WM. COBBETT.

RURAL RIDE, OF 104 MILES, FROM KENSINGTON TO UPHUSBAND; INCLUDING A

RUSTIC HARANGUE AT WINCHESTER, AT A DINNER WITH THE FARMERS, ON THE 28TH

SEPTEMBER.

_Chilworth, near Guildford, Surrey, Wednesday, 25th Sept., 1822._

This morning I set off, in rather a drizzling rain, from Kensington, on

horseback, accompanied by my son, with an intention of going to

Uphusband, near Andover, which is situated in the North West corner of

Hampshire. It is very true that I could have gone to Uphusband by

travelling only about 66 miles, and in the space of about eight hours.

But my object was not to see inns and turnpike-roads, but to see the

_country_; to see the farmers at home, and to see the labourers in the

fields; and to do this you must go either on foot or on horse-back. With

a gig you cannot get about amongst bye-lanes and across fields, through

bridle-ways and hunting-gates; and to _tramp it_ is too slow, leaving

the labour out of the question, and that is not a trifle.

We went through the turnpike-gate at Kensington, and immediately turned

down the lane to our left, proceeded on to Fulham, crossed Putney bridge

into Surrey, went over Barnes Common, and then, going on the upper side

of Richmond, got again into Middlesex by crossing Richmond bridge. All

Middlesex is _ugly_, notwithstanding the millions upon millions which it

is continually sucking up from the rest of the kingdom; and, though the

Thames and its meadows now-and-then are seen from the road, the country

is not less ugly from Richmond to Chertsey bridge, through Twickenham,

Hampton, Sunbury, and Sheperton, than it is elsewhere. The soil is a

gravel at bottom with a black loam at top near the Thames; further back

it is a sort of spewy gravel; and the buildings consist generally of

tax-eaters' showy, tea-garden-like boxes, and of shabby dwellings of

labouring people who, in this part of the country, look to be about half

_Saint Giles's_: dirty, and have every appearance of drinking gin.

At Chertsey, where we came into Surrey again, there was a Fair for

horses, cattle, and pigs. I did not see any sheep. Everything was

exceedingly _dull_. Cart colts, two and three years old, were selling

for _less than a third_ of what they sold for in 1813. The cattle were

of an inferior description to be sure; but the price was low almost

beyond belief. Cows, which would have sold for 15_l._ in 1813, did not

get buyers at 3_l._ I had no time to inquire much about the pigs, but a

man told me that they were dirt-cheap. Near Chertsey is _Saint Anne's

Hill_ and some other pretty spots. Upon being shown this hill I was put

in mind of Mr. Fox; and that brought into my head a grant that he

obtained of _Crown lands_ in this neighbourhood, in, I think, 1806. The

Duke of York obtained, by Act of Parliament, a much larger grant of

these lands, at Oatlands, in 1804, I think it was. But this was natural

enough; this is what would surprise nobody. Mr. Fox's was another

affair; and especially when taken into view with what I am now going to

relate. In 1804 or 1805, Fordyce, the late Duchess of Gordon's brother,

was Collector General (or had been) of taxes in Scotland, and owed a

large arrear to the public. He was also Surveyor of Crown lands. The

then Opposition were for hauling him up. Pitt was again in power. Mr.

Creevey was to bring forward the motion in the House of Commons, and Mr.

Fox was to support it, and had actually spoken once or twice, in a

preliminary way on the subject. Notice of the motion was regularly

given; it was put off from time to time, and, at last, _dropped_, Mr.

Fox _declining_ to support it. I have no books at hand; but the affair

will be found recorded in the Register. It was not owing to Mr. Creevey

that the thing did not come on. I remember well that it was owing to Mr.

Fox. Other motives were stated; and those others might be the real

motives; but, at any rate, the next year, or the year after, Mr. Fox got

transferred to him a part of that estate, which belongs to the _public_,

and which was once so great, called the _Crown lands_; and of these

lands Fordyce long had been, and then was, the Surveyor. Such are the

facts: let the reader reason upon them and draw the conclusion.

This county of Surrey presents to the eye of the traveller a greater

contrast than any other county in England. It has some of the very best

and some of the worst lands, not only in England, but in the world. We

were here upon those of the latter description. For five miles on the

road towards Guildford the land is a rascally common covered with poor

heath, except where the gravel is so near the top as not to suffer even

the heath to grow. Here we entered the enclosed lands, which have the

gravel at bottom, but a nice light, black mould at top; in which the

trees grow very well. Through bye-lanes and bridle-ways we came out into

the London road, between Ripley and Guildford, and immediately crossing

that road, came on towards a village called Merrow. We came out into the

road just mentioned, at the lodge-gates of a Mr. Weston, whose mansion

and estate have just passed (as to occupancy) into the hands of some new

man. At Merrow, where we came into the Epsom road, we found that Mr.

Webb Weston, whose mansion and park are a little further on towards

London, had just walked out, and left it in possession of another new

man. This gentleman told us, last year, at the _Epsom Meeting_, that he

was _losing his income_; and I told him _how it was_ that he was losing

it! He is said to be a very worthy man; very much respected; a very good

landlord; but, I dare say, he is one of those who approved of yeomanry

cavalry to keep down the "Jacobins and Levellers;" but who, in fact, as

I always told men of this description, have _put down_ themselves and

their landlords; for without them this thing never could have been done.

To ascribe the whole to _contrivance_ would be to give to Pitt and his

followers too much credit for profundity; but if the knaves who

assembled at the Crown and Anchor in the Strand, in 1793, to put down,

by the means of prosecutions and spies, those whom they called

"Republicans and Levellers;" if these knaves had said, "Let us go to

work to induce the owners and occupiers of the land to convey their

estates and their capital into our hands," and if the Government had

corresponded with them in views, the effect could not have been more

complete than it has, thus far, been. The yeomanry actually, as to the

effect, drew their swords to keep the reformers at bay, while the

tax-eaters were taking away the estates and the capital. It was the

sheep surrendering up the dogs into the hands of the wolves.

Lord Onslow lives near Merrow. This is the man that was, for many years,

so famous as a driver of four-in-hand. He used to be called _Tommy

Onslow_. He has the character of being a very good landlord. I know he

called me "a d----d _Jacobin_" several years ago, only, I presume,

because I was labouring to preserve to him the means of still driving

four-in-hand, while he, and others like him, and their yeomanry cavalry,

were working as hard to defeat my wishes and endeavours. They say here,

that, some little time back, his Lordship, who has, at any rate, had the

courage to retrench in all sorts of ways, was at Guildford in a gig with

one horse, at the very moment, when Spicer, the Stock-broker, who was a

Chairman of the Committee for prosecuting Lord Cochrane, and who lives

at Esher, came rattling in with four horses and a couple of out-riders!

They relate an observation made by his Lordship, which may, or may not,

be true, and which therefore, I shall not repeat. But, my Lord, there is

another sort of courage; courage other than that of retrenching, that

would become you in the present emergency: I mean _political_ courage,

and especially the courage of _acknowledging your errors_; confessing

that you were wrong when you called the reformers Jacobins and

levellers; the courage of now joining them in their efforts to save

their country, to regain their freedom, and to preserve to you your

estate, which is to be preserved, you will observe, by no other means

than that of a Reform of the Parliament. It is now manifest, even to

fools, that it has been by the instrumentality of a base and fraudulent

paper-money that loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers and Jews have got the

estates into their hands. With what eagerness, in 1797, did the

nobility, gentry, and clergy rush forward to give their sanction and

their support to the system which then began, and which has finally

produced, what we now behold! They assembled in all the counties, and

put forth declarations that they would take the paper of the Bank, and

that they would support the system. Upon this occasion the county of

Surrey was the very first county; and on the list of signatures the very

_first_ name was _Onslow_! There may be sales and conveyances; there may

be recoveries, deeds, and other parchments; but this was the real

transfer; this was the real signing away of the estates.

To come to Chilworth, which lies on the south side of St. Martha's Hill,

most people would have gone along the level road to Guildford and come

round through Shawford under the hills; but we, having seen enough of

streets and turnpikes, took across over Merrow Down, where the Guildford

race-course is, and then mounted the "Surrey Hills," so famous for the

prospects they afford. Here we looked back over Middlesex, and into

Buckinghamshire and Berkshire, away towards the North-West, into Essex

and Kent towards the East, over part of Sussex to the South, and over

part of Hampshire to the West and South-West. We are here upon a bed of

chalk, where the downs always afford good sheep food. We steered for St.

Martha's Chapel, and went round at the foot of the lofty hill on which

it stands. This brought us down the side of a steep hill, and along a

bridle-way, into the narrow and exquisitely beautiful vale of Chilworth,

where we were to stop for the night. This vale is skirted partly by

woodlands and partly by sides of hills tilled as corn fields. The land

is excellent, particularly towards the bottom. Even the arable fields

are in some places, towards their tops, nearly as steep as the roof of a

tiled house; and where the ground is covered with woods the ground is

still more steep. Down the middle of the vale there is a series of

ponds, or small _lakes_, which meet your eye, here and there, through

the trees. Here are some very fine farms, a little strip of meadows,

some hop-gardens, and the lakes have given rise to the establishment of

powder-mills and paper-mills. The trees of all sorts grow well here; and

coppices yield poles for the hop-gardens and wood to make charcoal for

the powder-mills.

They are sowing wheat here, and the land, owing to the fine summer that

we have had, is in a very fine state. The rain, too, which, yesterday,

fell here in great abundance, has been just in time to make a really

good wheat-sowing season. The turnips, all the way that we have come,

are good. Rather backward in some places; but in sufficient quantity

upon the ground, and there is yet a good while for them to grow. All the

fall fruit is excellent, and in great abundance. The grapes are as good

as those raised under glass. The apples are much richer than in ordinary

years. The crop of hops has been very fine here, as well as everywhere

else. The crop not only large, but good in quality. They expect to get

_six_ pounds a hundred for them at Weyhill fair. That is _one_ more than

I think they will get. The best Sussex hops were selling in the Borough

of Southwark at three pounds a hundred a few days before I left London.

The Farnham hops _may_ bring double that price; but that, I think, is as

much as they will; and this is ruin to the hop-planter. The _tax_, with

its attendant inconveniences, amounts to a pound a hundred; the picking,

drying, and bagging, to 50_s._ The carrying to market not less than

5_s._ Here is the sum of 3_l._ 10_s._ of the money. Supposing the crop

to be half a ton to the acre, the bare tillage will be 10_s._ The poles

for an acre cannot cost less than 2_l._ a-year; that is another 4_s._ to

each hundred of hops. This brings the outgoings to 82_s._ Then comes the

manure, then come the poor-rates, and road-rates, and county rates; and

if these leave one single farthing for _rent_ I think it is strange.

I hear that Mr. Birkbeck is expected home from America! It is said that

he is coming to receive a large legacy; a thing not to be overlooked by

a person who lives in a country where he can have _land for nothing_!

The truth is, I believe, that there has lately died a gentleman, who has

bequeathed a part of his property to pay the creditors of a relation of

his who some years ago became a bankrupt, and one of whose creditors Mr.

Birkbeck was. What the amount may be I know not; but I have heard, that

the bankrupt had a _partner_ at the time of the bankruptcy; so that

there must be a good deal of difficulty in settling the matter in an

equitable manner. The _Chancery_ would drawl it out (supposing the

present system to continue) till, in all human probability, there would

not be as much left for Mr. Birkbeck as would be required to pay his way

back again to the Land of Promise. I hope he is coming here to remain

here. He is a very clever man, though he has been very abusive and very

unjust with regard to me.

