disastrous description. Unless he is _quite sure_ of his
speculations, such an act is of the nature of a crime. But to go forth,
as Southey and Coleridge, and the rest of the fraternal band intended,
to the banks of the Susquehanna, and there, unaided and uninterrupted,
reduce into practice their own theories, this would be of the nature of
heroism. Now, if there are a certain number of thinking intelligent men
and women, who have a firm faith in the possibility of a communistic
organisation of society, we should much like them to make the
experiment in the manner these Pantisocrats designed, but, of course,
with vastly better preparations for their undertaking. This would be
fair; and the experiment, though it failed, would not be without good
result. Let a certain number of such educated men and women, willing
and able to work with their hands, as well as with their brains, each
one previously trained to some necessary or useful handicraft, club
their fortunes together. Let them purchase a track of land on the banks
of the Mississippi, or wherever they think fit, and then go forth with
all the necessary implements of agriculture and manufacture, and the
requisite skill to use them, and abundant store of provision, and
there let them put to shame, by their brilliant example of equality
and fraternity, the old civilisation of mankind, founded hitherto on
the law of individual property and self-reliance. Who would not wish
them success? Even those who would prophesy nothing but failure for the
experiment, would admire the courage and good faith of those who made
it. There are few of us who would not like such an experiment to be
made--by others--always presuming, that the worst result to those who
embarked in it would be the blundering commencement of a new colony,
which would soon mould itself on the pattern of the old societies of
Europe.
But to return to the course of our biography. This visionary project,
while it lasted, was not without its real results on the career and
fortunes of Southey. Funds were to be raised, and _therefore_ a poem
was to be written. He composed with redoubled zeal his _Joan of Arc_,
his first epic, and the first performance which rendered him famous
in the world. It was not, however, published till after the vision of
Pantisocracy had vanished into thin air. The history of its publication
is well known, and how Joseph Cottle, who generously purchased the
copyright, has for ever linked his name with those of Southey and
Coleridge, by this and other good services rendered to the young poets,
when as yet the world knew nothing of their greatness.
The next result of his project was of a more serious description. All
the Pantisocrats were to be married. Whether, in Southey's case, a
previous attachment was thus suddenly matured into a formal engagement,
or whether he had been engaged to Miss Fricker even before this notable
scheme had been set on foot, we nowhere learn. Nothing is said of the
early love of the young poet--how it rose and grew and flourished.
This momentous chapter of his life is summed up in the following brief
sentence. It was all, we suppose, that the son knew of the matter.
"In the course of this month, (August 1794,) Mr Coleridge
having returned from his excursion in Wales, came to Bristol;
and my father, who was then at Bath, having gone over to meet
him, introduced him to Robert Lovell, (a Pantisocrat,) through
whom, it appears, they both, at this time, became known to Mr
Cottle; and here also Mr Coleridge first became acquainted
with his future wife, Sarah Fricker, the eldest of the three
sisters, one of whom was married to Robert Lovell, _the other
having been engaged for some time to my father_. They were
the daughters of Stephen Fricker, who had carried on a large
manufactory of sugar pans or moulds at Westbury, near Bristol,
and who, having fallen into difficulties in consequence of the
stoppage of trade by the American war, had lately died, leaving
his widow and six children wholly unprovided for."
Whatever was the date or progress of the attachment, Southey was now
engaged to be married. But there was one person whose opinion had not
yet been consulted in all these momentous enterprises. "Hitherto,"
says Mr Cuthbert Southey, "all had gone on pretty smoothly; the plan
of emigration, as well as my father's engagement to Mary, had been
carefully concealed from his aunt Miss Tyler, who, he was perfectly
aware, would most violently oppose both; and now, when at last she
became acquainted with his intentions, her anger knew no bounds."
In fact, she turned him instantly--though it was night, and raining
hard--out of her house, and shut the door for ever upon him.
We must quote the letter in which Southey gives an account of this
terrible denouement. It introduces us at once into the state of
affairs, his enthusiastic project, and the associates with whom it was
to be carried out. A rather different account, it will be observed,
is here given of its origin, than that which we have quoted from Mr
Cuthbert Southey--
"TO THOMAS SOUTHEY.
BATH, _Oct. 19, 1794_.
My Dear Brother Admiral,--Here's a row! here's a kick up!
here's a pretty commence! We have had a revolution in the
College Green, and I have been turned out of doors in a
wet night. Lo and behold! even like my own brothers, I am
penniless. It was late in the evening; the wind blew and the
rain fell, and I had walked from Bath in the morning. Luckily,
my father's old greatcoat was at Lovell's; I clapt it on,
swallowed a glass of brandy, and set off. I met an old drunken
man three miles off, and was obliged to drag him all the way to
Bath, nine miles! Oh Patience, Patience! thou hast often helped
poor Robert Southey, but never didst thou stand him in more
need than on Friday the 17th of October 1794.
Well, Tom, here I am. My aunt has declared she will never see
my face again, or open a letter of my writing. So be it. I do
my duty, and will continue to do it, be the consequences what
they may. You are unpleasantly situated, so is my mother, so
were we all, _till this grand scheme of Pantisocracy flashed
upon our minds, and now all is perfectly delightful_.
Open war--declared hostilities! The children are to come
here on Wednesday, and I meet them at the Long Coach on this
evening. My aunt abuses poor Lovell most unmercifully, and
attributes the whole scheme to him: _you know it was concerted
between Burnett and me_. But of all the whole catalogue of
enormities, nothing enrages my aunt so much as my intended
marriage with Mrs Lovell's sister Edith: this will hardly take
place till we arrive in America; it rouses the whole army of
prejudices in my aunt's breast. Pride leads the fiery host, and
a pretty kick-up they must make there....
_Everything is in the fairest train._ Favell and Le Grice, two
young Pantisocrats of nineteen, join us; they possess great
genius and energy. I have seen neither of them, yet correspond
with both. You may, perhaps, like this sonnet on the subject
of our emigration by Favell." [We skip the sonnet. It seems to
have been held sufficient testimonial for his qualifications
as an emigrant.] "This is a very beautiful piece of poetry;
and we may form a very fair opinion of Favell from it. Scott,
a brother of your acquaintance, goes with us. So much for news
relative to our private politics.
This is the age of revolutions, and a huge one we have had on
the College Green. Poor Shadrack is left there, in the burning
fiery furnace of her displeasure, and a prime hot berth has he
got of it: he saw me depart with astonishment. 'Why, sir, you
be'nt going to Bath at this time of night, and in this weather!
Do let me see you sometimes, and hear from you, and send for me
when you are going.'
We are all well, and all eager to depart. March will soon
arrive, and I hope you will be with us before that time.
Why should the man who acts from conviction of rectitude,
grieve because the prejudiced are offended? For me, I am fully
possessed by the great cause to which I have devoted myself: my
conduct has been open, sincere, and just; and though the world
were to scorn and neglect me, I should bear their contempt with
calmness. Fare thee well.
Yours in brotherly affection,
ROBERT SOUTHEY."
"It might have been hoped," continues the editor, "that this storm
would have blown over; and that, when Pantisocracy had died a natural
death, and the marriage had taken place, Miss Tyler's angry feelings
might have softened down; but it was not so--the aunt and nephew never
met again!"
To describe this "natural death of Pantisocracy" is hardly necessary.
When the expense of a passage to America presented itself as a serious
obstacle, the scene of the experiment was shifted to Wales, evidently a
mere stage in the natural process of dissolution. Brought from America
to Wales, the scheme looked even still more hopeless, and was finally
abandoned. Mr Cuthbert Southey, in the preface to his work, says,
speaking of his father--"the even tenor of his life, during its greater
portion, affords but little matter for pure biography." That portion of
his father's life with which he was personally acquainted, exhibited,
no doubt, this even tenor; but there are few men whose lives will, upon
the whole, afford more striking materials for the future biographer.
He who passed the day so evenly and uniformly at Keswick, amongst his
books, and with his ever-busy pen, had experienced some of the most
startling vicissitudes of life, and could recall scenes in which the
very strongest passions of our nature must have been called into play.
What a singular and dramatic position--how full of agitating
emotions--is that which next in order reveals itself! Pantisocracy
is relinquished; but he is engaged to be married. Aunt Tyler is
unmitigable. What is to be done? His uncle Hill comes to the rescue.
He is chaplain to the English Factory at Lisbon; is at present on
a visit to England, and will shortly return. Apparently he has
never interfered, by any useless remonstrances, with his nephew's
proceedings; he now invites him to return with him to Lisbon. Here,
at all events, is an asylum for the present; here he may enjoy an
interval of quiet thought, may study Portuguese and Spanish if he
will, may see a foreign country; above all, may pursue his cogitations
remote from republican associates--so thinks the uncle--and from Miss
Fricker. Southey accepts the invitation. But whatever may become of
his political opinions, he is resolved to put it out of his power to
commit any inconsistency towards Edith Fricker. As soon as the day
was finally fixed for his departure, he also fixed his marriage-day.
On the 14th of November 1795, he was married at Radcliffe Church,
Bristol. "Immediately after the ceremony, they parted. Edith wore
her wedding-ring hung round her neck, and kept her maiden name till
the report of the marriage had spread abroad." Writing to his friend
Bedford, he says, with truth and feeling--"Never did man stand at the
altar with such strange feelings as I did. Can you, Grosvenor, by any
effort of imagination, shadow out my emotion?... She returned the
pressure of my hand, and we parted in silence."
We cannot look upon his conduct on this occasion in any other light
than as the natural course of a noble and generous nature. There was
nothing in it unfair to the uncle. The uncle had speculated on the
probability that separation would weaken his attachment; but the
nephew had never stipulated that it should have this effect. The
uncle had also anticipated that a change of scene would cure him
of his democratic politics, but this did not put the nephew under
any obligation to renounce his politics, or to submit them as fully
as possible to the experiment to be made on them. One motive for
his hastened marriage, he tells us, was, that in the event of his
death at Lisbon, or on the voyage, his widow might have some claim
on the protection of his own relatives, some of whom were wealthy.