_Lea, near Godalming, Surrey, Thursday, 26 Sept._

We started from Chilworth this morning, came down the vale, left the

village of Shawford to our right, and that of Wonersh to our left, and

crossing the river Wey, got into the turnpike-road between Guildford and

Godalming, went on through Godalming, and got to Lea, which lies to the

north-east snugly under Hindhead, about 11 o'clock. This was coming only

about eight miles, a sort of rest after the 32 miles of the day before.

Coming along the road, a farmer overtook us, and as he had known me from

seeing me at the Meeting at Epsom last year, I had a part of my main

business to perform, namely, to talk politics. He was going to

_Haslemere_ fair. Upon the mention of that sink-hole of a Borough, which

sends, "_as clearly as the sun at noonday_," the celebrated Charles

Long, and the scarcely less celebrated Robert Ward, to the celebrated

House of Commons, we began to talk, as it were, spontaneously, about

Lord Lonsdale and the Lowthers. The farmer wondered why the Lowthers,

that were the owners of so many farms, should be for a system which was

so manifestly taking away the estates of the landlords and the capital

of the farmers, and giving them to Jews, loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers,

placemen, pensioners, sinecure people, and people of the "dead weight."

But his wonder ceased; his eyes were opened; and "his heart seemed to

burn within him as I talked to him on the way," when I explained to him

the nature of _Crown lands_ and "_Crown tenants_," and when I described

to him certain districts of property in Westmoreland and other parts. I

had not the book in my pocket, but my memory furnished me with quite a

sufficiency of matter to make him perceive that, in supporting the

present system, the Lowthers were by no means so foolish as he appeared

to think them. From the Lowthers I turned to Mr. Poyntz, who lives at

Midhurst in Sussex, and whose name as a "_Crown tenant_" I find in a

Report lately laid before the House of Commons, and the particulars of

which I will state another time for the information of the people of

Sussex. I used to wonder myself what made Mr. Poyntz call me a Jacobin.

I used to think that Mr. Poyntz must be a fool to support the present

system. What I have seen in that Report convinces me that Mr. Poyntz is

no fool, as far as relates to his own interest, at any rate. There is a

mine of wealth in these "_Crown lands_." Here are farms, and manors, and

mines, and woods, and forests, and houses, and streets, incalculable in

value. What can be so proper as to apply this public property towards

the discharge of a part, at least, of that public debt, which is

hanging round the neck of this nation like a mill-stone? Mr. Ricardo

proposes to seize upon a part of the private property of every man, to

be given to the stock-jobbing race. At an act of injustice like this the

mind revolts. The foolishness of it, besides, is calculated to shock

one. But in the _public property_ we see the suitable thing. And who can

possibly object to this, except those, who, amongst them, now divide the

possession or benefit of this property? I have once before mentioned,

but I will repeat it, that _Marlborough House_ in Pall Mall, for which

the Prince of Saxe Coburg pays a rent to the Duke of Marlborough of

three thousand pounds a-year, is rented of this generous public by that

most Noble Duke at the rate of less than _forty pounds_ a-year. There

are three houses in Pall Mall, the whole of which pay a rent _to the

public_ of about fifteen pounds a-year, I think it is. I myself,

twenty-two years ago, paid three hundred pounds a-year for one of them,

to a man that I thought was the owner of them; but I now find that these

houses belong to the public. The Duke of Buckingham's house in Pall

Mall, which is one of the grandest in all London, and which is not worth

less than seven or eight hundred pounds a-year, belongs to the public.

The Duke is the tenant; and I think he pays for it much less than twenty

pounds a-year. I speak from memory here all the way along; and therefore

not positively; I will, another time, state the particulars from the

books. The book that I am now referring to is also of a date of some

years back; but I will mention all the particulars another time. Talk of

_reducing rents_, indeed! Talk of _generous landlords_! It is the public

that is the generous landlord. It is the public that lets its houses and

manors and mines and farms at a cheap rate. It certainly would not be so

good a landlord if it had a Reformed Parliament to manage its affairs,

nor would it suffer so many snug _Corporations_ to carry on their

snugglings in the manner that they do, and therefore it is obviously the

interest of the rich tenants of this poor public, as well as the

interest of the snugglers in Corporations, to prevent the poor public

from having such a Parliament.

We got into free-quarter again at Lea; and there is nothing like

free-quarter, as soldiers well know. Lea is situated on the edge of that

immense heath which sweeps down from the summit of Hindhead across to

the north over innumerable hills of minor altitude and of an infinite

variety of shapes towards Farnham, to the north-east, towards the Hog's

Back, leading from Farnham to Guildford, and to the east, or nearly so,

towards Godalming. Nevertheless, the enclosed lands at Lea are very good

and singularly beautiful. The timber of all sorts grows well; the land

is light, and being free from stones, very pleasant to work. If you go

southward from Lea about a mile you get down into what is called, in the

old Acts of Parliament, the _Weald_ of Surrey. Here the land is a stiff

tenacious loam at top with blue and yellow clay beneath. This Weald

continues on eastward, and gets into Sussex near East Grinstead: thence

it winds about under the hills, into Kent. Here the oak grows finer than

in any part of England. The trees are more spiral in their form. They

grow much faster than upon any other land. Yet the timber must be

better; for, in some of the Acts of Queen Elizabeth's reign, it is

provided, that the oak for the Royal Navy shall come out of the Wealds

of Surrey, Sussex, or Kent.

_Odiham, Hampshire, Friday, 27 Sept._

From Lea we set off this morning about six o'clock to get free-quarter

again at a worthy old friend's at this nice little plain market-town.

Our direct road was right over the heath through Tilford to Farnham; but

we veered a little to the left after we came to Tilford, at which place

on the Green we stopped to look at an _oak tree_, which, when I was a

little boy, was but a very little tree, comparatively, and which is now,

take it altogether, by far the finest tree that I ever saw in my life.

The stem or shaft is short; that is to say, it is short before you come

to the first limbs; but it is full _thirty feet round_, at about eight

or ten feet from the ground. Out of the stem there come not less than

fifteen or sixteen limbs, many of which are from five to ten feet round,

and each of which would, in fact, be considered a decent stick of

timber. I am not judge enough of timber to say anything about the

quantity in the whole tree, but my son stepped the ground, and as nearly

as we could judge, the diameter of the extent of the branches was

upwards of ninety feet, which would make a circumference of about three

hundred feet. The tree is in full growth at this moment. There is a

little hole in one of the limbs; but with that exception, there appears

not the smallest sign of decay. The tree has made great shoots in all

parts of it this last summer and spring; and there are no appearances of

_white_ upon the trunk, such as are regarded as the symptoms of full

growth. There are many sorts of oak in England; two very distinct; one

with a pale leaf, and one with a dark leaf: this is of the pale leaf.

The tree stands upon Tilford-green, the soil of which is a light loam

with a hard sand stone a good way beneath, and, probably, clay beneath

that. The spot where the tree stands is about a hundred and twenty feet

from the edge of a little river, and the ground on which it stands may

be about ten feet higher than the bed of that river.

In quitting Tilford we came on to the land belonging to Waverly Abbey,

and then, instead of going on to the town of Farnham, veered away to the

left towards Wrecklesham, in order to cross the Farnham and Alton

turnpike-road, and to come on by the side of Crondall to Odiham. We went

a little out of the way to go to a place called the _Bourn_, which lies

in the heath at about a mile from Farnham. It is a winding narrow

valley, down which, during the wet season of the year, there runs a

stream beginning at the _Holt Forest_, and emptying itself into the

_Wey_ just below Moor-Park, which was the seat of Sir William Temple

when Swift was residing with him. We went to this Bourn in order that I

might show my son the spot where I received the rudiments of my

education. There is a little hop-garden in which I used to work when

from eight to ten years old; from which I have scores of times run to

follow the hounds, leaving the hoe to do the best that it could to

destroy the weeds; but the most interesting thing was a _sand-hill_,

which goes from a part of the heath down to the rivulet. As a due

mixture of pleasure with toil, I, with two brothers, used occasionally

to _desport_ ourselves, as the lawyers call it, at this sand-hill. Our

diversion was this: we used to go to the top of the hill, which was

steeper than the roof of a house; one used to draw his arms out of the

sleeves of his smock-frock, and lay himself down with his arms by his

sides; and then the others, one at head and the other at feet, sent him

rolling down the hill like a barrel or a log of wood. By the time he got

to the bottom, his hair, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, were all full of

this loose sand; then the others took their turn, and at every roll

there was a monstrous spell of laughter. I had often told my sons of

this while they were very little, and I now took one of them to see the

spot. But that was not all. This was the spot where I was receiving my

_education_; and this was the sort of education; and I am perfectly

satisfied that if I had not received such an education, or something

very much like it; that, if I had been brought up a milksop, with a

nursery-maid everlastingly at my heels, I should have been at this day

as great a fool, as inefficient a mortal, as any of those frivolous

idiots that are turned out from Winchester and Westminster Schools, or

from any of those dens of dunces called Colleges and Universities. It is

impossible to say how much I owe to that sand-hill; and I went to return

it my thanks for the ability which it probably gave me to be one of the

greatest terrors, to one of the greatest and most powerful bodies of

knaves and fools, that ever were permitted to afflict this or any other

country.

From the Bourn we proceeded on to Wrecklesham, at the end of which we

crossed what is called the river Wey. Here we found a parcel of

labourers at parish-work. Amongst them was an old playmate of mine. The

account they gave of their situation was very dismal. The harvest was

over early. The hop-picking is now over; and now they are employed _by

the Parish_; that is to say, not absolutely digging holes one day and

filling them up the next; but at the expense of half-ruined farmers and

tradesmen and landlords, to break stones into very small pieces to make

nice smooth roads lest the jolting, in going along them, should create

bile in the stomachs of the overfed tax-eaters. I call upon mankind to

witness this scene; and to say, whether ever the like of this was heard

of before. It is a state of things, where all is out of order; where

self-preservation, that great law of nature, seems to be set at

defiance; for here are farmers _unable_ to pay men for working for them,

and yet compelled to pay them for working in doing that which is really

of no use to any human being. There lie the hop-poles unstripped. You

see a hundred things in the neighbouring fields that want doing. The

fences are not nearly what they ought to be. The very meadows, to our

right and our left in crossing this little valley, would occupy these

men advantageously until the setting in of the frost; and here are they,

not, as I said before, actually digging holes one day and filling them

up the next; but, to all intents and purposes, as uselessly employed. Is

this Mr. Canning's "_Sun of Prosperity_?" Is this the way to increase or

preserve a nation's wealth? Is this a sign of wise legislation and of

good government? Does this thing "work well," Mr. Canning? Does it prove

that we want no change? True, you were born under a Kingly Government;

and so was I as well as you; but I was not born under _Six-Acts_; nor

was I born under a state of things like this. I was not born under it,

and I do not wish to live under it; and, with God's help, I will change

it if I can.

We left these poor fellows, after having given them, not "religious

Tracts," which would, if they could, make the labourer content with half

starvation, but something to get them some bread and cheese and beer,

being firmly convinced that it is the body that wants filling and not

the mind. However, in speaking of their low wages, I told them that the

farmers and hop-planters were as much objects of compassion as

themselves, which they acknowledged.

We immediately, alter this, crossed the road, and went on towards

Crondall upon a soil that soon became stiff loam and flint at top with a

bed of chalk beneath. We did not go to Crondall; but kept along over

Slade Heath, and through a very pretty place called Well. We arrived at

Odiham about half after eleven, at the end of a beautiful ride of about

seventeen miles, in a very fine and pleasant day.

_Winchester, Saturday, 28th September._

Just after daylight we started for this place. By the turnpike we could

have come through Basingstoke by turning off to the right, or through

Alton and Alresford by turning off to the left. Being naturally disposed

towards a middle course, we chose to wind down through Upton-Gray,

Preston-Candover, Chilton-Candover, Brown-Candover, then down to

Ovington, and into Winchester by the north entrance. From Wrecklesham to

Winchester we have come over roads and lanes of flint and chalk. The

weather being dry again, the ground under you, as solid as iron, makes a

great rattling with the horses' feet. The country where the soil is

stiff loam upon chalk is never bad for corn. Not rich, but never poor.

There is at no time anything deserving to be called dirt in the roads.

The buildings last a long time, from the absence of fogs and also the

absence of humidity in the ground. The absence of dirt makes the people

habitually cleanly; and all along through this country the people appear

in general to be very neat. It is a country for sheep, which are always

sound and good upon this iron soil. The trees grow well, where there are

trees. The woods and coppices are not numerous; but they are good,

particularly the ash, which always grows well upon the chalk. The oaks,

though they do not grow in the spiral form, as upon the clays, are by no

means stunted; and some of them very fine trees; I take it that they

require a much greater number of years to bring them to perfection than

in the _Wealds_. The wood, perhaps, may be harder; but I have heard that

the oak, which grows upon these hard bottoms, is very frequently what

the carpenters call _shaky_. The underwoods here consist, almost

entirely, of hazle, which is very fine, and much tougher and more

durable than that which grows on soils with a moist bottom. This hazle

is a thing of great utility here. It furnishes rods wherewith to make

fences; but its principal use is, to make _wattles_ for the folding of

sheep in the fields. These things are made much more neatly here than in

the south of Hampshire and in Sussex, or in any other part that I have

seen. Chalk is the favourite soil of the _yew-tree_; and at

Preston-Candover there is an avenue of yew-trees, probably a mile long,

each tree containing, as nearly as I can guess, from twelve to twenty

feet of timber, which, as the reader knows, implies a tree of

considerable size. They have probably been a century or two in growing;

but, in any way that timber can be used, the timber of the yew will

last, perhaps, ten times as long as the timber of any other tree that we

grow in England.

Quitting the Candovers, we came along between the two estates of the two

Barings. Sir Thomas, who has supplanted the Duke of Bedford, was to our

right, while Alexander, who has supplanted Lord Northington, was on our

left. The latter has enclosed, as a sort of outwork to his park, a

pretty little down called Northington Down, in which he has planted,

here and there, a clump of trees. But Mr. Baring, not reflecting that

woods are not like funds, to be made at a heat, has planted his trees

_too large_; so that they are covered with moss, are dying at the top,

and are literally growing downward instead of upward. In short, this

enclosure and plantation have totally destroyed the beauty of this part

of the estate. The down, which was before very beautiful, and formed a

sort of _glacis_ up to the park pales, is now a marred, ragged,

ugly-looking thing. The dying trees, which have been planted long enough

for you not to perceive that they have been planted, excite the idea of

sterility in the soil. They do injustice to it; for, as a down, it was

excellent. Everything that has been done here is to the injury of the

estate, and discovers a most shocking want of taste in the projector.

Sir Thomas's plantations, or, rather, those of his father, have been

managed more judiciously.

I do not like to be a sort of spy in a man's neighbourhood; but I will

tell Sir Thomas Baring what I have heard; and if he be a man of sense I

shall have his thanks, rather than his reproaches, for so doing. I may

have been misinformed; but this is what I have heard, that he, and also

Lady Baring, are very charitable; that they are very kind and

compassionate to their poor neighbours; but that they tack a sort of

condition to this charity; that they insist upon the objects of it

adopting their notions with regard to religion; or, at least, that where

the people are not what they deem _pious_, they are not objects of their

benevolence. I do not say, that they are not perfectly sincere

themselves, and that their wishes are not the best that can possibly be;

but of this I am very certain, that, by pursuing this principle of

action, where they make one good man or woman, they will make one

hundred hypocrites. It is not little books that can make a people good;

that can make them moral; that can restrain them from committing crimes.

I believe that books of any sort never yet had that tendency. Sir Thomas

does, I dare say, think me a very wicked man, since I aim at the

destruction of the funding system, and what he would call a robbery of

what he calls the public creditor; and yet, God help me, I have read

books enough, and amongst the rest, a great part of the religious

tracts. Amongst the labouring people, the first thing you have to look

after is, _common honesty_, _speaking the truth_, and _refraining from

thieving_; and to secure these, the labourer must have _his belly-full_

and be _free from fear_; and this belly-full must come to him from out

of his _wages_, and not from benevolence of any description. Such being

my opinion, I think Sir Thomas Baring would do better, that he would

discover more real benevolence, by using the influence which he must

naturally have in his neighbourhood, to prevent a diminution in the

wages of labour.

_Winchester, Sunday Morning, 29 Sept._

Yesterday was market-day here. Everything cheap and falling instead of

rising. If it were _over-production_ last year that produced the

_distress_, when are our miseries to have an end! They will end when

these men cease to have sway, and not before.

I had not been in Winchester long before I heard something very

interesting about the _manifesto_, concerning the poor, which was lately

issued here, and upon which I remarked in my last Register but one, in

my Letter to Sir Thomas Baring. Proceeding upon the true military

principle, I looked out for free-quarter, which the reader will

naturally think difficult for _me_ to find in a town containing a

_Cathedral_. Having done this, I went to the Swan Inn to dine with the

farmers. This is the manner that I like best of doing the thing.

_Six-Acts_ do not, to be sure, prevent us from _dining_ together. They

do not authorize Justices of the Peace to kill us, because we meet to

dine without their permission. But I do not like Dinner-Meetings on _my_

account. I like much better to go and fall in with the lads of the land,

or with anybody else, at their own places of resort; and I am going to

place myself down at Uphusband, in excellent free-quarter, in the midst

of all the great fairs of the West, in order, before the winter campaign

begins, that I may see as many farmers as possible, and that they may

hear my opinions, and I theirs. I shall be at Weyhill fair on the 10th

of October, and, perhaps, on some of the succeeding days; and, on one or

more of those days, I intend to dine at the White Hart, at Andover. What

other fairs or places I shall go to I shall notify hereafter. And this I

think the frankest and fairest way. I wish to see many people, and to

talk to them: and there are a great many people who wish to see and to

talk to me. What better reason can be given for a man's going about the

country and dining at fairs and markets?

At the dinner at Winchester we had a good number of opulent yeomen, and

many gentlemen joined us after the dinner. The state of the country was

well talked over; and, during the _session_ (much more sensible than

some other _sessions_ that I have had to remark on), I made the

following

_RUSTIC HARANGUE._

GENTLEMEN,--Though many here are, I am sure, glad to _see me_, I am not

vain enough to suppose that anything other than that of wishing to hear

my opinions on the prospects before us can have induced many to choose

to be here to dine with me to-day. I shall, before I sit down, propose

to you a _toast_, which you will drink, or not, as you choose: but I

shall state one particular wish in that shape, that it may be the more

distinctly understood, and the better remembered.

The wish to which I allude relates to the _tithes_. Under that word I

mean to speak of all that mass of wealth which is vulgarly called

_Church property_: but which is, in fact, _public property_, and may, of

course, be disposed of as the Parliament shall please. There appears at

this moment an uncommon degree of anxiety on the part of the parsons to

see the farmers enabled to pay _rents_. The business of the parsons

being only with _tithes_, one naturally, at first sight, wonders why

they should care so much about _rents_. The fact is this: they see

clearly enough, that the landlords will never long go without rents, and

suffer them to enjoy the tithes. They see, too, that there must be a

struggle between the _land_ and the _funds_: they see that there is such

a struggle. They see, that it is the taxes that are taking away the rent

of the landlord and the capital of the farmer. Yet the parsons are

afraid to see the taxes reduced. Why? Because, if the taxes be reduced

in any great degree (and nothing short of a great degree will give

relief), they see that the interest of the Debt cannot be paid; and they

know well, that the interest of the Debt can never be reduced, until

their tithes have been reduced. Thus, then, they find themselves in a

great difficulty. They wish the taxes to be kept up and rents to be paid

too. Both cannot be, unless some means or other be found out of putting

into, or keeping in, the farmer's pocket, money that is not now there.

The scheme that appears to have been fallen upon for this purpose is the

strangest in the world, and it must, if attempted to be put into

execution, produce something little short of open and general commotion;

namely, that of reducing the wages of labour to a mark so low as to make

the labourer a walking skeleton. Before I proceed further, it is right

that I communicate to you an explanation, which, not an hour ago, I

received from Mr. Poulter, relative to the _manifesto_, lately issued in

this town by a Bench of Magistrates of which that gentleman was

Chairman. I have not the honour to be personally acquainted with Mr.

Poulter, but certainly, if I had misunderstood the manifesto, it was

right that I should be, if possible, made to understand it. Mr. Poulter,

in company with another gentleman, came to me in this Inn, and said,

that the bench did not mean that their resolutions should have the

effect of _lowering the wages_: and that the sums, stated in the paper,

were sums to be given in the way of _relief_. We had not the paper

before us, and, as the paper contained a good deal about relief, I, in

recollection, confounded the two, and said, that I had understood the

paper agreeably to the explanation. But upon looking at the paper again,

I see, that, as to the _words_, there was a clear recommendation to make

the _wages_ what is there stated. However, seeing that the Chairman

himself disavows this, we must conclude that the bench put forth words

not expressing their meaning. To this I must add, as connected with the

manifesto, that it is stated in that document, that such and such

justices were present, and a large and respectable number of yeomen who

had been invited to attend. Now, Gentlemen, I was, I must confess,

struck with this addition to the bench. These gentlemen have not been

accustomed to treat farmers with so much attention. It seemed odd, that

they should want a set of farmers to be present, to give a sort of

sanction to their acts. Since my arrival in Winchester, I have found,

however, that having them present was not all; for that the names of

some of these yeomen were actually inserted in the manuscript of the

manifesto, and that those names were expunged _at the request of the

parties named_. This is a very singular proceeding, then, altogether. It

presents to us a strong picture of the diffidence, or modesty (call it

which you please) of the justices; and it shows us, that the yeomen

present did not like to have _their names_ standing as giving sanction

to the resolutions contained in the manifesto. Indeed, they knew well,

that those resolutions never could be acted upon. They knew that they

could not live in safety even in the same village with labourers, paid

at the rate of 3, 4, and 5 shillings a-week.

To return, now, Gentlemen, to the scheme for squeezing rents out of the

bones of the labourer, is it not, upon the face of it, most monstrously

absurd, that this scheme should be resorted to, when the plain and easy

and just way of insuring rents must present itself to every eye, and can

be pursued by the Parliament whenever it choose? We hear loud outcries

against the poor-rates; the _enormous_ poor-rates; the _all-devouring_

poor-rates; but what are the facts? Why, that, in Great Britain, _six

millions_ are paid in poor-rates, _seven millions_ (or thereabouts) in

_tithes_, and _sixty millions_ to the fund-people, the army, placemen,

and the rest. And yet nothing of all this seems to be thought of but the

_six_ millions. Surely the other and so much larger sums might to be

thought of. Even the _six_ millions are, for the far greater part,

_wages_ and not poor-rates. And yet all this outcry is made about these

_six_ millions, while not a word is said about the other _sixty-seven_

millions.