But on these relatives he threw no unwarrantable burden--no burden
whatever--unless such as pure generosity might feel. There was no young
family to be provided for. He would have left behind him a widow, whose
prospects in life could not have been injured by merely having borne
his name for a few months. Southey was of a confident nature, conscious
of his own great abilities, of habitual and indomitable industry.
Notwithstanding some occasional and very natural fits of depression,
he must have felt persuaded that, sooner or later, in one way or the
other, he should secure for himself a respectable position in life. He
was engaged to Edith Fricker, and he was determined she should share
that position with him, and that, in the mean time, she should at all
events have no other doubts or fears than what the inconstancy or
perversity of fortune might suggest.
Of this, his first visit to Lisbon, very little is recorded. His mind
underwent no perceptible change. We have only two letters written by
him at this period to his friends in England. From the last of them, he
appears to have been impatient to return. It is dated thus--"Feb. 24,
1796, Lisbon, from which God grant me a speedy deliverance!"
He returned the same man, and returned to the same perplexities. Full
of his poetry, occupied incessantly with literary projects, he has not
yet the courage to trust to his pen for the necessary supplies. He will
enter the profession of the law. From this he will extract that needful
revenue which shall one day establish him in his country house, with
his Edith, and amongst books of every description--except the legal.
Here follows a chapter in his history which, we think, is one of the
most instructive of the whole; certainly not the less instructive
because many others have been, and many others will be, submitted to
the same trials. If Southey had fulfilled his design, and completed his
own biography, it is probably upon this interval, between his first and
his second visit to Lisbon, that he would have thought it necessary to
dwell with the greatest minuteness.
"My father," says the son, "continued to reside in Bristol
until the close of the year 1796, chiefly employed in working
up the contents of his foreign note-books into _Letters from
Spain and Portugal_, which were published in one volume early
in the following year. This task completed, he determined to
take up his residence in London, and fairly to commence the
study of the law, which he was now enabled to do through the
true friendship of Mr C. W. W. Wynn, from whom he received,
for some years from this time, an annuity of L.160--the
prompt fulfilment of a promise made during their years of
college intimacy. This was indeed one of those acts of rare
friendship--twice honourable--'to him that gives and him that
takes it;' bestowed with pleasure, received without any painful
feelings, and often reverted to as the staff and stay of those
years when otherwise he must have felt to the full all the
manifold evils of being, as he himself expressed it, 'cut
adrift upon the ocean of life.'"
He was fairly to commence the study of the law, but he had not the
least idea of renouncing his poetical and other literary labours. If
the passion of authorship had been felt by Southey only in a slight
degree--if it had been _a little book_ he wanted to write, just to
"exhale his soul," and then to sober business--this scheme would have
been rational enough; but authorship, with its love of fame, had
become the master passion of his mind--his second nature. Of "little
books" Southey never thought--all his designs were vast, and they were
innumerable. His whole life was already pledged. He was then upon
_Madoc_, with _Thalaba_ looming in the horizon. He is writing to his
friend Bedford, just before he proceeds to London to commence the study
of the law; and only note the sort of _impedimenta_ he carries up with
him, and the very auspicious temper in which he enters on the campaign.
"I want to write my tragedies of 'The Banditti.'
Of 'Sebastian.'
Of 'Iñez de Castro.'
Of 'The Revenge of Pedro.'
My Epic poem, in twenty books, of 'Madoc.'
My novel, in three volumes, of 'Edmund Oliver.'
My romance of 'Ancient History of Alcas.'
My Norwegian tale of '---- Harfagne.'
My Oriental poem of 'The destruction of the Dom Daniel.'
And, in case I adopt Rousseau's system, my '---- Pains of
Imagination.'
There, Grosvenor, all these I want to write....
The law will neither amuse me, nor ameliorate me, nor instruct
me; but the moment it gives me a comfortable independence--and
I have but few wants--then farewell to London. I will get
me some little house near the sea, and near a country town,
for the sake of the post and the bookseller.... And perhaps,
Grosvenor, the first Christmas-day you pass with me after I am
so settled, we may make a Christmas fire of all my law-books.
Amen, so be it."
He goes to London, and is admitted of Gray's Inn, Feb. 7, 1797. A few
days afterwards, he writes in a graver mood to his early and staunch
friend Joseph Cottle.
"I am now entered on a new way of life, which will lead me to
independence. You know that I neither lightly undertake any
scheme, nor lightly abandon what I have undertaken....
As to my literary pursuits, after some consideration, I have
resolved to postpone _every other till I have concluded Madoc_.
This must be the greatest of all my works. The structure is
complete in my mind; and my mind is likewise stored with
appropriate images....
On Tuesday we shall be settled; and on Wednesday my legal
studies begin _in the morning_, and I shall begin with _Madoc
in the evening_. Of this it is needless to caution you to say
nothing, as I must have the character of a lawyer; and though
I _can_ and _will_ unite the two pursuits, no one would credit
the possibility of the union."
What follows shows, nevertheless, the folly of attempting to combine
things utterly incongruous, and the mischief that may ensue from the
attempt. It was very little that Southey could have studied the law,
but the effort to force his attention to one subject, while his mind
was really absorbed in another, and the perpetually intruding and
distracting thought that he _ought_ to be studying the law, was very
nearly ruining his health irretrievably, and converting one of the most
buoyant hilarious of men into the confirmed hypochondriac.
It was in February he came to London. The spring no sooner appeared
than he began to pine for the country; he felt his spirits exhausted;
he thought his legal studies could be as well pursued at the sea-side
as in the smoke of London; he goes to Burton in Hampshire. There, or
elsewhere in the country, he spends the whole summer. In December he
returns to London, but "remains there only a very short time." He takes
a cottage in the pretty village of Westbury, there to prosecute his
legal studies. He stays a twelve-month at Westbury; nor does he again
return to London to reside. He had attributed his ill-health to the
smoke and confinement of the metropolis, but it is after his escape
from London that his health becomes seriously deranged. He had not
escaped from his legal studies, or rather from the sense of obligation
constantly impending over him to pursue them, and the occasional
attempts to compel his attention to the repulsive task.
The law cannot be accused of having encroached seriously on time that
would have been else devoted to literature. He took long vacations,
when the hated text-book and the detestable reports were banished
entirely from his mind. Speaking of his residence at Westbury, he
says, "it was one of the happiest portions of his life: he had never
before or since produced so much poetry in the same space of time."
But still the profession hung over him, urging, from time to time, its
distracting obligations. Having escaped from the smoke of London, he
now attributes his shattered nerves to the climate of England. But it
was as little the climate of England, which his constitution afterwards
endured very well in the cold and rainy regions of Cumberland, as it
was any fair amount of intellectual labour, that was undermining his
health. It was the sense of an _unperformed_ task, and that compulsory
and distracted attention, one half hour of which more tries and
fatigues the brain than a whole morning spent in willing harmonious
effort.
Bearing these observations in mind, the following letter will be read
with peculiar interest:--
"TO GROSVENOR C. BEDFORD, ESQ.
_Kingsdown, Bristol,
Dec. 21, 1799._
Grosvenor--I think seriously of going abroad. My complaint--so
I am told by the opinion of many medical men--is wholly a
diseased sensibility, (mind you, physical sensibility,)
disordering the functions, now of the heart, now of the
intestines, and gradually debilitating me. Climate is the
obvious remedy. In my present state, to attempt to undergo
the confinement of legal application were actual suicide. I
am anxious to be well, and to attempt the profession: _much_
in it I shall never do: sometimes my principles stand in the
way, sometimes the want of readiness, which I felt from the
first--a want which I always know in company, and never in
solitude and silence. Howbeit I will make the attempt; but mark
you, if by stage-writing, or any other writing, I can acquire
independence, I will not make the sacrifice of happiness
it will inevitably cost me. I love the country, I love
study--devotedly I love it; but in legal studies it is only the
subtlety of the mind that is exercised.
* * * * *
I am not indolent; I loath indolence; but, indeed, reading law
is laborious indolence--it is thrashing straw. I have read,
and read, and read; but the devil a bit can I remember. I
have given all possible attention, and attempted to command
volition. No! The eye read, the lips pronounced, I understood
and re-read it; it was very clear; I remembered the page, the
sentence--but close the book, and all was gone!
I suffer a good deal from illness, and in a way hardly
understandable by those in health. I start from sleep as
if death had seized me. I am sensible of every pulsation,
and compelled to attend to the motion of my heart till that
attention disturbs it. The pain in my side is, I think,
lessened, nor do I at all think it is consumption: organic
affection it could not have been, else it had been constant;
and a heart disease would not have been perceived _there_. I
must go abroad, and recruit under better skies."--(Vol. ii. p.
33.)
He reads and reads, and he comprehends, but he does not remember. It
would have been marvellous if he did, reading always with a divided
attention. He never could bring all his mind to this task. "I would
rather," he says in one place, "write an epic poem than read a brief."
And in the most self-congratulatory moment, when he is the most
reconciled, or in the least bad humour with the law, he writes thus: "I
advance with sufficient rapidity. _Blackstone_ and _Madoc_! I hope to
finish my poem and begin my practice in about two years. I am clearing
a farm; I am painting a landscape that shall rival Claude Lorraine!"
Southey had resolved to be poet and lawyer both. If he had really
delighted in both studies--as Sir William Jones seems to have done--he
might, like Sir William, have attained a certain degree of excellence
in both. We have a living example before us of a judge who has written
a far more beautiful poem than half-a-dozen Sir Williams could have
indited. But with Southey one of these studies was not only indifferent
but intolerable, whilst the other was most delectable. Under these
circumstances, the attempt to unite them was ruining one of the best
constitutions that a student was ever blest with by nature. We have no
doubt that, if he had much longer seriously persisted in this attempt,
there would have been a general wreck and ruin of mind and body both.