Gentlemen, to enumerate all the ways, in which the public money is

spent, would take me a week. I will mention two classes of persons who

are receivers of taxes: and you will then see with what _reason_ it is,

that this outcry is set up against the poor-rates and against the amount

of wages. There is a thing called the _Dead Weight_. Incredible as it

may seem, that such a vulgar appellation should be used in such a way

and by such persons, it is a fact, that the Ministers have laid before

the Parliament an account, called the account of the _Dead Weight_. This

account tells how five millions three hundred thousand pounds are

distributed annually amongst half-pay officers, pensioners, retired

commissaries, clerks, and so forth, employed during the last war. If

there were nothing more entailed upon us by that war, this is pretty

smart-money. Now unjust, unnecessary as that war was, detestable as it

was in all its principles and objects, still, to every man, who really

did _fight_, or who performed a soldier's duty abroad, I would give

_something_: he should not be left destitute. But, Gentlemen, is it

right for the nation to keep on paying for life crowds of young fellows

such as make up the greater part of this _dead weight_? This is not all,

however, for, there are the widows and the children, who have, and are

to have, _pensions too_. You seem surprised, and well you may; but this

is the fact. A young fellow who has a pension for life, aye, or an old

fellow either, will easily get a wife to enjoy it with him, and he will,

I'll warrant him, take care that _she_ shall not be _old_. So that here

is absolutely a premium for entering into the holy state of matrimony.

The husband, you will perceive, cannot prevent the wife from having the

pension after his death. She is _our widow_, in this respect, not his.

She marries, in fact, with a jointure settled on her. The more children

the husband leaves the better for the widow; for each child has a

pension for a certain number of years. The man, who, under such

circumstances, does not marry, must be a woman-hater. An old man

actually going into the grave, may, by the mere ceremony of marriage,

give any woman a pension for life. Even the widows and children of

insane officers are not excluded. If an officer, now insane, but at

large, were to marry, there is nothing, as the thing now stands, to

prevent his widow and children from having pensions. Were such things as

these ever before heard of in the world? Were such premiums ever before

given for breeding gentlemen and ladies, and that, too, while all sorts

of projects are on foot to check the breeding of the labouring classes?

Can such a thing _go on_? I say it cannot; and, if it could, it must

inevitably render this country the most contemptible upon the face of

the earth. And yet, not a word of complaint is heard about these five

millions and a quarter, expended in this way, while the country rings,

fairly resounds, with the outcry about the six millions that are given

to the labourers in the shape of poor-rates, but which, in fact, go, for

the greater part, to pay what ought to be called _wages_. Unless, then,

we speak out here; unless we call for redress here; unless we here seek

relief, we shall not only be totally ruined, but we shall _deserve it_.

The other class of persons, to whom I have alluded, as having taxes

bestowed on them, are the _poor clergy_. Not of the _church_ as by _law_

established, to be sure, you will say! Yes, Gentlemen, even to the poor

clergy of the established Church. We know well how _rich_ that Church

is; we know well how many millions it annually receives; we know how

opulent are the bishops, how rich they die; how rich, in short, a body

it is. And yet _fifteen hundred thousand pounds_ have, within the same

number of years, been given, out of the taxes, partly raised on the

labourers, for the relief of the _poor_ clergy of that Church, while it

is notorious that the livings are given in numerous cases by twos and

threes to the same person, and while a clamour, enough to make the sky

ring, is made about what is given in the shape of _relief to the

labouring classes_! Why, Gentlemen, what do we want more than this one

fact? Does not this one fact sufficiently characterize the system under

which we live? Does not this prove that a change, a great change, is

wanted? Would it not be more natural to propose to get this money back

from the Church, than to squeeze so much out of the bones of the

labourers? This the Parliament can do if it pleases; and this it will

do, if you do your duty.

Passing over several other topics, let me, Gentlemen, now come to what,

at the present moment, most nearly affects you; namely, the _prospect as

to prices_. In the first place, this depends upon whether Peel's Bill

will be repealed. As this depends a good deal upon the Ministers, and as

I am convinced, that they know no more what to do in the present

emergency than the little boys and girls that are running up and down

the street before this house, it is impossible for me, or for any one,

to say what will be done in this respect. But my opinion is decided,

that the Bill will _not_ be repealed. The Ministers see, that, if they

were _now_ to go back to the paper, it would not be the paper of 1819;

but a paper never to be redeemed by gold; that it would be _assignats_

to all intents and purposes. That must of necessity cause the complete

overthrow of the Government in a very short time. If, therefore, the

Ministers see the thing in this light, it is impossible, that they

should think of a repeal of Peel's Bill. There appeared, last winter, a

strong disposition to repeal the Bill; and I verily believe, that a

repeal in effect, though not in name, was actually in contemplation. A

Bill was brought in, which was described beforehand as intended to

prolong the issue of small notes, and also to prolong the time for

making Bank of England notes a legal tender. This would have been a

repealing of Peel's Bill in great part. The Bill, when brought in, and

when passed, as it finally was, contained no clause relative to legal

tender; and without that clause it was perfectly nugatory. Let me

explain to you, Gentlemen, what this Bill really is. In the seventeenth

year of the late King's reign, an act was passed for a time limited, to

prevent the issue of notes payable to bearer on demand, for any sums

less than five pounds. In the twenty-seventh year of the late King's

reign, this Act was made _perpetual_; and the preamble of the Act sets

forth, that it is made perpetual, because the _preventing of small notes

being made has been proved to be for the good of the nation_.

Nevertheless, in just ten years afterwards; that is to say, in the year

one thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven, when the Bank stopped

payment, this salutary Act was _suspended_; indeed, it was absolutely

necessary, for there was no gold to pay with. It continued suspended

until 1819, when Mr. Peel's Bill was passed, when a Bill was passed to

suspend it still further, until the year 1825. You will observe, then,

that, last winter there were yet three years to come, during which the

banks might make small notes if they would. Yet this new Bill was passed

last winter to authorize them to make small notes until the year 1833.

The measure was wholly uncalled for. It appeared to be altogether

unnecessary; but, as I have just said, the intention was to introduce

into this Bill a clause to continue the _legal tender_ until 1833; and

that would, indeed, have made a great alteration in the state of things;

and, if extended to the Bank of England, would have been, in effect, a

complete repeal of Peel's Bill.

It was fully expected by the country bankers, that the legal tender

clause would have been inserted; but, before it came to the trial, the

Ministers gave way, and the clause was not inserted. The reason for

their giving way, I do verily believe, had its principal foundation in

their perceiving, that the public would clearly see, that such a

measure would make the paper-money merely assignats. The legal tender

not having been enacted, the Small-note Bill can do nothing towards

augmenting the quantity of circulating medium. As the law now stands,

Bank of England notes are, in effect, a _legal tender_. If I owe a debt

of twenty pounds, and tender Bank of England notes in payment, the law

says that you shall not arrest me; that you may bring your action, if

you like; that I may pay the notes into Court; that you may go on with

your action; that you shall pay all the costs, and I none. At last you

gain your action; you obtain judgment and execution, or whatever else

the everlasting law allows of. And what have you got then? Why the

_notes_; the same identical notes the Sheriff will bring you. You will

not take them. Go to law with the Sheriff then. He pays the _notes_ into

Court. More costs for you to pay. And thus you go on; but without ever

touching or seeing gold!

Now, Gentlemen, Peel's Bill puts an end to all this pretty work on the

first day of next May. If you have a handful of a country banker's rags

_now_, and go to him for payment, he will tender you Bank of England

notes; and if you like the paying of costs you may go to law for gold.

But when the first of next May comes, he must put gold into your hands

in exchange for your notes, if you choose it; or you may clap a

bailiff's hand upon his shoulder: and if he choose to pay into Court, he

must pay in gold, and pay your costs also as far as you have gone.

This makes a strange alteration in the thing! And everybody must see,

that the Bank of England, and the country bankers; that all, in short,

are preparing for the first of May. It is clear that there must be a

farther diminution of the paper-money. It is hard to say the precise

degree of effect that this will have upon prices; but that it must bring

them down is clear; and, for my own part, I am fully persuaded, that

they will come down to the standard of prices in France, be those prices

what they may. This, indeed, was acknowledged by Mr. Huskisson in the

Agricultural Report of 1821. That two countries so near together, both

having gold as a currency or standard, should differ very widely from

each other, in the prices of farm-produce, is next to impossible; and

therefore, when our legal tender shall be completely done away, to the

prices of France you must come; and those prices cannot, I think, in the

present state of Europe, much exceed three or four shillings a bushel

for good wheat.

You know, as well as I do, that it is impossible, with the present taxes

and rates and tithes, to pay any rent at all with prices upon that

scale. Let loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers, Jews, and the whole tribe of

tax-eaters say what they will, you know that it is impossible, as you

also know it would be cruelly unjust to wring from the labourer the

means of paying rent, while those taxes and tithes remain. Something

must be taken off. The labourers' wages have already been reduced as low

as possible. All public pay and salaries ought to be reduced; and the

tithes also ought to be reduced, as they might be to a great amount

without any injury to religion. The interest of the debt ought to be

largely reduced; but, as none of the others can, with any show of

justice, take place, without a reduction of the tithes, and as I am for

confining myself to one object at present, I will give you as a Toast,

leaving you to drink it or not, as you please, _A large Reduction of

Tithes_.

* * * * *

Somebody proposed to drink this Toast with _three times three_, which

was accordingly done, and the sound might have been heard down to the

close.--Upon some Gentleman giving _my health_, I took occasion to

remind the company that the last time I was at Winchester we had the

memorable fight with Lockhart "the Brave" and his sable friends. I

reminded them that it was in that same room that I told them that it

would not be long before Mr. Lockhart and those sable gentlemen would

become enlightened; and I observed that, if we were to judge from a

man's language, there was not a land-owner in England that more keenly

felt than Mr. Lockhart the truth of those predictions which I had put

forth at the Castle on the day alluded to. I reminded the company that I

sailed for America in a few days after that meeting; that they must be

well aware that, on the day of the meeting, I knew that I was taking

leave of the country, but, I observed, that I had not been in the least

depressed by that circumstance; because I relied, with perfect

confidence, on being in this same place again, to enjoy, as I now did, a

triumph over my adversaries.

After this, Mr. Hector gave a _Constitutional Reform in the Commons'

House of Parliament_, which was drunk with great enthusiasm; and Mr.

Hector's health having been given, he, in returning thanks, urged his

brother yeomen and freeholders to do their duty by coming forward in

county meeting and giving their support to those noblemen and gentlemen

that were willing to stand forward for a reform and for a reduction of

taxation. I held forth to them the example of the county of Kent, which

had done itself so much honour by its conduct last spring. What these

gentlemen in Hampshire will do it is not for me to say. If nothing be

done by them, they will certainly be ruined, and that ruin they will

certainly deserve. It was to the farmers that the Government owed its

strength to carry on the war. Having them with it, in consequence of a

false and bloated prosperity, it cared not a straw for anybody else. If

they, therefore, now do their duty; if they all, like the yeomen and

farmers of Kent, come boldly forward, everything will be done necessary

to preserve themselves and their country; and if they do not come

forward, they will, as men of property, be swept from the face of the

earth. The noblemen and gentlemen who are in Parliament, and who are

disposed to adopt measures of effectual relief, cannot move with any

hope of success unless backed by the yeomen and farmers, and the

middling classes throughout the country generally. I do not mean to

confine myself to yeomen and farmers, but to take in all tradesmen and

men of property. With these at their back, or rather, at the back of

these, there are men enough in both Houses of Parliament to propose and

to urge measures suitable to the exigency of the case. But without the

middling classes to _take the lead_, those noblemen and gentlemen can do

nothing. Even the Ministers themselves, if they were so disposed (and

they must be so disposed at last) could make none of the reforms that

are necessary, _without being actually urged on by the middle classes of

the community_. This is a very important consideration. A new man, as

Minister, might indeed propose the reforms himself; but these men,

Opposition as well as Ministry, are so _pledged_ to the things that have

brought all this ruin upon the country, that they absolutely stand in

need of an overpowering call from the people to justify them in doing

that which they themselves may think just, and which they may know to be

necessary for the salvation of the country. They dare not take the lead

in the necessary reforms. It is too much to be expected of any men upon

the face of the earth, pledged and situated as these Ministers are; and

therefore, unless the people will do their duty, they will have

themselves, and only themselves, to thank for their ruin, and for that

load of disgrace, and for that insignificance worse than disgrace which

seems, after so many years of renown, to be attaching themselves to the

name of England.

_Uphusband, Sunday Evening, 29 Sept. 1822._

We came along the turnpike-road, through Wherwell and Andover, and got

to this place about 2 o'clock. This country, except at the village and

town just mentioned, is very open, a thinnish soil upon a bed of chalk.

Between Winchester and Wherwell we came by some hundreds of acres of

ground that was formerly most beautiful down, which was broken up in

dear-corn times, and which is now a district of thistles and other

weeds. If I had such land as this I would soon make it down again. I

would for once (that is to say if I had the money) get it quite clean,

prepare it as for sowing turnips, get the turnips if possible, feed them

off early, or plough the ground if I got no turnips; sow thick with

Saint-foin and meadow-grass seeds of all sorts, early in September; let

the crop stand till the next July; feed it then slenderly with sheep,

and dig up all thistles and rank weeds that might appear; keep feeding

it, but not too close, during the summer and the fall; and keep on

feeding it for ever after as a down. The Saint-foin itself would last

for many years; and as it disappeared, its place would be supplied by

the grass; that sort which was most congenial to the soil, would at last

stifle all other sorts, and the land would become a valuable down as

formerly.

I see that some plantations of ash and of hazle have been made along

here; but, with great submission to the planters, I think they have gone

the wrong way to work, as to the mode of preparing the ground. They have

planted _small trees_, and that is right; they have _trenched_ the

ground, and that is also right; but they have brought the bottom soil to

the top; and that is _wrong_, always; and especially where the bottom

soil is gravel or chalk, or clay. I know that some people will say that

this is a _puff_; and let it pass for that; but if any gentleman that is

going to plant trees will look into my _Book on Gardening_, and into the

Chapter on _Preparing the Soil_, he will, I think, see how conveniently

ground may be trenched without bringing to the top that soil in which

the young trees stand so long without making shoots.

This country, though so open, has its beauties. The homesteads in the

sheltered bottoms with fine lofty trees about the houses and yards form

a beautiful contrast with the large open fields. The little villages,

running straggling along the dells (always with lofty trees and

rookeries) are very interesting objects, even in the winter. You feel a

sort of satisfaction, when you are out upon the bleak hills yourself, at

the thought of the shelter which is experienced in the dwellings in the

valleys.

Andover is a neat and solid market-town. It is supported entirely by the

agriculture around it; and how the makers of _population returns_ ever

came to think of classing the inhabitants of such a town as this under

any other head than that of "_persons employed in agriculture_," would

appear astonishing to any man who did not know those population return

makers as well as I do.

The village of Uphusband, the legal name of which is Hurstbourn

Tarrant, is, as the reader will recollect, a great favourite with me,

not the less so certainly on account of the excellent free-quarter that

it affords.

THROUGH HAMPSHIRE, BERKSHIRE, SURREY, AND SUSSEX, BETWEEN 7th OCTOBER

AND 1ST DECEMBER, 1822, 327 MILES.

_7th to 10th Oct. 1822._

At Uphusband, a little village in a deep dale, about five miles to the

North of Andover, and about three miles to the South of the Hills at

_Highclere_. The wheat is sown here, and up, and, as usual, at this time

of the year, looks very beautiful. The wages of the labourers brought

down to _six shillings a week_! a horrible thing to think of; but, I

hear, it is still worse in Wiltshire.

_11th October._

Went to Weyhill fair, at which I was about 46 years ago, when I rode a

little pony, and remember how proud I was on the occasion; but I also

remember that my brothers, two out of three of whom were older than I,

thought it unfair that my father selected me; and my own reflections

upon the occasion have never been forgotten by me. The 11th of October

is the Sheep-fair. About 300,000_l._ used, some few years ago, to be

carried home by the sheep-sellers. To-day, less, perhaps, than

70,000_l._, and yet the _rents_ of these sheep-sellers are, perhaps, as

high, on an average, as they were then. The countenances of the farmers

were descriptive of their ruinous state. I never, in all my life, beheld

a more mournful scene. There is a horse-fair upon another part of the

down; and there I saw horses keeping pace in depression with the sheep.

A pretty numerous group of the tax-eaters, from Andover and the

neighbourhood, were the only persons that had smiles on their faces. I

was struck with a young farmer trotting a horse backward and forward to

show him off to a couple of gentlemen, who were bargaining for the

horse, and one of whom finally purchased him. These _gentlemen_ were two

of our "_dead-weight_," and the horse was that on which the farmer had

pranced in the _Yeomanry Troop_! Here is a turn of things! Distress;

pressing distress; dread of the bailiffs alone could have made the

farmer sell his horse. If he had the firmness to keep the tears out of

his eyes, his heart must have paid the penalty. What, then, must have

been his feelings, if he reflected, as I did, that the purchase-money

for the horse had first gone from his pocket into that of the

_dead-weight_! And, further, that the horse had pranced about for years

for the purpose of subduing all opposition to those very measures, which

had finally dismounted the owner!

From this dismal scene, a scene formerly so joyous, we set off back to

Uphusband pretty early, were overtaken by the rain, and got a pretty

good soaking. The land along here is very good. This whole country has a

chalk bottom; but, in the valley on the right of the hill over which you

go from Andover to Weyhill, the chalk lies far from the top, and the

soil has few flints in it. It is very much like the land about Malden

and Maidstone. Met with a farmer who said he must be ruined, unless

another "good war" should come! This is no uncommon notion. They saw

high prices _with_ war, and they thought that the war was the _cause_.

_12 to 16 of October._

The fair was too dismal for me to go to it again. My sons went two of

the days, and their account of the hop-fair was enough to make one

gloomy for a month, particularly as my townsmen of Farnham were, in this

case, amongst the sufferers. On the 12th I went to dine with and to

harangue the farmers at Andover. Great attention was paid to what I had

to say. The crowding to get into the room was a proof of nothing,

perhaps, but _curiosity_; but there must have been a _cause_ for the

curiosity, and that cause would, under the present circumstances, be

matter for reflection with a wise government.

_17 October._

Went to Newbury to dine with and to harangue the farmers. It was a

fair-day. It rained so hard that I had to stop at Burghclere to dry my

clothes, and to borrow a great coat to keep me dry for the rest of the

way; so as not to have to sit in wet clothes. At Newbury the company was

not less attentive or less numerous than at Andover. Some one of the

tax-eating crew had, I understand, called me an "incendiary." The day is

passed for those tricks. They deceive no longer. Here, at Newbury, I

took occasion to notice the base accusation of _Dundas_, the Member for

the County. I stated it as something that I had heard of, and I was

proceeding to charge him conditionally, when Mr. Tubb of Shillingford

rose from his seat, and said, "I myself, Sir, heard him say the words."

I had heard of his vile conduct long before; but I abstained from

charging him with it till an opportunity should offer for doing it in

his own country. After the dinner was over I went back to Burghclere.

_18 to 20 October._

At Burghclere, one half the time writing, and the other half

hare-hunting.

_21 October._

Went back to Uphusband.

_22 October._

Went to dine with the farmers at Salisbury, and got back to Uphusband by

ten o'clock at night, two hours later than I have been out of bed for a

great many months.

In quitting Andover to go to Salisbury (17 miles from each other) you

cross the beautiful valley that goes winding down amongst the hills to

Stockbridge. You then rise into the open country that very soon becomes

a part of that large tract of downs, called Salisbury Plain. You are not

in Wiltshire, however, till you are about half the way to Salisbury. You

leave Tidworth away to your right. This is the seat of Asheton Smith;

and the fine _coursing_ that I once saw there I should have called to

recollection with pleasure, if I could have forgotten the hanging of the

men at Winchester last Spring for resisting one of this Smith's

game-keepers! This Smith's son and a Sir John Pollen are the members for

Andover. They are chosen by the Corporation. One of the Corporation, an

Attorney, named Etwall, is a Commissioner of the Lottery, or something

in that way. It would be a curious thing to ascertain how large a

portion of the "public services" is performed by the voters in Boroughs

and their relations. These persons are singularly kind to the nation.

They not only choose a large part of the "representatives of the

people;" but they come in person, or by deputy, and perform a very

considerable part of the "_public services_." I should like to know how

many of them are employed about the _Salt-Tax_, for instance. A list of

these public-spirited persons might be produced to show the _benefit_ of

the Boroughs.

Before you get to Salisbury, you cross the valley that brings down a

little river from Amesbury. It is a very beautiful valley. There is a

chain of farmhouses and little churches all the way up it. The farms

consist of the land on the flats on each side of the river, running out

to a greater or less extent, at different places, towards the hills and

downs. Not far above Amesbury is a little village called Netherhaven,

where I once saw an _acre of hares_. We were coursing at Everly, a few

miles off; and one of the party happening to say, that he had seen "an

acre of hares" at Mr. Hicks Beech's at Netherhaven, we, who wanted to

see the same, or to detect our informant, sent a messenger to beg a

day's coursing, which being granted, we went over the next day. Mr.

Beech received us very politely. He took us into a wheat stubble close

by his paddock; his son took a gallop round, cracking his whip at the

same time; the hares (which were very thickly in sight before) started

all over the field, ran into a _flock_ like sheep; and we all agreed,

that the flock did cover _an acre of ground_. Mr. Beech had an old

greyhound, that I saw lying down in the shrubbery close by the house,

while several hares were sitting and skipping about, with just as much

confidence as cats sit by a dog in a kitchen or a parlour. Was this

_instinct_ in either dog or hares? Then, mind, this same greyhound went

amongst the rest to course with us out upon the distant hills and lands;

and then he ran as eagerly as the rest, and killed the hares with as

little remorse. Philosophers will talk a long while before they will

make men believe, that this was _instinct alone_. I believe that this

dog had much more reason than half of the Cossacks have; and I am sure

he had a great deal more than many a Negro that I have seen.

In crossing this valley to go to Salisbury, I thought of Mr. Beech's

hares; but I really have neither thought of nor seen any _game_ with

pleasure, since the hanging of the two men at Winchester. If no other

man will petition for the repeal of the law, under which those poor

fellows suffered, I will. But let us hope, that there will be no need of

petitioning. Let us hope, that it will be repealed without any express

application for it. It is curious enough that laws of this sort should

_increase_, while _Sir James Mackintosh_ is so resolutely bent on

"_softening the criminal code_!" The company at Salisbury was very

numerous; not less than 500 farmers were present. They were very

attentive to what I said, and, which rather surprised me, they received

very docilely what I said against squeezing the labourers. A fire in a

farmyard had lately taken place near Salisbury; so that the subject was

a ticklish one. But it was my very first duty to treat of it, and I was

resolved, be the consequence what it might, not to neglect that duty.