"My health," he says, writing to Mr May, "fluctuates, and the necessity
of changing climate is sadly and sufficiently obvious, lest, though
my disease should prove of no serious danger, the worst habits of
hypochondriasm fasten upon me, and palsy all intellectual power." He
took the wisest resolution the circumstances of the case admitted
of--he embarked for Lisbon. He threw off entirely--at all events for a
season, perhaps, in secret, for ever--the anxious burden of the law. He
gave his whole soul to poetry; rode about in the paradise of Cintra,
and wrote the concluding books of his _Thalaba_. So was he rescued from
the fate of a nervous hypochondriac patient.
It is a piece of advice we would give to every man, but especially to
the student. Harmonise your labours. If ambition prompt you to mingle
two conflicting studies that will not accord, that breed perpetual
civil war in the mind, we charge you to fling away ambition. If the
higher, and more ambitious, and more beloved study--be it science, or
poetry, or philosophy--will not yield, then choose at once for it and
poverty, if such must be the alternative. Better anything than a ruined
disordered mind; or, if you prefer the expression, than a confirmed
cerebral disease.
Very pleasant was the life that Southey led at Lisbon and at Cintra,
and very agreeable are the letters that he writes to England during
this second visit to the Peninsula.
"You would be amused," he says in one of them, "could you see
Edith and myself on ass-back--I sitting sideways, gloriously
lazy, with a boy to beat my Bayardo, as well adapted to me as
ever that wild courser was to Rinaldo. In this climate there
is no walking, a little exercise heats so immoderately; but
their cork woods, or fir woods, and mountain glens, and rock
pyramids, and ever-flowing fountains, and lemon-groves ever in
flower and in fruit, want only society to become a paradise.
Could I but colonise Cintra with half-a-dozen families, I
should never wish to leave it. As it is, I am comfortable, my
health establishing itself, my spirits everlastingly partaking
the sunshine of the climate. Yet I _do_ hunger after the
bread-and-butter, and the fireside comforts, and the intellect
of England."--(Vol. ii. p. 109.)
On his return to England we hear no more of the law, or we hear only
that it was entirely abandoned. We find him writing to Bedford (p. 159)
about one solitary remaining law-book--"my whole proper stock--whom I
design to take up to the top of Mount Etna, for the express purpose of
throwing him down straight to the devil."
His sojourn in the Continent had led him to think that some foreign
consulship would not be unacceptable. No appointment of this kind,
however, offered itself. That of private secretary to Mr Corry,
Chancellor of the Exchequer for Ireland, was proposed to him, and he
accepted it. "This had been brought about," says the Editor, "through
his friend Mr Rickman, who was at that time secretary to Mr Abbot,
and in consequence residing in Dublin--an additional inducement to my
father to accept the appointment, as he would have to reside there
himself during half the year."
He went to Dublin to take possession of his new office, but soon
after returned to London, where the Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer
was in the habit of residing during the winter portion of the year.
Mr Corry is described as a man of mild unassuming manners; and "the
Chancellor and his scribe" got on very well together. But the
Chancellor discovered that he had nothing to do for his very clever
secretary. Having no sufficient official employment, he proposed to him
to undertake the tuition of his son. This "was not in the bond," nor at
all suited to Southey's habits and inclinations. To use his own words,
he therefore resigned "a foolish office, and a good salary."
This was the last serious attempt he made to obtain the necessary
supplies from any other source than his pen. He betook himself steadily
to reviewing and other literary work. The _Annual Register_ offered
him constant employment till the _Quarterly_ was established. For his
residence, he thought first of Richmond, on the Thames; then of the
Valley of Neath in Wales; finally, he established himself at KESWICK.
We have thus brought down his biography to the period when, his
political opinions considerably modified, and his literary avocations
clearly defined before him, he takes up his residence at that place
which will for ever be associated with his name, and assumes that
character and position in which he was so long known and honoured by
his contemporaries. Before leaving England, on his second voyage to
Lisbon, he had written _Madoc_, (that is, in its rough state,) and
had composed the greater part of _Thalaba_. The concluding books of
_Thalaba_--that charming episode of _Laila_--were written amongst the
hills and the cork forests of Cintra. The completed manuscript was sent
to England, and was published soon after his own return. _Madoc_ there
received its last corrections and additions. The time is now come when
we can take a glance at these and other poetical works, which were,
and still are, the basis of his fame. The author is now himself moored
safely in still waters, and his life henceforth is little more than the
history of his writings, of his mind, his opinions, and his acts of
beneficence; for these last occupy no small space in it. No relative
can put in a claim to his assistance but it is granted to the utmost of
his power, and often beyond such restrictions as prudence, and a regard
to nearer claims, would suggest. He is open to the very enthusiasm of
friendship, and prepared for any self-sacrifice that the most romantic
sense of duty can demand. Nor is there any young poet struggling with
that world which his love of letters has made appear so harsh and
cruel, to whom Southey does not extend his sympathy, his guidance, and
his aid. But as the remaining portion of our task would occupy more
space than we could assign to it, and as we have arrived at a fair
halting-place, we will here break off for the present.
THE MINISTRY AND THE AGRICULTURAL INTEREST
In the Speech delivered from the Throne at the opening of the present
Session of Parliament, the following passage will be found:
"Notwithstanding the large reductions of taxation which have been
effected in late years, the receipts of the Revenue have been
satisfactory. The state of the Commerce and Manufactures of the
United Kingdom has been such as to afford general employment to the
labouring classes. I have to lament, however, the difficulties which
are still felt by that important body among my people who are owners
and occupiers of land; but it is my confident hope that the prosperous
condition of other classes of my subjects will have a favourable effect
in diminishing those difficulties, and promoting the interests of
agriculture."
Without attaching too much importance to the phraseology of this
Address, it will, we think, be admitted by every one who recollects the
dissensions of last year, that her Majesty's Ministers, by inserting
in the royal Address this acknowledgment of the difficulties under
which the owners and occupiers of land are labouring, have virtually
abandoned their ground; and are not now, as formerly, prepared to
maintain that agricultural depression, arising from low prices, is
to be considered simply as an accident, and not as the result of
legislation. Last year we were told, on high Ministerial authority,
that the low prices then current were merely exceptional, and could not
continue; and that a signal check had been given to the importation of
foreign grain. "Therefore," said Sir Charles Wood, "the farmer need
not apprehend that ruin from the operation of Free Trade, which he
at present anticipates from prices under 40s. a quarter." But time,
more infallible than Sir Charles Wood, or any other Chancellor of
the Exchequer, has proved that all these notions are fallacies. The
importation continues, and prices droop. During the twelve months
which have elapsed, there has been no symptom of rallying; and it is
now almost universally admitted, that the depreciation of the value of
agricultural produce is permanent, and must so continue in the absence
of a protective duty.
We are always glad to see a fallacy cleared out of our path. The
idea that high-farming can ever be made an adequate substitute for
protection, was exploded last year; and now the efforts of the Whigs
to demonstrate that importations cannot continue, have been abandoned.
The state of the case is precisely that which we laid before the public
in January 1850; and no one thinks of denying it. Even those journals,
which, from time to time, have hazarded vaticinations as to rises in
the value of produce, are compelled to acknowledge their fallibility,
or drop their pretensions to the mantle of the gifted seer.
The matter is, therefore, very materially simplified. We are justified
in holding that henceforth, under the system of free ports, the
average price of the quarter of wheat in England will not exceed 40s.,
and may possibly be much lower when the resources of the Continent
and America, both aware of their market, are fully developed. In
Scotland, the average must necessarily be two or three shillings less.
A corresponding fall has taken place, and will continue, in all other
kinds of cereal crop and of provisions. If these data are admitted--and
a very short period will now suffice to establish or refute their
accuracy--the agricultural question may be discussed without any
specialities whatever. Every man throughout the country will have the
means of forming his judgment upon the actual working of the measure,
and its effect, both direct and indirect, upon all branches of British
industry. It is most desirable, on every account, that there should
be no mistake as to this. Our opponents--perhaps naturally enough
exasperated at the prolongation of a combat in which they have been
uniformly worsted when the weapons of argument were employed, and being
moreover aware, from symptoms which are everywhere, manifested, that
the period of delusion is nearly gone by--have over and over again
charged the country party and its chiefs with a desire to cut short
the experiment, before its results were sufficiently apparent. We need
hardly say that the charge is utterly unfounded. We have no wish to
precipitate matters, or to effect by a _coup-de-main_ that alteration
which never can be permanent unless based on the conviction of the
majority of the constituencies of the Empire. We have no desire to take
a leaf from the book of recent statesmen, and to induce members of
Parliament to act contrary to those declarations on the faith of which
they were returned. But we are entitled--nay, we are bound--to watch
the experiment as it proceeds, and ever and anon to declare our honest
and sincere opinion as to the nature of its working. We cannot shut our
eyes to the vast injury which it is causing, and has already caused, to
a most important and numerous class of our fellow-countrymen; we cannot
reconcile ourselves to the operation of a system which has undoubtedly
disappointed the expectations even of its founders. We have,
therefore, whenever that was needful, expressed our opinion without
any reservation whatever; and we shall continue to do so, not the less
confidently because the views which we entertain are now openly adopted
and received by many who were heretofore unwilling to disturb a course
of legislation which had been deliberately sanctioned by the State.
We beg to assure the Free-Traders that we never, for one moment,
underestimated the advantages of their position. At the commencement
of this Parliament, they had a majority large enough--supposing that
their cause was good, and their boasted experiment successful--to
render all idea of a return of protection perfectly futile and
hopeless. And, therefore, we were told, day after day, and month after
month, that it was in vain for us to struggle against the tide--that
a course of policy such as this, once commenced, must be regarded as
irrevocable--and that we were merely losing time in demonstrating,
what latterly was hardly denied, that the agricultural interest could
not maintain itself under the pressure of the growing competition.
But those who held such language seemed to have forgotten that the
experiment, upon the success of which they had staked their reputation
for sagacity, was all the while progressing before the eyes of the
nation. Had its progress been successful and satisfactory, the country
party must long ere this have dwindled away into nothing. Can our
opponents not see that it is the failure of Free Trade alone which
constitutes our strength? In the late debate upon Mr Disraeli's motion,
Sir James Graham, who is certainly not apt to exaggerate the power of
his opponents, spoke as follows: "I see very plainly that we are on
the eve of a great and serious struggle. I see a party of gentlemen in
this and the other house of Parliament, powerful in numbers, powerful
in the respect in which they are held for their personal and hereditary
virtues, having great influence in the country, and great possessions.
They are an interest which, up to the present moment, has commanded
great influence with the Government; and, with the main body of the
community at their back, they exercise a power upon any question that
is irresistible.... With such opponents it behoves us to gird up our
loins. I know not whether the watchword, 'Up, guards, and at them!'
may not already have been given. It is clear to me that the opponents
of protection must prepare for a severe contest. They must stand upon
the defensive. They must stand to their arms, and close their ranks,
and prepare for a firm, manly, and uncompromising resistance!" Now,
considering that not more than two years have elapsed since it was the
fashion of the Liberal journals to aver that the country party was
all but extinct, helpless in the House of Commons, and unsupported
beyond its doors, this estimate of Sir James Graham is undoubtedly
remarkable. We are naturally led to inquire how it is that the cause of
protection has made so prodigious a stride--why it should now appear
so formidable in the eyes of an old and experienced statesman? No
other reason can be assigned than the justice of the cause which the
country party have maintained, and the failure of the experiment to
which their adversaries were pledged. If there are any new "opponents"
to Free Trade within the House of Commons, they have either been sent
there by constituencies since the present Parliament was summoned, or
they have become convinced of the error of their former views, and
seceded from the Ministerial ranks. If, beyond the House of Commons,
men are changing their opinions to that extent which Sir James Graham
indicates, surely that is no argument in favour of the party which
still is dominant--no testimony which can be adduced to support the
wisdom of their policy. Rather should it be to us a great encouragement
to persevere as we have begun, for it conveys a direct acknowledgment
of the truth of those arguments which we have all along maintained.
Very absurd indeed is the accusation, that the Protectionists will
not allow fair play to the progress of the experiment. Hitherto the
promoters of the experiment have had it all their own way, and have
been allowed to go on without any check or impediment. They profess
themselves to be extremely well satisfied with the result; and yet,
singularly enough, whenever a division occurs upon any point arising
from their policy, they find their boasted majority becoming less and
less. The conduct of the Protectionist party has indeed been marked by
an extraordinary degree of forbearance. But the supporters of the cause
without the walls of St Stephen's have full reliance on the integrity
and the discretion of their champions within. They have not forgotten
the distinct announcement of Lord Stanley that, "it is not in the House
of Lords, nor in the House of Commons, but in the country at large that
the battle must be fought, and the triumph achieved;" and they have
no desire, through rash impatience, to endanger the coming victory.
But, whilst refraining from a direct attack upon the principles of the
Free-Trade system, our representatives in Parliament are by no means
oblivious of their duty. The peculiar burdens on land and agricultural
property and produce have not been removed, notwithstanding the
promises which were made; and as the Chancellor of the Exchequer
announced that he had a surplus of revenue in hand, the Government very
naturally been called upon to consider, whether that surplus should
not be applied to the alleviation of the distress among "the owners
and occupiers of land," admitted, in the Royal Speech, to exist; and
whether, in fact, they have not a righteous claim to a considerable
reduction of their burdens?
Such was the tenor of Mr Disraeli's motion, which was negatived, in a
crowded house, by a majority of only FOURTEEN. In the proposal itself
there was nothing unreasonable--nothing which even faction could lay
hold of. The difficulties of one class in the community were admitted
by Ministers, and contrasted by them with the general prosperity which
was assumed as the condition of all others. It was not denied, but
rather stated as matter of exultation, that this general prosperity
arose from the same cause which had occasioned the depression--that the
same fountain had given forth both sweet and bitter waters, refreshing
and enlivening on the one side, whilst, on the other, it spread decay.
Under these circumstances, it will not be denied, by any unprejudiced
person, that it was the bounden duty of Her Majesty's Ministers--not
to come forward voluntarily with any remission to the suffering class,
which might be construed as a favour--but seriously to consider whether
or not the statement preferred on the part of the agriculturists, that
they were unjustly and unequally burdened and restricted, was true; and
if it were true, then to accord relief in a fair and equitable manner.
Sorry are we, indeed, to say, that neither her Majesty's Ministers, nor
such of the supporters of the late Sir Robert Peel as spoke and voted
on the motion, had the courage to face openly this question of abstract
justice. It was enough for them that the proposition was made by a
leader of the country party, and that it was generally supported by
those opposed to their commercial policy. These circumstances were of
themselves sufficient to secure its rejection, even had the discussion
of it not involved points to which no Free-Trader has ever yet ventured
to address himself.
What these points are, we shall presently examine. But first let us go
back for a little to what are matters of history.
In the first speech which he delivered in the House of Commons,
during the eventful Session of 1846, the late Sir Robert Peel, while
paving the way for the introduction of his Free-Trade measures,
made the following remarks with regard to the peculiar burdens upon
land:--"Further, it may be said that the land is entitled to protection
on account of some peculiar burdens which it bears. But that is a
question of justice, rather than of policy: _I have always felt and
maintained that the land is subject to peculiar burdens_; but you
have the power of weakening the force of that argument by the removal
of the burden, or making compensation. The first three objections to
the removal of protection are objections founded on considerations
of public policy. _The last is a question of justice, which may be
determined by giving some counter-balancing advantage._" Further, on
the very same evening, the present Premier, Lord John Russell, thought
fit to read to the House of Commons a letter which bad been addressed
by him to Her Majesty, of which the following is an extract:--"The
measures which Sir Robert Peel had in contemplation appear to have
been--a present suspension of the duties of corn--a repeal of the Corn
Laws at no remote period, preceded by a diminution of duties--_relief
to the occupiers of land from burdens by which they are peculiarly
affected_, so far as it may be practicable. Upon full consideration
of these proposals, Lord John Russell is prepared to assent to the
opening of the ports, _and to the fiscal relief which it was intended
to afford_." On that evening, (22d January 1846,) Lord John was in
a peculiarly communicative mood; for, besides the letter of 16th
December 1845, of which the foregoing is an extract, he read to the
House another epistle, dated the 20th, informing Her Majesty that
he had found it impossible to form an Administration. That letter,
moreover, contains a sketch of what the noble lord proposed to have
done, provided it had been possible to procure the aid of that galaxy
of talent with which he is now surrounded. "Lord John Russell would
have formed his Ministry on the basis of a complete free trade in corn,
to be established at once, without gradation or delay. _He would have
accompanied that proposal with measures of relief, to a considerable
extent, of the occupiers of land, from the burdens to which they are
subjected._"
Now, we beg the reader distinctly to mark the character of these
several admissions made by Sir Robert Peel and by Lord John Russell.
They were made five years ago--are quite unequivocal--and demonstrate
the opinion of both, that, _in justice_, no alteration should be
made in the laws which regulated the admission of foreign grain,
without granting to the occupiers of the soil a relief from their
peculiar burdens. This is a matter which it is very necessary to keep
in view, inasmuch as we cannot compliment Lord John Russell on his
general ethical perceptions. He has an odd way of addressing the whole
agricultural body as if they were liable for the consequences of the
rejection or acceptance of certain proposals, which, in office or out
of it, he thought proper to make to certain members of Parliament--a
mode of dealing which, in our humble mind, is more suitable to a sharp
attorney than to a wise and enlightened statesman.
What followed is well known to every one. The Free-Trade measures
proposed by Sir Robert Peel were carried, and Lord John Russell
succeeded him in office; still, however, not one word was heard
about the promised relief to the agriculturists. It is quite true
that there was no explicit bargain, but justice is independent of
bargains. Both Ministers had expressed their opinion that, in the
event of the repeal of the Corn Laws, it was not only reasonable, but
JUST, that the agriculturists should be relieved from certain burdens
peculiar to them alone; and yet neither of them took one step in the
direction of justice. At that time it was notorious that neither of
them contemplated the disastrous effects of their measures upon the
landed interest. They imagined--foolishly enough, it is true, but in
accordance with the false data on which they proceeded--that very
limited supplies of grain would be thrown into this country, and that
consequently prices could not be affected to any large degree. We
cannot read the different speeches of Sir Robert Peel, guarded as they
were, without concluding that he never contemplated a permanent fall in
the price of wheat below 50s. per quarter, if he even expected it to
drop so low; and yet, these being his calculations, he admitted that
it was not just to expose the agricultural body to that contingency,
without giving them a measure of relief. We all know what has occurred.
An average of 40s. is now considered a high price in England, as
markets go; and in Scotland we are settling down to 36s.; yet still the
preliminary measure of justice, which, according to both Ministers,
ought to have accompanied the repeal of the Corn Laws, is withheld.
With a surplus in their hands, Ministers refrain from applying it to
the discharge of the just debt and when the debt is claimed--as it
was the other day by Mr Disraeli, in terms not less distinct than
forcible--they give it the go-by, and commence declaiming on the
impolicy of a return to protection--a point which was not before them!