_23 to 26 October._

At Uphusband. At this village, which is a great thoroughfare for sheep

and pigs, from Wiltshire and Dorsetshire to Berkshire, Oxfordshire, and

away to the North and North East, we see many farmers from different

parts of the country; and, if I had had any doubts before, as to the

deplorableness of their state, those would now no longer exist. I did,

indeed, years ago, prove, that if we returned to cash payments without a

reduction of the Debt, and without a rectifying of contracts, the

present race of farmers must be ruined. But still, when the thing

actually comes, it astounds one. It is like the death of a friend or

relation. We talk of its approach without much emotion. We foretell the

_when_ without much seeming pain. We know it _must be_. But, when it

comes, we forget our foretellings, and feel the calamity as acutely as

if we had never expected it. The accounts we hear, daily, and almost

hourly, of the families of farmers actually coming to the _parish-book_,

are enough to make any body but a Boroughmonger feel. That species of

monster is to be moved by nothing but his own pecuniary sufferings; and,

thank God, the monster is now about to be _reached_. I hear, from all

parts, that the parsons are in great alarm! Well they may, if their

hearts be too much set upon the treasures of this world; for I can see

no possible way of settling this matter justly, without resorting to

their temporalities. They have long enough been calling upon all the

industrious classes for "sacrifices for the good of the country." The

time seems to be come for them to do something in this way themselves.

In a short time there will be, because there can be, no rents. And, we

shall see, whether the landlords will then suffer the parsons to

continue to receive a tenth part of the produce of the land! In many

places the farmers have had the sense and the spirit to _rate_ the

tithes to the _poor-rates_. This they _ought_ to do in all cases,

whether the tithes be taken up in kind or not. This, however, sweats the

fire-shovel hat gentleman. It "bothers his wig." He does not know what

to think of it. He does not know _who to blame_; and, where a parson

finds things not to his mind, the first thing he always does is, to look

about for somebody to accuse of sedition and blasphemy. Lawyers always

begin, in such cases, to hunt the books, to see if there be no

_punishment_ to apply. But the devil of it is, neither of them have now

any body to lay on upon! I always told them, that there would arise an

enemy, that would laugh at all their anathemas, informations, dungeons,

halters and bayonets. One positive good has, however, arisen out of the

present calamities, and that is, the _parsons_ are grown more _humble_

than they were. Cheap corn and a good thumping debt have greatly

conduced to the producing of the Christian virtue, _humility_, necessary

in us all, but doubly necessary in the priesthood. The parson is now one

of the parties who is taking away the landlord's estate and the farmer's

capital. When the farmer's capital is gone, there will be no rents; but,

without a law upon the subject, the parson will still have his tithe,

and a tithe upon the _taxes_ too, which the land has to bear! Will the

landlords stand this? No matter. If there be no reform of the

Parliament, they must stand it. The two sets may, for aught I care,

worry each other as long as they please. When the present race of

farmers are gone (and that will soon be) the landlord and the parson may

settle the matter between them. They will be the only parties

interested; and which of them shall devour the other appears to be of

little consequence to the rest of the community. They agreed most

cordially in creating the Debt. They went hand in hand in all the

measures against the Reformers. They have made, actually made, the very

thing that now frightens them, which now menaces them with _total

extinction_. They cannot think it unjust, if their prayers be now

treated as the prayers of the Reformers were.

_27 to 29 October._

At Burghclere. Very nasty weather. On the 28th the fox-hounds came to

throw off at _Penwood_, in this parish. Having heard that _Dundas_ would

be out with the hounds, I rode to the place of meeting, in order to look

him in the face, and to give him an opportunity to notice, on his own

peculiar dunghill, what I had said of him at Newbury. He came. I rode up

to him and about him; but he said not a word. The company entered the

wood, and I rode back towards my quarters. They found a fox, and quickly

lost him. Then they came out of the wood and came back along the road,

and met me, and passed me, they as well as I going at a foot pace. I had

plenty of time to survey them all well, and to mark their looks. I

watched Dundas's eyes, but the devil a bit could I get them to turn _my

way_. He is _paid_ for the present. We shall see, whether he will go, or

send an ambassador, or neither, when I shall be at Reading on the 9th of

next month.

_30 October._

Set off for London. Went by Alderbridge, Crookham, Brimton, Mortimer,

Strathfield Say, Heckfield Heath, Eversley, Blackwater, and slept at

Oakingham. This is, with trifling exceptions, a miserably poor country.

Burghclere lies along at the foot of a part of that chain of hills,

which, in this part, divide Hampshire from Berkshire. The parish just

named is, indeed, in Hampshire, but it forms merely the foot of the

Highclere and Kingsclere Hills. These hills, from which you can see all

across the country, even to the Isle of Wight, are of chalk, and with

them, towards the North, ends the chalk. The soil over which I have come

to-day, is generally a stony sand upon a bed of gravel. With the

exception of the land just round Crookham and the other villages,

nothing can well be poorer or more villanously ugly. It is all first

cousin to Hounslow Heath, of which it is, in fact, a continuation to the

Westward. There is a clay at the bottom of the gravel; so that you have

here nasty stagnant pools without fertility of soil. The rushes grow

amongst the gravel; sure sign that there is clay beneath to hold the

water; for, unless there be water constantly at their roots, rushes will

not grow. Such land is, however, good for _oaks_ wherever there is soil

enough on the top of the gravel for the oak to get hold, and to send its

tap-root down to the clay. The oak is the thing to plant here; and,

_therefore_, this whole country contains not one single plantation of

oaks! That is to say, as far as I observed. Plenty of _fir_-trees and

other rubbish have been recently planted; but no oaks.

At _Strathfield Say_ is that everlasting monument of English Wisdom

Collective, the _Heir Loom Estate_ of the "_greatest Captain of the

Age_!" In his peerage it is said, that it was wholly out of the power of

the nation to reward his services fully; but, that "she did what she

could!" Well, poor devil! And what could any body ask for more? It was

well, however, that she give what she did while she was drunk; for, if

she had held her hand till now, I am half disposed to think, that her

gifts would have been very small. I can never forget that we have to pay

interest on 50,000_l._ of the money merely owing to the coxcombery of

the late Mr. Whitbread, who actually moved that _addition_ to one of the

grants proposed by the Ministers! Now, a great part of the grants is in

the way of annuity or pension. It is notorious, that, when the grants

were made, the pensions would not purchase more than a third part of as

much wheat as they will now. The grants, therefore, have been augmented

threefold. What right, then, has any one to say, that the _labourers'

wages_ ought to fall, unless he say, that these pensions ought to be

reduced! The Hampshire Magistrates, when they were putting forth their

_manifesto_ about the allowances to labourers, should have noticed these

pensions of the Lord Lieutenant of the County. However, real starvation

cannot be inflicted to any very great extent. The present race of

farmers must give way, and the attempts to squeeze rents out of the

wages of labour must cease. And the matter will finally rest to be

settled by the landlords, parsons, and tax-eaters. If the landlords

choose to give the greatest captain three times as much as was granted

to him, why, let him have it. According to all account, he is no _miser_

at any rate; and the estates that pass through his hands may, perhaps,

be full as well disposed of as they are at present. Considering the

miserable soil I have passed over to-day, I am rather surprised to find

Oakingham so decent a town. It has a very handsome market-place, and is

by no means an ugly country-town.

_31 October._

Set off at daylight and got to Kensington about noon. On leaving

Oakingham for London, you get upon what is called _Windsor Forest_; that

is to say, upon as bleak, as barren, and as villanous a heath as ever

man set his eyes on. However, here are new enclosures without end. And

here are houses too, here and there, over the whole of this execrable

tract of country. "What!" Mr. Canning will say, "will you not allow that

the owners of these new enclosures and these houses know their own

interests? And are not these _improvements_, and are they not a proof of

an addition to the national capital?" To the first I answer, _May be

so_; to the two last, _No_. These new enclosures and houses arise out of

the beggaring of the parts of the country distant from the vortex of the

funds. The farmhouses have long been growing fewer and fewer; the

labourers' houses fewer and fewer; and it is manifest to every man who

has eyes to see with, that the villages are regularly wasting away. This

is the case all over the parts of the kingdom where the tax-eaters do

not haunt. In all the really agricultural villages and parts of the

kingdom, there is a _shocking decay_; a great dilapidation and constant

pulling down or falling down of houses. The farmhouses are not so many

as they were forty years ago by three-fourths. That is to say, the

infernal system of Pitt and his followers has annihilated three parts

out of four of the farm houses. The labourers' houses disappear also.

And all the _useful_ people become less numerous. While these spewy

sands and gravel near London are enclosed and built on, good lands in

other parts are neglected. These enclosures and buildings are a _waste_;

they are means _misapplied_; they are a proof of national decline and

not of prosperity. To cultivate and ornament these villanous spots the

produce and the population are drawn away from the good lands. There all

manner of schemes have been resorted to to get rid of the necessity of

_hands_; and, I am quite convinced, that the population, upon the whole,

has not increased, in England, one single soul since I was born; an

opinion that I have often expressed, in support of which I have as often

offered arguments, and those arguments have _never been answered_. As to

this rascally heath, that which has ornamented it has brought misery on

millions. The spot is not far distant from the Stock-Jobbing crew. The

roads to it are level. They are smooth. The wretches can go to it from

the 'Change without any danger to their worthless necks. And thus it is

"_vastly improved, Ma'am_!" A set of men who can look upon this as

"improvement," who can regard this as a proof of the "increased capital

of the country," are pretty fit, it must be allowed, to get the country

out of its present difficulties! At the end of this blackguard heath you

come (on the road to Egham) to a little place called _Sunning Hill_,

which is on the Western side of Windsor Park. It is a spot all made into

"grounds" and gardens by tax-eaters. The inhabitants of it have beggared

twenty agricultural villages and hamlets.

From this place you go across a corner of Windsor Park, and come out at

Virginia Water. To Egham is then about two miles. A much more ugly

country than that between Egham and Kensington would with great

difficulty be found in England. Flat as a pancake, and, until you come

to Hammersmith, the soil is a nasty stony dirt upon a bed of gravel.

Hounslow-heath, which is only a little worse than the general run, is a

sample of all that is bad in soil and villanous in look. Yet this is now

enclosed, and what they call "cultivated." Here is a fresh robbery of

villages, hamlets, and farm and labourers' buildings and abodes! But

here is one of those "_vast improvements, Ma'am_," called _Barracks_.

What an "improvement!" What an "addition to the national capital!" For,

mind, Monsieur de Snip, the Surrey Norman, actually said, that the new

buildings ought to be reckoned an addition to the national capital!

What, Snip! Do you pretend that the nation is _richer_, because the

means of making this barrack have been drawn away from the people in

taxes? Mind, Monsieur le Normand, the barrack did not drop down from the

sky nor spring up out of the earth. It was not created by the unhanged

knaves of paper-money. It came out of the people's labour; and, when you

hear Mr. Ellman tell the Committee of 1821, that forty-five years ago

every man in his parish brewed his own beer, and that now not one man in

that same parish does it; when you hear this, Monsieur de Snip, you

might, if you had brains in your skull, be able to estimate the effects

of what has produced the barrack. Yet, barracks there must be, or

_Gatton_ and _Old Sarum_ must fall; and the fall of these would break

poor Mr. Canning's heart.

_8 November._

From London to Egham in the evening.

_9 November._

Started at day-break in a hazy frost, for Reading. The horses' manes and

ears covered with the hoar before we got across Windsor Park, which

appeared to be a blackguard soil, pretty much like Hounslow Heath, only

not flat. A very large part of the Park is covered with heath or rushes,

sure sign of execrable soil. But the roads are such as might have been

made by Solomon. "A greater than Solomon is here!" some one may exclaim.

Of that I know nothing. I am but a traveller; and the roads in this park

are beautiful indeed. My servant, whom I brought from amongst the hills

and flints of Uphusband, must certainly have thought himself in Paradise

as he was going through the Park. If I had told him that the buildings

and the labourers' clothes and meals, at Uphusband, were the _worse_ for

those pretty roads with edgings cut to the line, he would have wondered

at me, I dare say. It would, nevertheless, have been perfectly true; and

this is _feelosofee_ of a much more useful sort than that which is

taught by the Edinburgh Reviewers.