It is difficult, indeed, to observe the limits of conventional decorum
while commenting on conduct like this. Had Mr Disraeli demanded the
re-imposition of a duty, whether fixed or variable, we should of
course have expected that, however strong his case, he would be met
by strenuous opposition. The Whigs have committed themselves so far
that, were it proved to them that in the course of a single year, the
whole agricultural interest must perish unless their whole system of
commercial policy were changed, we should not expect them to step in
and offer to stay the calamity. In this line of dogged inaction and
obstinacy they would probably receive the congenial support of the
small rump of Conservative renegades, who follow them rather through
the necessity of their degraded position, than from any abstract love
they bear to the Whig dominant faction. But Mr Disraeli asked nothing
of the kind. He simply pointed out the fact, which could brook no
denial, that certain burdens and restrictions were still imposed upon
the agriculturists, which prevented them from entering on anything
like, equal terms, into that course of competition which is the glory
and essence of Free Trade. He demanded the removal of these, or, at all
events, all impartial adjustment of them, in order that the British
agriculturist might have fair play, and not be brought into the field
loaded and oppressed by a weight which no other class of the community
is called upon to bear. It was no question of countervailing duties to
put the British on a level with the foreign producer: it was simply
a question of home taxation between class and class, and between man
and man. Under the system of protection, burdens had been laid largely
upon the land, and the land alone; restrictions had been laid upon the
occupiers, forbidding them to grow certain valuable crops, in order
that the revenue might be maintained by fixed custom-duties, levied on
the same articles when imported from foreign countries; and certain
other produce was placed under the fetters of the Excise. The system
of protection fell, but the burdens and restrictions remain. Apart
altogether from the foreign question--apart from considerations whether
the owner and occupier of land in Britain can compete with foreigners
in his own market on equal terms whilst the burden of British taxation
remains undiminished--lies the question of fair and equal adjustment
of taxation among ourselves. It may be that this is difficult--it may
even prove to be impossible. The state of the public revenue may be
such, that no Government can accord to the occupiers of land their
natural right of producing what crops they please, or abrogate the
laws which have the effect of restricting certain kinds of produce to
very narrow limits. It may be that human ingenuity cannot devise a
method for setting agricultural industry free in all its branches, and
allowing that open competition which is not withheld from any kind of
manufacture if so, that is the strongest of all arguments in favour
of protection, and it were well if it were thoroughly understood. And
understood it is by many, though some of those who understand it find
it convenient to do their utmost to perpetuate an act of injustice. Sir
James Graham, Mr Cobden--ay, twenty more of those who either spoke or
voted against Mr Disraeli's motion, have declared themselves hostile
to the continuance of the malt-tax, and yet we see the result. But
there are, according to the recorded admissions of both Sir Robert Peel
and Lord John Russell, burdens from which the agriculturists ought in
common justice to be freed--or rather, from which they ought to _have
been_ freed long ago; and yet even this poor modicum or instalment
of justice is denied. And when is it denied? At the very time when
the Ministry boast of the general prosperity of the country, with the
exception of one single class, at whose expense, they allow, this
general prosperity has been gained! At the very time when they are in
possession of a surplus of revenue, part of which is to be applied to a
remission of duties on foreign timber!
We rejoice that the question has been brought forward fairly, manfully,
and openly. The division, and still more the tone of the debate, must
show the agriculturists how hopeless it is to expect any redress from
her Majesty's present advisers. No one speaker attempted to meet Mr
Disraeli on the ground to which he strictly confined himself. "If I
am asked," said he, "what is my remedy for the difficulties of the
owners and occupiers of land, my answer, on the part of those who sit
around me, is brief. It is--We want justice. We ask that you shall
not prohibit or restrain our industry. We ask that you shall not levy
upon us direct burdens for public purposes, to which very few other
classes contribute. We ask that you shall not throw upon us, who,
according to your own account, are the only class that is in a state
of prolonged distress, the burden of your system. That is what we ask.
We say--remove this enormous injustice, and let us be fairly weighted
in the race. We shrink not from the competition which you have thought
fit to open to our enemies; but do not let us enter into the struggle
manacled." Was there anything in this discordant with the theories
of Free Trade? Was there any claim advanced for the maintenance or
the imposition of burdens pressing upon the rest of the community to
the advantage of the agricultural class? Nothing of the kind. It was,
on the contrary, a demand which, if the Free-Traders had an atom of
principle, could not be refused, unless they were prepared to maintain
that they alone had a right to immunity of taxation. So strong was Mr
Disraeli's argument--so irresistible were his conclusions, that no one
orator on the other side ventured to meet him fairly. The Chancellor of
the Exchequer brought forward statistics, letters, reports, newspaper
articles, and all the other gallimaufry which elaborate subordinates
are expected to supply on such occasions, for the purpose of showing
that trade was in a healthy condition, exports increasing, and what
not;--things, even supposing them to be true, quite as relevant to
the matter in dispute, as if he had read a statistical account of the
commerce of China. One point he certainly did touch, and that was the
saving clause in the Speech from the Throne, expressing "my confident
hope that the prosperous condition of other classes of my subjects
will have a favourable effect in diminishing those difficulties, and
promoting the interests of agriculture." Upon this text Sir Charles
Wood chose to dilate, asking, "Is it possible that the agricultural
interest can stand so much separated from the rest of the community as
not to be benefited by their prosperity, and derive advantage from the
great and increasing demand for their produce which that prosperity
must create?" _Great and increasing demand_ FOR THEIR PRODUCE!! Why,
according to the same authority, the prosperity of the said classes has
been created, or, at all events, augmented, by their deriving their
supplies abroad, from the foreign producer who can afford to undersell
the overburdened British farmer! Something like ten or twelve millions
of quarters of grain are now annually forced into this country,
whatever be the quality of the harvest; as also provisions enough to
feed the army, victual the navy, and supply the sea-coast towns; and
live cattle innumerable are shipped for our eastern ports. And this,
according to Sir Charles Wood, is to create a great and increasing
demand for British agricultural produce! We may say frankly, that
although we never entertained a high estimate of the intellectual
powers, acquirements, or sagacity of this member of the Cabinet, we
should not have ventured to accuse him of such sheer imbecility as this
speech of his betrays, save on his own evidence. We believe him to be
perfectly sincere. Even had he the desire to practise it, nature has
fortunately denied him the possession of the talent of casuistry. His
optics are like those of the owl in daylight, utterly irreconcilable
with the common standard of vision, and therefore we need not wonder
if, ever and anon, he dashes himself unconsciously against a tree.
Neither have we much to say to the speech of the Premier. If we are
to consider it in the light of a hortatory warning against any future
attempt to regain protection, it is not without its value. We know
very well that it is much easier and more popular to remit, than
to impose a duty; and the ancient experiences of the noble lord in
fostering democratic agitation, make him a valuable witness in all
that relates to the probable causes of tumult. But Lord John Russell,
in his forcible sketch of the awful consequences of any return to
the protective system, did, as it seems to us, not only mistake the
question before him, but overlook, whether wilfully or casually, the
express statement of Mr Disraeli, which embodies the declared views
of the chiefs of the country party. Let us see what that statement
was:--"I am extremely anxious that I should obtain no support to-night
under a false pretence, and that I should not incur any opposition by
the same means. I trust no honourable gentleman will rise to-night
and say that this motion is a direct or an indirect attack on our
new commercial system. Far from it. It is in consequence of your new
commercial system that I have felt it my duty to make this motion, and
to try to adapt, if I can, the position of the owners and occupiers
of land to that new commercial system you have introduced. Nor let
any honourable gentleman support me to-night in the idea that this
is an attempt to bring back protection in disguise. Nothing of the
kind. I last year said what I now adhere to severely, strictly, even
religiously. I said then that I would not, in this Parliament, make
any attempt to bring back the abrogated system of protection, and I
gave my reasons for that course. I deeply deplored at the time the
circumstances of the change. I deeply deplored that a Parliament and
a Ministry, which, if not formally, at least virtually--and that is
of much more importance in the opinion of the constituencies--were
pledged to uphold the system of protection, should have abrogated
it. I think there was in that circumstance a clear plain cause of
quarrel between Parliament and the constituencies; but I cannot
forget what passed after that great change. The general elections
took place; that opportunity was afforded to the constituencies, even
if they were betrayed, to recall the legislation the abrogation of
which they deplored. I cannot forget that the agricultural body in
particular were warned by their best and most powerful friend--now
lost to us--not to lose that opportunity, because it was their only
one. I cannot forget that they rejected that counsel; that, misled by
the superficial circumstances of the moment, the prices of the year,
which were undoubtedly the result of exceptional circumstances, they
did not support us in the policy we recommended; and I for one, sir,
cannot consent that the laws which regulate the industry of a great
nation should be made the shuttlecock of party strife. I say that,
if I thought I might, by a chance majority, bring back the system
called 'protection,' I would shrink from it. That is a thing which
must be done out of the House, _and done out of the House by no chance
majority, but by the free unfettered expression of public opinion_; and
no other result can be satisfactory to any class, or conducive to the
general welfare. I have expressed this opinion before, and honourable
gentlemen opposite, if they will condescend to recollect what I have
said, will do me the justice of admitting I have done so. I repeat it
now, because I wish no one to be in error with respect to my motives,
my object, and the policy I wish Government to pursue."
As to the distinctness of this statement in all its parts, there can
be no difference of opinion. Some who are not merely smarting, but
writhing under the injuries inflicted by Free Trade, may think that Mr
Disraeli has taken too dispassionate a view of the case, and that the
line of conduct which he has announced, and which he declares himself
determined to follow, is less energetic than suits the emergency of the
present crisis. Deeply as we deplore the misery which exists, and the
evils which have been occasioned, we cannot do otherwise than express
our entire concurrence with the views so ably stated. Protection cannot
be regained by a side-wind, or a mere casual and hasty vote. It must
be brought in by the voice of the constituencies, and according to the
forms of the Constitution, or not at all; and he is no friend of the
agricultural body who would counsel otherwise. Therefore we say, that
Mr Disraeli performed a most manly, proper, and timely act in making
that distinct declaration; and we verily believe that nothing could
have galled the Free-Traders more, or struck greater consternation into
their ranks, than the simple and clear avowal of the principles by
which the advocates of native industry are determined to abide. Lord
John Russell evidently felt himself placed in an awkward position.
He was of course prepared to combat any proposal for a return to
protection, but he had not one argument to meet the demand for justice
which Mr Disraeli so strongly urged on the part of the agricultural
body. Where could he find any? We have seen that, five years ago, he
acknowledged the justice of the claim, and, by a broad admission of
agricultural distress in the Speech from the Throne, he virtually
confessed that the time had arrived when all fair remissions should be
made, more especially as he had the means to do so. But, finding it
impossible to meet Mr Disraeli on the only ground which he occupied,
the shifty Premier thought fit to evade the question altogether, and,
under the sheltering shield of Sir James Graham, who preceded him in
the debate, to utter a harangue upon the dangers to which the country
would be exposed should protection carry the day. Now, we have nothing
whatever to say upon the subject of Lord John Russell's vaticinations,
simply considered as such. A return to protection may be bad, or it
may be good; it may make us poorer or richer; it may involve us in new
difficulties, or it may free us from those which confessedly exist at
present. All that is matter of opinion. But has Lord John Russell so
far forgotten his old constitutional creed, as to maintain that, if the
majority of the constituencies should declare in favour of protection,
and the majority of the House of Peers adopt the same view, the present
commercial system is not to be reversed? And if he does not mean that,
why all this empty bluster and ridiculous vapouring upon a point which
has not yet been mooted? There is no Guy Fawkes' conspiracy going on in
the cellars to blow the Treasury benches, with their occupants, into
the air; there is no intention on the part of the Protectionists to
call the yeomanry of England together, and march them upon Westminster,
to see their wrongs redressed by force of arms. If the noble lord
dreads anything, it is a moral reaction on the part of the people--on
the part of the voters throughout the country, who hold the franchise,
and return members to the House of Commons; and if he denounces the
acts of a majority so obtained,--why, we must even seek out a new
interpreter of the mysteries of the British Constitution!
In sober sadness, we could almost find it in our heart to be sorry
for Lord John Russell. For years past he has had it in his power very
materially to strengthen his position, by acting up to the tenor
of those letters which we referred to in the commencement of this
article. We do not say that any such arrangement would or could have
satisfied the agricultural interest; for the vicissitude which they
have experienced has proved so tremendous, that no adjustment of
taxation could act as a remedy for the evil. Nevertheless, it was
perfectly open to the Premier to have freed himself at once from
the trammels of party--to have taken a high, honourable, and bold
position--and to have insisted that the interest which was made the
subject of experiment should be placed as nearly as possible, in so far
as regards taxation, on an equal footing with the other interests of
the country. To that line of conduct, indeed, his credit, if not his
honour, was pledged; and we confess that we cannot fathom the motive
which has led him first to delay, and then directly to refuse, what
he once acknowledged to be an act of simple justice. What ulterior
views the Whig Cabinet may entertain, we have no means of guessing;
but if it should be, as has already been surmised, that they calculate
on maintaining their supremacy through the ruin of the most important
branch of the producers of the United Kingdom, they may look for
a struggle not less desperate than that which Lord John Russell
has predicted as the consequence of a constitutional return to the
protective system.
But, to keep to the actual question which was before the House of
Commons--the question as to the peculiar burdens imposed upon the
land--let us see Lord John Russell's opinion in 1851, contrasted with
his opinion in 1846. He thus speaks in reply to Mr Disraeli:--"Well,
but it is said that land is burdened in a special manner, and that
the owners should receive compensation. Why, I remember when a friend
of mine, who is now Governor General of the Ionian Islands, year
after year attempted to gain a Select Committee for the Purpose of
considering what were the burdens upon the land; that those gentlemen
who are the most clamorous for protection never could bear to consent,
and used to come forward to beg that there might be no inquiry, and to
stop all attempts at investigation; and now it appears that, without
any investigation at all, we are to suppose those great and unfair
burdens are placed on the land." Without any investigation at all!
What reduction, then, was Lord John Russell willing to have given in
1846? Was he, an ex-Prime Minister, so entirely ignorant of our fiscal
system, that he did not know what were the peculiar burdens upon land?
If so, it is manifest that he had not passed his apprenticeship when he
was pretending to act as a master. But, in reality, the subterfuge is
as mean as it is ridiculous. Never was a promise to pay more clumsily
and disgracefully eluded; and we only regret that the stamp duties
are not sufficiently comprehensive to include within their reach, in
a legally binding form, the promises or offers of an ex-Minister who
is making a violent effort to re-establish himself, his relations and
friends, in the highest offices of these kingdoms.
Absolutely, however, we care nothing for what was said in this
discussion by Lord John Russell or his colleagues. They have taken
their part, and they are determined to abide by it; and from their
hands the agriculturists need not look for the slightest measure
of relief. According to the Whig creed, each fresh importation of
corn, flour, provisions, and cattle, must tend to "diminishing the
difficulties, and promoting the interests of agriculture," since by
those means the general prosperity of the country has been attained,
and it is through that general prosperity alone that agriculture is
hereafter to profit. In short, the doctrine is, that an increased
consumption of foreign produce in Great Britain must materially tend to
the prosperity of the British agriculturist! Truly, political economy,
as thus interpreted, is a great and wonderful science!
But we have a few words to say with regard to another section of
politicians, who were represented on this occasion by their present
chief Sir James Graham. Notwithstanding the violent efforts which
have been made to keep it together, that party has undergone, during
the last twelve months, a very considerable modification. The great
head and originator of it has been removed from this world, and many
who were content to fight under his banner have not cared to renew
their oath of allegiance to a less trusted and popular captain. Sir
James Graham has some excellent qualities and accomplishments, but he
is wanting in others. He is the very Reuben of politics; unstable as
water, uncertain as the winds of heaven. With the fussy assistance
of his prime janissary, Mr Cardwell, he has been attempting for some
time back to intrench himself in a small camp, apart from the larger
leaguers, and to maintain such a semblance of exact neutrality,
that neither party, on the eve of joining battle, can confidently
reckon on his support. It must be acknowledged that he is true to his
hereditary traditions. The Grahams of "the Debateable Land," as that
tract of country occupied by the clan was denominated, were, in the
days of Border warfare, accounted neither Scots nor English. One day
they appeared on the one side, and on the next they showed face on
the other. That method, however, though it may have its conveniences,
is not likely to meet with much approval at the present day. The
Free-lance system has gone out of fashion; and we confess that we
are not sorry to observe that Sir James Graham has at last committed
himself so decidedly, that the country party must hereafter regard him
in the light of a permanent foe. Do not let us be misunderstood. We
acknowledge the great advantage of his services as a friend: we have
not the least desire to depreciate or undervalue his abilities as a
debater. But now, more than ever, it is important to know distinctly
who are for us, and who against us. Sir James Graham, in so far as
his own opinions are concerned, has left no doubt whatever on the
matter. He has not only joined with Lord John Russell in denying
the justice of any claim whatever on the part of the agricultural
interest, but he has taken the bolder step of practically denying the
existence of agricultural distress. We cannot attach any other meaning
to that portion of his speech, in which he alludes to the state of
his own tenantry, and the condition of the Scottish farmers. We shall
transcribe it here, in order that our readers may fully understand the
views of the right honourable baronet:--
"I pass from the handloom weavers to the farmers and landlords
of Cumberland. I know none of the cases to which the honourable
member alluded of my own knowledge; but he adverted to a farm
which has been recently relet in Cumberland at a considerable
diminution of rent. The noble marquis has spoken of his
labourers. Perhaps I may here be permitted to say a few words
of mine. I have already stated to you the infinite obligations
I am placed under by the conduct of my tenantry, but I stand
here this moment without an acre of land unlet which I wish to
let. I have not for the last five years changed two tenants
who pay me above £100 a-year, and I have not an arrear of £300
on my whole rental. That is the state of my county, so far as
I am concerned. But I look to the estate of my neighbour, of
my colleague, and of my friend, as I am proud to call him, the
Duke of Buccleuch, one of the greatest proprietors in the south
of Scotland, and one who differed from me as to the policy of
Free Trade. He has not, in Roxburghshire and Dumfries, let land
falling out of lease--and those leases are usually for nineteen
years--at any diminution of rent. A case has been mentioned,
again, of a farm in East Lothian; and I dare say some hon.
member more conversant with the details of that property than
I am will speak upon that point; but, as I am informed, the
farm in question had been previously in the hands of the owner,
and had never been let before the last letting--that it was
never calculated to be worth more than £1800 a-year--that some
speculative farmer took it at £2200--that he made an imprudent
and improvident bargain--and that a remission, therefore, has
taken place, reducing the rent below £1800 a-year, but not
much. I have friends in East Lothian, and I have made it my
business to inquire into these matters, and I am told farms
let freely as they fall out of lease, without any diminution
of rent whatever; and also I am informed that the value of
the fee-simple, which is the real test among the shrewd and
sagacious people of Scotland, has increased since the repeal of
the Corn Laws. I have said I have no farms to let; but I have
perceived that, since the repeal of the Corn Laws, there has
been a competition for land, arising among a class of persons
with whom there was formerly no desire to occupy land, while
there was the uncertainty which attended the operation of these
laws."