When you get through the Park you come to Winkfield, and then (bound for

Reading) you go through Binfield, which is ten miles from Egham and as

many from Reading. At Binfield I stopped to breakfast, at a very nice

country inn called the _Stag and Hounds_. Here you go along on the North

border of that villanous tract of country that I passed over in going

from Oakingham to Egham. Much of the land even here is but newly

enclosed; and it was really not worth a straw before it was loaded with

the fruit of the labour of the people living in the parts of the country

distant from the _Fund-Wen_. What injustice! What unnatural changes!

Such things cannot be, without producing convulsion in the end! A road

as smooth as a die, a real stock-jobber's road, brought us to Reading by

eleven o'clock. We dined at one; and very much pleased I was with the

company. I have seldom seen a number of persons assembled together,

whose approbation I valued more than that of the company of this day.

Last year the prime Minister said, that his speech (the grand speech)

was rendered necessary by the "pains that had been taken, in different

parts of the country," to persuade the farmers, that the distress had

arisen out of the _measures of the government_, and _not from

over-production_! To be sure I had taken some pains to remove that

stupid notion about over-production, from the minds of the farmers; but

did the stern-path-man _succeed_ in counteracting the effect of my

efforts? Not he, indeed. And, after his speech was made, and sent forth

cheek by jowl with that of the sane Castlereagh, of hole-digging memory,

the truths inculcated by me were only the more manifest. This has been a

fine meeting at Reading! I feel very proud of it. The morning was fine

for me to ride in, and the rain began as soon as I was housed.

I came on horse-back 40 miles, slept on the road, and finished my

harangue at the end of _twenty-two hours_ from leaving Kensington; and,

I cannot help saying, that is pretty well for "_Old_ Cobbett." I am

delighted with the people that I have seen at Reading. Their kindness to

me is nothing in my estimation compared with the sense and spirit which

they appear to possess. It is curious to observe how things have

_worked_ with me. That combination, that sort of _instinctive_ union,

which has existed for so many years, amongst all the parties, to _keep

me down_ generally, and particularly, as the _County-Club_ called it, to

keep me out of Parliament "_at any rate_," this combination has led to

the present _haranguing_ system, which, in some sort, supplies the place

of a seat in Parliament. It may be said, indeed, that I have not the

honour to sit in the same room with those great Reformers, Lord John

Russell, Sir Massey Lopez, and his guest, Sir Francis Burdett; but man's

happiness here below is never perfect; and there may be, besides, people

to believe, that a man ought not to break his heart on account of being

shut out of such company, especially when he can find such company as I

have this day found at Reading.

_10 November._

Went from Reading, through Aldermaston for Burghclere. The rain has been

very heavy, and the water was a good deal out. Here, on my way, I got

upon Crookham Common again, which is a sort of continuation of the

wretched country about Oakingham. From Highclere I looked, one day, over

the flat towards Marlborough; and I there saw some such rascally heaths.

So that this villanous tract, extends from East to West, with more or

less of exceptions, from Hounslow to Hungerford. From North to South it

extends from Binfield (which cannot be far from the borders of

Buckinghamshire) to the South Downs of Hampshire, and terminates

somewhere between Liphook and Petersfield, after stretching over

Hindhead, which is certainly the most villanous spot that God ever made.

Our ancestors do, indeed, seem to have ascribed its formation to another

power; for the most celebrated part of it is called "_the Devil's Punch

Bowl_." In this tract of country there are certainly some very beautiful

spots. But these are very few in number, except where the chalk-hills

run into the tract. The neighbourhood of Godalming ought hardly to be

considered as an exception; for there you are just on the outside of the

tract, and begin to enter on the _Wealds_; that is to say, clayey

woodlands. All the part of Berkshire, of which I have been recently

passing over, if I except the tract from Reading to Crookham, is very

bad land and a very ugly country.

_11 November._

Uphusband _once more_, and, for the sixth time this year, over the North

Hampshire Hills, which, notwithstanding their everlasting flints, I like

very much. As you ride along, even in a _green lane_, the horses' feet

make a noise like _hammering_. It seems as if you were riding on a mass

of iron. Yet the soil is good, and bears some of the best wheat in

England. All these high, and indeed, all chalky lands, are excellent for

sheep. But, on the top of some of these hills, there are as fine meadows

as I ever saw. Pasture richer, perhaps, than that about Swindon in the

North of Wiltshire. And the singularity is, that this pasture is on the

_very tops_ of these lofty hills, from which you can see the Isle of

Wight. There is a stiff loam, in some places twenty feet deep, on a

bottom of chalk. Though the grass grows so finely, there is no apparent

wetness in the land. The wells are more than three hundred feet deep.

The main part of the water, for all uses, comes from the clouds; and,

indeed, these are pretty constant companions of these chalk hills, which

are very often enveloped in clouds and wet, when it is sunshine down at

Burghclere or Uphusband. They manure the land here by digging _wells_ in

the fields, and bringing up the chalk, which they spread about on the

land; and which, being free-chalk, is reduced to powder by the frosts. A

considerable portion of the land is covered with wood; and as, in the

clearing of the land, the clearers followed the good soil, without

regard to shape of fields, the forms of the woods are of endless

variety, which, added to the never-ceasing inequalities of the surface

of the whole, makes this, like all the others of the same description, a

very pleasant country.

_17 November._

Set off from Uphusband for Hambledon. The first place I had to get to

was Whitchurch. On my way, and at a short distance from Uphusband, down

the valley, I went through a village called _Bourn_, which takes its

name from the water that runs down this valley. A _bourn_, in the

language of our forefathers, seems to be a river, which is, part of the

year, _without water_. There is one of these bourns down this pretty

valley. It has, generally, no water till towards Spring, and then it

runs for several months. It is the same at the Candovers, as you go

across the downs from Odiham to Winchester.

The little village of _Bourn_, therefore, takes its name from its

situation. Then there are two _Hurstbourns_, one above and one below

this village of Bourn. _Hurst_ means, I believe, a Forest. There were,

doubtless, one of those on each side of Bourn; and when they became

villages, the one above was called _Up_-hurstbourn, and the one below,

_Down_-hurstbourn; which names have become _Uphusband_ and

_Downhusband_. The lawyers, therefore, who, to the immortal honour of

high-blood and Norman descent, are making such a pretty story out for

the Lord Chancellor, relative to a Noble Peer who voted for the Bill

against the Queen, ought to leave off calling the seat of the noble

person _Hursperne_; for it is at Downhurstbourn where he lives, and

where he was visited by Dr. Bankhead!

Whitchurch is a small town, but famous for being the place where the

paper has been made for the _Borough-Bank_! I passed by the _mill_ on my

way out to get upon the downs to go to Alresford, where I intended to

sleep. I hope the time will come, when a monument will be erected where

that mill stands, and when on that monument will be inscribed _the curse

of England_. This spot ought to be held accursed in all time henceforth

and for evermore. It has been the spot from which have sprung more and

greater mischiefs than ever plagued mankind before. However, the evils

now appear to be fast recoiling on the merciless authors of them; and,

therefore, one beholds this scene of paper-making with a less degree of

rage than formerly. My blood used to boil when I thought of the wretches

who carried on and supported the system. It does not boil now, when I

think of them. The curse, which they intended solely for others, is now

falling on themselves; and I smile at their sufferings. Blasphemy!

Atheism! Who can be an Atheist, that sees how _justly_ these wretches

are treated; with what exact measure they are receiving the evils which

they inflicted on others for a time, and which they intended to inflict

on them for ever! If, indeed, the monsters had continued to prosper, one

might have been an Atheist. The true history of the rise, progress and

fall of these monsters, of their _power_, their _crimes_ and their

_punishment_, will do more than has been done before to put an end to

the doubts of those who have doubts upon this subject.

Quitting Whitchurch, I went off to the left out of the Winchester-road,

got out upon the high-lands, took an "observation," as the sailors call

it, and off I rode, in a straight line, over hedge and ditch, towards

the rising ground between Stratton Park and Micheldever-Wood; but,

before I reached this point, I found some wet meadows and some running

water in my way in a little valley running up from the turnpike road to

a little place called _West Stratton_. I, therefore, turned to my left,

went down to the turnpike, went a little way along it, then turned to my

left, went along by Stratton Park pales down East Stratton-street, and

then on towards the Grange Park. Stratton Park is the seat of Sir Thomas

Baring, who has here several thousands of acres of land; who has the

living of Micheldever, to which, I think, Northington and Swallowfield

are joined. Above all, he has Micheldever Wood, which, they say,

contains a thousand acres, and which is one of the finest oak-woods in

England. This large and very beautiful estate must have belonged to the

Church at the time of Henry the Eighth's "_reformation_." It was, I

believe, given by him to the family of _Russell_; and it was, by them,

sold to Sir Francis Baring about twenty years ago. Upon the whole, all

things considered, the change is for the better. Sir Thomas Baring would

not have moved, nay, he _did not_ move, for the pardon of _Lopez_, while

he left Joseph Swann in gaol for _four years and a half_, without so

much as hinting at Swann's case! Yea, verily, I would rather see this

estate in the hands of Sir Thomas Baring than in those of Lopez's

friend. Besides, it seems to be acknowledged that any title is as good

as those derived from the old wife-killer. Castlereagh, when the Whigs

talked in a rather rude manner about the sinecure places and pensions,

told them, that the title of the sinecure man or woman was _as good as

the titles of the Duke of Bedford_! this was _plagiarism_, to the sure;

for _Burke_ had begun it. He called the Duke the _Leviathan of grants_;

and seemed to hint at the propriety of _over-hauling_ them a little.

When the men of Kent petitioned for a "_just_ reduction of the National

Debt," Lord John Russell, with that wisdom for which he is renowned,

reprobated the prayer; but, having done this in terms not sufficiently

unqualified and strong, and having made use of a word of equivocal

meaning, the man, that cut his own throat at North Cray, pitched on upon

him and told him, that the fundholder had as much right to his

dividends, as _the Duke of Bedford had to his estates_. Upon this the

noble reformer and advocate for Lopez mended his expressions; and really

said what the North Cray philosopher said he ought to say! Come, come:

Micheldever Wood is in very proper hands! A little girl, of whom I asked

my way down into East Stratton, and who was dressed in a camlet gown,

white apron and plaid cloak (it was Sunday), and who had a book in her

hand, told me that Lady Baring gave her the clothes, and had her taught

to read and to sing hymns and spiritual songs.

As I came through the Strattons, I saw not less than a dozen girls clad

in this same way. It is impossible not to believe that this is done with

a good motive; but it is possible not to believe that it is productive

of good. It must create hypocrites, and hypocrisy is the great sin of

the age. Society is in a _queer_ state when the rich think, that they

must _educate_ the poor in order to insure their _own safety_: for this,

at bottom, is the great motive now at work in pushing on the education

scheme, though in this particular case, perhaps, there may be a little

enthusiasm at work. When persons are glutted with riches; when they have

their fill of them; when they are surfeited of all earthly pursuits,

they are very apt to begin to think about the next world; and, the

moment they begin to think of that, they begin to look over the

_account_ that they shall have to present. Hence the far greater part of

what are called "charities." But it is the business of _governments_ to

take care that there shall be very little of this _glutting_ with

riches, and very little need of "charities."

From Stratton I went on to Northington Down; then round to the South of

the Grange Park (Alex. Baring's), down to Abbotson, and over some pretty

little green hills to Alresford, which is a nice little town of itself,

but which presents a singularly beautiful view from the last little hill

coming from Abbotson. I could not pass by the Grange Park without

thinking of _Lord and Lady Henry Stuart_, whose lives and deaths

surpassed what we read of in the most sentimental romances. Very few

things that I have met with in my life ever filled me with sorrow equal

to that which I felt at the death of this most virtuous and most amiable

pair.