The natural inference from this is, that Ministers have been
entirely deceived as to the condition of the owners and occupiers of
land--that, notwithstanding the great fall of prices, agriculture is
flourishing--and that the whole of the agitation which has been got
up on the subject is no better than a gigantic imposture. We call
this "the natural inference," because such undoubtedly would be the
impression conveyed to the mind of any unprejudiced reader. It is
very much to be regretted that such statements should go forth to the
public on the authority of Sir James Graham. In so far as Scotland
is concerned, they are calculated to lead to a conclusion directly
opposite to the truth. It is always a delicate thing to allude to
individual instances; but we cannot help observing, that when Sir James
Graham cites the case of the Buccleuch property in "Roxburghshire
and Dumfries," he does not add, for the information of those who
are unacquainted with the locality, that the great bulk of these
possessions consists of sheep-farms; and it is notorious that, owing to
the price of wool, the sheep-farmers constitute the only agricultural
class which has not suffered severely from the introduction of the
Free-Trade measures. Of the Buccleuch estates in Mid-Lothian, where
the land is entirely arable, Sir James Graham makes no mention. In the
south-eastern districts of Scotland, the fall in the value of farms
has latterly been remarkable. To this point we may have occasion to
recur hereafter; for although we do not think that the letting of
particular farms is to be taken as a criterion of the general condition
of agriculture, still we are desirous that the public should know how
the case really stands. It is quite true that, until lately, instances
have occurred of farms being let without any diminution of rent; nor
is this the least surprising, considering the language which was
employed so late as last spring by Lord Lansdowne and other members
of the Government, as well as by individuals of considerable station,
influence, and intelligence, like Mr W. E. Gladstone. The whole tenor
of their addresses was calculated to persuade the farmers that the
depreciation of prices then existing was attributable to an excellent
harvest in 1849, and not at all to foreign importation. They scouted
the idea that the averages of wheat could remain permanently at or
near 40s.; and they prophesied a speedy rise. It is no great marvel
if these representations induced some people to offer for farms which
were falling out of lease. A farmer cannot, from the nature of his
profession, be idle. He must have ground whereon to place his stock,
unless he chooses to sell it off; and as the value of stock had also
greatly fallen in the spring of last year, few were willing to part
with theirs, and so virtually to abandon their profession. But it
is a gross mistake to suppose that, in the majority of cases, the
reletting of a farm in East Lothian or Roxburghshire, at the same rent
as formerly, is to be taken as evidence of continued agricultural
prosperity. During the last nineteen years, the common period of the
endurance of a lease, the land in these counties has been so much
improved by a liberal expenditure of capital, that a considerable rise
of rent was anticipated, and would have been obtained but for the
operation of the new commercial measures. Be that as it may, we are
assured by the most competent authorities, that since last harvest
there has been a general disinclination on the part of farmers to
offer for land, except at greatly reduced rates; and we have heard
of instances in which the highest offers did not reach two-thirds
of the previous rental. We are speaking just now of the best arable
land in Scotland. It is commonly and currently stated, and has never
yet been contradicted, that elsewhere the depreciation is at least
as great. Earl Grey, perhaps, may be able to afford some rather
startling instances of the decline of rents in Northumberland. In the
cattle-breeding districts of the north and Argyleshire, tenants have
almost entirely ceased offering for vacant farms. They consider their
occupation gone; and many of the best and most prudent of them are
either on their way or preparing to emigrate to America. As for the
islands, they are now no better than so many districts of pauperism.
Perhaps, however, we are attaching too much importance to this
statement by Sir James Graham. So far as we can see, he now stands
alone, a solitary believer in agricultural prosperity, whilst every
one else has admitted the distress, though differing as to the nature
of the remedy, or even denying the propriety of administering a remedy
at all. From what is passing in England, we should imagine that
the distress among the agricultural classes there is of unexampled
severity. We read in the _Times_ of 17th February--the last number
which has reached us--a curious account of the South Nottinghamshire
election, which has resulted in the return of Mr Barrow. As one
paragraph bears directly upon the point which we are now discussing,
and as it, moreover, contains a wholesome warning to such landlords
throughout the country as have chosen to stand aloof from the tenantry
during this momentous struggle, we shall here extract it.
"The result astonishes everybody, even here; and that, in the most
aristocratic county of England, with the landlords almost to a man
banded together in support of their nominee,--a scion of one of the
largest landed proprietors in the county should be defeated by a plain
country gentleman, a retired solicitor, with scarcely an acre of his
own in the county, appears truly marvellous. _It can only be accounted
for by the fact of the losses of the occupiers during the last two
years rendering them indifferent as to whether they be expelled from
their homesteads or not_; even though Mr Barrow has for many years
presided at and taken part in their farmers' clubs and other meetings,
and Lord Newark has never been seen by one elector in a thousand until
this contest."
Assuming this account to be true--for we have no other knowledge of the
case--we rejoice that the electors of Nottinghamshire have acted so
independent a part, and returned to Parliament a gentleman who has made
their grievances and condition his especial study. Such men are wanted
at the present time, and it is to such we look for the firm vindication
of the rights of an injured tenantry. But what degree of agricultural
prosperity is implied by the previous statement?
Of course it is very easy for Sir James Graham, holding such views,
to descant on the impolicy of any return to protection. If no injury
has been inflicted upon any one, and if all interests are prospering,
there certainly can exist no conceivable motives for a change. For,
not to mention the obvious difficulties which lie in the way of a
reversal of the present commercial system, what chance should we have
of persuading any one to join us in such a mad crusade, if there indeed
exist no grievances of a weighty and intolerable character? According
to Sir James Graham, the landlord is receiving the same rent as before,
the tenant is equally comfortable, the labourer much more comfortable
than he was under the system of protection--grant all this, and no
censure, no reproach, can be severe enough to stigmatise our conduct.
Unfortunately for his theory, the Knight of Netherby has to contend
against something more stubborn than arguments. Before he can establish
his conclusions, he will in the first place demonstrate that 38s., the
present average price of the quarter of wheat, is equal to 56s., the
former remunerative rate. Next, he must explain and make clear to the
comprehension of the farmer, how all public and private taxes, imposts,
and obligations, can be discharged by the same amount of produce as
formerly, that produce having fallen upwards of thirty-five per cent in
value. And lastly, rising to economics, he must show us how the home
trade can be improved by the depression of the principal customer. When
these points are satisfactorily disposed of, we promise to give in; for
why should we prolong a contest, to our own great discomfort, for no
substantial reason?
But we must now allude to a passage in the speech of Sir James Graham,
far too serious to be passed over without indignant commentary. Irish
iteration may of late years have somewhat blunted the nicer sensibility
of the ear of the House of Commons, once painfully acute to the
remotest whisper of sedition; but we certainly never expected to see
the time when such language as the following, from the lips of a Privy
Counsellor, should be allowed to pass without rebuke:--
"Now, I will not venture to make any prediction with respect
to the price of corn in future; but this, sir, I say, that, be
the price what it may, the time has arrived when it must be
left to its natural level; and that for any Government or for
any Legislature artificially, and by power of law, to enhance
it,--I say the day is past. And why do I say so? I say there
is not a ploughboy who treads the heaviest clay in England,
who does not feel practically his condition improved within
the last three years--and he knows the reason why. I tell you
there is not a shepherd on the most distant and barren hill of
Scotland, who does not now have daily a cheaper and a larger
mess of porridge than he ever had before--and he also knows the
reason why. I tell you, again, there is not a weaver in the
humblest cottage in Lancashire who has not fuller and cheaper
meals, without any fall in his wages, than he had before--and
he knows the reason why. _Now I must tell you the whole truth._
The time has arrived when the truth fully must be spoken.
_There is not a soldier who returns to England from abroad,
that does not practically feel that his daily pay is augmented,
that he has a cheaper, larger, and a better mess, and that he
enjoys greater comforts,--and he also knows the reason._ Now,
sir, I entreat my honourable friends who sit below me to be
on their guard. You may canvass the country--you may endanger
property--you may shake our institutions to the foundation,
(hear, hear, from Lord John Russell, and cheers from the
Government benches); but I am persuaded that there is no power
in England which can permanently enhance by force of law the
price of bread. Now, that is my honest and firm conviction. The
peace of this country, my own possessions, are as dear to me as
any honourable gentleman who sits on the benches below me; _but
I feel that we have arrived at the period when it is necessary
to speak the truth_, and I have spoken it without reservation."
It is much to be regretted that Sir James Graham did not choose to
speak the truth at an earlier stage of his career. Since the clatter of
the muskets of Pride's detachment of soldiery was heard in the House of
Commons, no more insolent sound has jarred on the ear of that popular
assembly than this suggestive harangue. We pass over the declamatory
passages about the ploughboy and the shepherd without comment, as mere
bombast; but Sir James Graham ought to know, and if he does not he
should be made to know, that such language as he used with respect to
the British army is not more offensive than it is greatly dangerous to
the State. Are gentlemen of the House of Commons, acting upon their own
honest convictions of what is best for the interests of the State, and
deputed by constituencies to represent their feelings and opinions, to
be threatened by a Privy-counsellor and Ex-minister with the attack of
a Prætorian guard? Anything so monstrous--so unpardonable as this, it
has never been our lot to comment upon. Not only the dignity of the
law, but the liberty of the subject, and the prerogative of the Crown,
are here passed over as matters of no account; and a presumption is
directly reared--that the soldier is a political functionary, and may
exercise his judgment as to what side he should adopt, or what course
he should pursue, in the event of any legislative enactment whatever!
Grant but that, and we are indeed on the verge of anarchy. Now, we
entreat our readers and the public to weigh well the meaning of this
language, considering the quarter from which it came. It is no trifling
matter. Those sentences were not the rapid conceptions of an orator
in the heat of debate. Their context shows that they were prepared,
studied, and committed to memory, with a serious intent and purpose;
and the sooner we understand their entire significance the better. This
gentleman, Sir James Graham, after having assumed all the postures of
the weathercock--after having looked, in the maturity of his years,
all winds of political doctrine in the face--finds himself at last in
the position of a Cabinet Minister, pledged to his constituents to
uphold a certain line of commercial policy. The head of the Cabinet,
equally, or even more, deeply pledged, wavers, turns round, belies his
former profession, and carries his colleague along with him. Having
carefully ascertained that a considerable number of the representatives
of the people, though pledged directly or indirectly to an opposite
course, are ready to obey their orders; and being thus certain of a
majority, these statesmen refuse an appeal to the country, and proceed
to obtain the sanction of the law for certain measures diametrically
opposite to the opinions which they formerly professed. They are so
far successful, that the measures are carried, but the Cabinet shortly
afterwards falls, in consequence of the treachery of its members. A
new Parliament is summoned, and the members of that Parliament are
bound, not more by pledges than by evident considerations of the public
welfare, to give a fair trial to the working of the new commercial
system. The Cabinet, and the majority of the members of Parliament,
believe in the excellence of that system: the minority do not. Time
rolls on, and the system develops itself. No attempt is made to impede
it: it is left as free as the metal is to run into the mould. But
in the course of its progress it crushes and breaks down various of
those interests which were always considered the most important in
the British commonwealth; and a cry is heard, that to persevere is
to ensure destruction. Still no attempt is made towards a retrograde
movement. The experiment was asked for--demanded--let it be seen in its
true colours. The cry, however, is not altogether without its effect.
The majority is weakened--the minority materially increased. Beyond the
walls of Parliament the ferment increases daily. The anticipations and
the prophecies of the supporters of the new system prove to be not only
inaccurate, but so wholly contrary to the real result that no one can
venture to defend them. The small party rapidly swells into importance,
because it has public opinion with it. Almost each casual election is
given in its favour. And at last the leader of that minority comes
forward and, without requiring a total change of system, requests that
Parliament should at last take into consideration the unjust, peculiar,
and unequal burden of taxation, which the most suffering interest is
still compelled to bear, notwithstanding that it has been deprived of
that position which alone could justify the imposition of peculiar
burdens. Whereupon this quondam Minister and adviser of the Crown,
avoiding the question before him, and practically denying that meed of
justice which his former colleague, the head and front of the whole
offending, had directly admitted to be due, stands up in his place,
and warns the opposite party to desist from the course which they are
pursuing; not because their case is hopeless, for he acknowledges
their power and the extent of their support; but because he foresees a
rebellion looming in the distance, with the soldiery arrayed against
them! We say deliberately, that such language as this is eminently
and grossly mischievous. It presupposes, what we certainly never
expect to see in this country, the masses of the nation and the army
drawn out, not against the House of Commons, or the House of Lords,
or the Sovereign individually, but against all these three estates in
the exercise of their undoubted functions. The Protectionists do not
propose to imitate the example of Sir James Graham and his friends, by
perverting the House of Commons against the will of the constituencies.
Even were that in their power, they would abstain from doing so, for
the nation has already suffered by far too much from the consequences
of such a total abandonment of principle. The success of the country
party depends solely upon the will of the constituencies. Nothing shall
be done illegally--nothing deceitfully. When an appeal shall be made
to the electoral body of these kingdoms, they will have it in their
power to decide, whether the nation is to persevere in a system which
has already proved so disastrous to many interests, or whether British
industry is to be again protected to the extent, at all events, of
its burdens. And if the constituencies decide in our favour, and the
two other estates of the realm act in accordance with the opinion of
the House of Commons, what is it that we have to fear? Not certainly
the dark hints and insinuations of Sir James Graham. When the two
Houses of the legislature are divided in opinion, and when neither of
them will yield, or, when the Sovereign authority is broadly opposed
to the declared will of the Commons, it is perfectly possible that a
most serious and lamentable struggle may ensue. But so long as the
three great estates act together in harmony and concord, there is no
power in the land that can set their councils at defiance. Therefore,
when Sir James Graham sketches his imaginary league of ploughboy,
shepherd, weaver, and soldier, against the resolutions of the Imperial
Parliament, he is contemplating an anomaly which never has occurred,
and which never can occur in Great Britain. Why or wherefore should we
accept his affectionate entreaty, and be on our guard? How are we to
convulse the country--endanger property--or shake our institutions to
the foundations? Are we plotting? Are we conspiring? Do we destroy the
law? Are we doing anything, or do we propose to do anything, contrary
to the spirit of the Constitution? And if not, why are these big words
thrown at our heads? We may be quite wrong in our anticipations. The
country may not accord us its support. The electors may determine that
henceforward and for ever Free Trade shall remain the sole and dominant
system. If so, we shall submit, as is our bounden duty. We shall rear
up no phantom armies, such as are said at times to be seen skirting the
hills of Cumberland, to oppose to the levies of Sir James Graham; but
whilst we are acting constitutionally and openly, let us hear no more
of such language, which is somewhat worse than offensive.
We observe from the report, that these passages in the speech of Sir
James Graham were cheered emphatically by the Premier. Indeed, in his
own address to the House, he touched upon similar topics: "I should be
most grieved if I thought the great mass of the people of this country
were induced, by the restoration of laws which enhance the price of
food, to consider that, by imitating the example of the democracies on
the Continent, they could gain any advantage which they could not now
obtain, or increase the prosperity they are deriving from the ancient
institutions of this country." We cannot of course presume to say that
we distinctly apprehend the meaning of this complicated sentence,
which we now put upon record for the benefit of future students of
composition; but it sounds very like a hint of civil insurrection. Now,
we take leave to say, once for all, that such hints and inuendoes are
excessively indecorous and improper when emanating from any Minister
of the Crown; and that Lord John Russell, in particular, considering
his antecedents, is a vast deal too fond of indulging in this sort
of dubious talk. His business and his duty is to inculcate respect
for the laws, not to contemplate their infraction. If he entertains,
as he professes to do, a deep regard for the Constitution, he should
cautiously abstain from hinting that there is a power beyond the
Constitution which may possibly be called in to control it. Certainly
we are not inclined to submit ourselves to this sort of despotism,
or to be deterred from doing our duty, and expressing our opinions,
by vague threats of future consequences. There is another passage in
Lord John Russell's speech which is open to peculiar animadversion.
He, the champion of popular opinion, deprecates any appeal to the
country on the subject of import duties, on account of the damage
which might thereby arise to trade! Does the noble lord think that the
great body of the British agriculturists now under the pressure of the
screw, and with the prospect of ruin before them, will be deterred
from prosecuting their demand for what they conceive to be their just
rights, by any such considerations as these? Are the yeomanry to suffer
themselves to be crushed and expatriated without a murmur, simply
for the sake of putting the manufacturers to no temporary or extra
inconvenience? The Premier may depend upon it that he will never save
himself in an emergency by putting forward such worthless and shallow
arguments. Why, if he, like Sir James Graham, recognises the great and
growing power of the country party, can he shut his eyes to the fact,
that that power is simply the embodiment of public opinion, without
which to back him, Mr Disraeli's speeches and motions would be as
innocuous as the sheet lightning of a summer's evening?
There are several other points arising out of this memorable debate,
to which we intended to refer had our limits permitted. We cannot,
however, avoid noticing the prosperity terms of the Royal Speech
delivered at the opening of the Session.
It is a very remarkable circumstance, that the trade and manufactures
of Great Britain, however much they may have been depressed at
different periods of the previous year, are always marvellously
resuscitated towards the opening of the Session. Thus, in December
1849, the cotton trade was, according to the confession of the
Free-Trade organs, in a very bad condition. Less business than formerly
had been done during the year; and even the _Economist_ questioned
"whether 'the power of purchase,' on the part of the British community,
is nearly equal to what it was in 1845." In February thereafter, under
the medical treatment of Ministers, all kinds of manufactures received
an amazing fillip. Mr Labouchere almost wept for joy at the amazing
prosperity of the shipowners, who, ungrateful villains as they were,
instantly and unanimously repudiated the soft impeachment. This year
there has been the same burst of sunshine precisely at the same season.
Everything is _couleur de rose_. We were exceedingly delighted to hear
it. In our ignorance we had been led to believe that the iron trade was
nearly in a state of stagnation, and the cotton-mills not remarkably
remunerative; but it appeared that we were wrong. However, a day or two
afterwards, in turning over the _Times_, we lighted upon a paragraph
which did not appear to us indicative of a high degree of prosperity in
one important branch of manufactures. It is as follows:--
"STATE OF TRADE. MANCHESTER, _Feb. 13_.--The continued decline
of cotton places our spinners and manufacturers in a very
awkward and critical position. The market appears to have lost
all confidence, for the present, in the maintenance of prices,
and heaviness and gloom are its prevailing characteristics.
There has scarcely been business enough to-day to determine
what rates would be acceded to; but there can be no doubt that,
for any considerable order, a modification of price equal to
3d. per piece on cloth on the nominal rates, or of 4½d. to
6d. on the prices of Thursday last, would be accepted. The
decline on yarn is to a proportionate extent."
Messrs Littledale's circular of 20th February is not much more
cheerful in its tone. It opens thus:--"The dulness which has pervaded
our different produce markets since the opening of the year still
continues, but with little change in prices during the last fortnight."
As regards the article of silk, we are told that--
"Since the commencement of the month, several parcels of China
raw silk have changed hands at rather lower prices than in
December last. The manufacturers, finding a great falling off
in the sale of their goods, have shown but little disposition
to purchase. This, with the announcement of the public
sales which are now in progress, has caused great dulness
throughout the manufacturing districts. East India and China
piece-goods--the demand for which has suddenly diminished; and
prices for all sorts are lower, except good and fine Corahs
(which for some months past have been very scarce.) These have
sold at previous rates; but all other descriptions have been
unsaleable."
This is at best but April prosperity--gloom and brightness,
intermingled sunshine and showers.
In a very few days we shall learn how Ministers are to meet the
opposition which the absurd and incoherent financial statement of Sir
Charles Wood has provoked. We have seen bad budgets before, but this is
incomparably the worst that was ever devised. The obnoxious and unjust
Income Tax is to be renewed, solely for the purpose of bolstering
up Free Trade, and the removal of the Window Duties is to be nearly
neutralised by the imposition of a house tax! The "happy family,"
it must be owned, have an especial talent for making themselves
universally unpopular.
The result of the division on Mr Disraeli's motion cannot fail to be
very cheering to those who look for the advent of better times, and
more enlightened legislation. It marks the progress which has been
made, even in the present Parliament, from which we had so little to
expect; and it will be our own fault if the advantage is not pursued.
We would earnestly recommend to the serious perusal and consideration
of all, but more especially the landlords of Great Britain, the
emphatic peroration of Mr Disraeli in his admirable reply:--"I
hope honourable gentlemen will not be frightened by threats, from
whatever quarter they may come. I hope there is still so much spirit
in gentlemen of the United Kingdom, that they will not be daunted
even by the mystical reference of the First Minister, or the more
authoritative, more decided threats that may reach them from any
other quarter. I hope honourable gentlemen, if they believe they are
doing their duty by supporting this motion--and let no man support it
who does not believe that he is doing his duty--will feel in future
that their part is one of more activity in defending the interests of
the tenantry of this country. This is mainly a farmers' question. No
one has met my argument about rent, which showed the fallacy of that
barbarous slang that has been too long prevalent. It is a farmers'
question. Upon the farmers the pressure for years has been too severe;
it is now increasing. From motives I call appreciate, and feelings
of delicacy I can comprehend, the owners of the soil have not stood
forward to vindicate, as they ought to have done, the interests of the
tenantry. I hope that this is the commencement of a new era in that
respect; and that no man, whether owner or occupier, will hereafter be
ashamed or afraid of asking from an English Parliament that justice to
which every English subject is entitled."
_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._
[Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]