It began raining soon after I got to Alresford, and rained all the

evening. I heard here, that a Requisition for a County Meeting was in

the course of being signed in different parts of the county. They mean

to petition for Reform, I hope. At any rate, I intend to go to see what

they do. I saw the _parsons_ at the county meeting in 1817. I should

like, of all things, to see them at another meeting _now_. These are the

persons that I have most steadily in my eye. The war and the debt were

for the _tithes_ and the _boroughs_. These must stand or fall together

now. I always told the parsons, that they were the greatest fools in the

world to put the tithes on board _the same boat_ with the boroughs. I

told them so in 1817; and, I fancy, they will soon see all about it.

_November 18._

Came from Alresford to Hambledon, through Titchbourn, Cheriton,

Beauworth, Kilmston, and Exton. This is all a high, hard, dry,

fox-hunting country. Like that, indeed, over which I came yesterday. At

Titchbourn, there is a park, and "great house," as the country-people

call it. The place belongs, I believe, to a Sir somebody _Titchbourne_,

a family, very likely half as old as the name of the village, which,

however, partly takes its name from the _bourn_ that runs down the

valley. I thought, as I was riding alongside of this park, that I had

heard _good_ of this family of Titchbourne, and, I therefore saw the

park _pales_ with sorrow. There is not more than one pale in a yard, and

those that remain, and the rails and posts and all, seem tumbling down.

This park-paling is perfectly typical of those of the landlords who are

_not tax-eaters_. They are wasting away very fast. The tax-eating

landlords think to swim out the gale. They are deceived. They are

"deluded" by their own greediness.

Kilmston was my next place after Titchbourn, but I wanted to go to

Beauworth, so that I had to go through Cheriton; a little, hard, iron

village, where all seems to be as old as the hills that surround it. In

coming along you see Titchbourn church away to the right, on the side of

the hill, a very pretty little view; and this, though such a hard

country, is a pretty country.

At Cheriton I found a grand camp of _Gipsys_, just upon the move towards

Alresford. I had met some of the scouts first, and afterwards the

advanced guard, and here the main body was getting in motion. One of the

scouts that I met was a young woman, who, I am sure, was six feet high.

There were two or three more in the camp of about the same height; and

some most strapping fellows of men. It is curious that this race should

have preserved their dark skin and coal-black straight and coarse hair,

very much like that of the American Indians. I mean the hair, for the

skin has nothing of the copper-colour as that of the Indians has. It is

not, either, of the Mulatto cast; that is to say, there is no yellow in

it. It is a black mixed with our English colours of pale, or red, and

the features are small, like those of the girls in Sussex, and often

singularly pretty. The tall girl that I met at Titchbourn, who had a

huckster basket on her arm, had most beautiful features. I pulled up my

horse, and said, "Can you tell me my fortune, my dear?" She answered in

the negative, giving me a look at the same time, that seemed to say, it

was _too late_; and that if I had been thirty years younger she might

have seen a little what she could do with me. It is, all circumstances

considered, truly surprising, that this race should have preserved so

perfectly all its distinctive marks.

I came on to Beauworth to inquire after the family of a worthy old

farmer, whom I knew there some years ago, and of whose death I had heard

at Alresford. A bridle road over some fields and through a coppice took

me to Kilmston, formerly a large village, but now mouldered into two

farms, and a few miserable tumble-down houses for the labourers. Here is

a house, that was formerly the residence of the landlord of the place,

but is now occupied by one of the farmers. This is a fine country for

fox-hunting, and Kilmston belonged to a Mr. Ridge who was a famous

fox-hunter, and who is accused of having spent his fortune in that way.

But what do people mean? He had a right to spend his _income_, as his

fathers had done before him. It was the Pitt-system, and not the

fox-hunting, that took away the principal. The place now belongs to a

Mr. Long, whose origin I cannot find out.

From Kilmston I went right over the downs to the top of a hill called

_Beacon Hill_, which is one of the loftiest hills in the country. Here

you can see the Isle of Wight in detail, a fine sweep of the sea; also

away into Sussex, and over the New Forest into Dorsetshire. Just below

you, to the East, you look down upon the village of Exton; and you can

see up this valley (which is called a _Bourn_ too) as far as West Meon,

and down it as far as Soberton. Corhampton, Warnford, Meon-Stoke and

Droxford come within these two points; so that here are six villages on

this bourn within the space of about five miles. On the other side of

the main valley down which the bourn runs, and opposite Beacon Hill, is

another such a hill, which they call _Old Winchester Hill_. On the top

of this hill there was once a camp, or, rather fortress; and the

ramparts are now pretty nearly as visible as ever. The same is to be

seen on the Beacon Hill at Highclere. These ramparts had nothing of the

principles of modern fortification in their formation. You see no signs

of salliant angles. It was a _ditch_ and _a bank_, and that appears to

have been all. I had, I think, a full mile to go down from the top of

Beacon Hill to Exton. This is the village where that _Parson Baines_

lives who, as described by me in 1817, bawled in Lord Cochrane's ear at

Winchester in the month of March of that year. Parson _Poulter_ lives at

Meon-Stoke, which is not a mile further down. So that this valley has

something in it besides picturesque views! I asked some countrymen how

Poulter and Baines did; but their answer contained too much of

_irreverence_ for me to give it here.

At Exton I crossed the Gosport turnpike road, came up the cross valley

under the South side of Old Winchester Hill, over Stoke down, then over

West-End down, and then to my friend's house at West-End in the parish

of Hambledon.

Thus have I crossed nearly the whole of this country from the North-West

to the South-East, without going five hundred yards on a turnpike road,

and, as nearly as I could do it, in a straight line.

The whole country that I have crossed is loam and flints, upon a bottom

of chalk. At Alresford there are some watered meadows, which are the

beginning of a chain of meadows that goes all the way down to

Winchester, and hence to Southampton; but even these meadows have, at

Alresford, chalk under them. The water that supplies them comes out of

_a pond_, called Alresford Pond, which is fed from the high hills in the

neighbourhood. These counties are purely agricultural; and they have

suffered most cruelly from the accursed Pitt-system. Their hilliness,

bleakness, roughness of roads, render them unpleasant to the luxurious,

effeminate, tax-eating crew, who never come near them, and who have

pared them down to the very bone. The villages are all in a state of

_decay_. The farm-buildings dropping down, bit by bit. The produce is,

by a few great farmers, dragged to a few spots, and all the rest is

falling into decay. If this infernal system could go on for forty years

longer, it would make all the labourers as much slaves as the negroes

are, and subject to the same sort of discipline and management.

_November 19 to 23._

At West End. Hambledon is a long, straggling village, lying in a little

valley formed by some very pretty but not lofty hills. The environs are

much prettier than the village itself, which is not far from the North

side of Portsdown Hill. This must have once been a considerable place;

for here is a church pretty nearly as large as that at Farnham in

Surrey, which is quite sufficient for a large town. The means of living

has been drawn away from these villages, and the people follow the

means. Cheriton and Kilmston and Hambledon and the like have been

beggared for the purpose of giving tax-eaters the means of making "_vast

improvements, Ma'am_," on the villanous spewy gravel of Windsor Forest!

The thing, however, must go _back_. Revolution here or revolution there:

bawl, bellow, alarm, as long as the tax-eaters like, _back_ the thing

must go. Back, indeed, _it is going_ in some quarters. Those scenes of

glorious loyalty, the sea-port places, are beginning to be deserted. How

many villages has that scene of all that is wicked and odious,

Portsmouth, Gosport, and Portsea; how many villages has that hellish

assemblage beggared! It is now being scattered _itself_! Houses which

there let for forty or fifty pounds a-year each, now let for three or

four shillings a-week each; and thousands, perhaps, cannot be let at all

to any body capable of paying rent. There is an absolute tumbling down

taking place, where, so lately, there were such "vast improvements,

Ma'am!" Does Monsieur de Snip call those improvements, then? Does he

insist, that those houses form "an addition to the national capital?" Is

it any wonder that a country should be miserable when such notions

prevail? And when they can, even in the Parliament, be received with

cheering?

_Nov. 24, Sunday._

Set off from Hambledon to go to Thursley in Surrey, about five miles

from Godalming. Here I am at Thursley, after as interesting a day as I

ever spent in all my life. They say that "_variety_ is charming," and

this day I have had of scenes and of soils a variety indeed!

To go to Thursley from Hambledon the plain way was up the downs to

Petersfield, and then along the turnpike-road through Liphook, and over

Hindhead, at the north-east foot of which Thursley lies. But, I had been

over that sweet Hindhead, and had seen too much of turnpike-road and of

heath, to think of taking another so large a dose of them. The map of

Hampshire (and we had none of Surrey) showed me the way to Headley,

which lies on the West of Hindhead, down upon the flat. I knew it was

but about five miles from Headley to Thursley; and I, therefore,

resolved to go to Headley, in spite of all the remonstrances of friends,

who represented to me the danger of breaking my neck at Hawkley and of

getting buried in the bogs of Woolmer Forest. My route was through

East-Meon, Froxfield, Hawkley, Greatham, and then over Woolmer Forest (a

_heath_ if you please), to Headley.

Off we set over the downs (crossing the bottom sweep of Old Winchester

Hill) from West-End to East-Meon. We came down a long and steep hill

that led us winding round into the village, which lies in a valley that

runs in a direction nearly east and west, and that has a rivulet that

comes out of the hills towards Petersfield. If I had not seen anything

further to-day, I should have dwelt long on the beauties of this place.

Here is a very fine valley, in nearly an eliptical form, sheltered by

high hills sloping gradually from it; and not far from the middle of

this valley there is a hill nearly in the form of a goblet-glass with

the foot and stem broken off and turned upside down. And this is clapped

down upon the level of the valley, just as you would put such goblet

upon a table. The hill is lofty, partly covered with wood, and it gives

an air of great singularity to the scene. I am sure that East-Meon has

been a _large place_. The church has a _Saxon Tower_, pretty nearly

equal, as far as I recollect, to that of the Cathedral at Winchester.

The rest of the church has been rebuilt, and, perhaps, several times;

but the _tower_ is complete; it has had _a steeple_ put upon it; but it

retains all its beauty, and it shows that the church (which is still

large) must, at first, have been a very large building. Let those, who

talk so glibly of the increase of the population in England, go over the

country from Highclere to Hambledon. Let them look at the size of the

churches, and let them observe those numerous small enclosures on every

side of every village, which had, to a certainty, _each its house_ in

former times. But let them go to East-Meon, and account for that church.

Where did the hands come from to make it? Look, however, at the downs,

the many square miles of downs near this village, all bearing the _marks

of the plough_, and all out of tillage for many many years; yet, not one

single inch of them but what is vastly superior in quality to any of

those great "improvements" on the miserable heaths of Hounslow, Bagshot,

and Windsor Forest. It is the destructive, the murderous paper-system,

that has transferred the fruit of the labour, and the people along with

it, from the different parts of the country to the neighbourhood of the

all-devouring _Wen_. I do not believe one word of what is said of the

increase of the population. All observation and all reason is against

the fact; and, as to the _parliamentary returns_, what need we more than

this: that _they_ assert, that the population of Great Britain has

increased from ten to fourteen millions in the last _twenty years_! That

is enough! A man that can suck that in will believe, literally believe,

that the moon is made of green cheese. Such a thing is too monstrous to

be swallowed by any body but Englishmen, and by any Englishman not

brutified by a Pitt-system.