vocation, as a farmer, and I was now become a complete master of every
branch of the profession, there being no part of it that I had not
performed with my own hands. Perhaps to speak of my personal exertions in
this way may be deemed by many superfluous, but on reflection they will, I
hope, not consider this to be the case. Hundreds, who are now living, were
eye-witnesses of what I may almost call the prodigies of strength and
personal labour performed by myself, and some of my father's servants, and
I shall merely mention a few of the circumstances to shew the reader that
in every thing I undertook I always performed it with such an enthusiasm,
and determined perseverance, that nothing could resist the accomplishment
of my undertakings. My father encouraged this desire that I evinced to
excel, and to perform unexampled deeds of labour, and feats of strength;
although he frequently expressed his fears that I should injure myself by
too great bodily exertion, and by too frequently straining my muscular
powers to their utmost stretch. I had undertaken and performed every
species of labour, connected with a very large farming business; I had
sown more acres of ground with corn in one day than any other man; I had
thrashed three quarters of barley, each succeeding day, for a fortnight
together, and that too at a time when some of the servants complained of
the difficulty of thrashing one quarter per day; I had pitched more loads
of corn in a day than had ever been recorded of any other person: in fact,
my father confessed that I got more work performed by the same number of
hands than he ever did when he was a young man; and for _him_ this was
admitting a great deal. I did this by good words and kindness towards my
fellow labourers; by always animating and cheering them on with my
example; by always placing myself in the heat of the battle; by taking the
most difficult and most laborious part. I always began every work by
saying to those around me COME let us do this, or let us do that, instead
of GO do this, or do that. My poor father always observed that it entirely
depended upon which of these little monosyllables, COME or GO, was made
use of, whether the work was done well or ill, expeditiously or
dilatorily. When any particular work was doing, my father's servants were
always in the field, and the job was begun, before those of our neighbours
had yet left their homes; and in changeable weather we had frequently
carried our hay or corn, and finished the rick or stack, before the rain
came on, while others had yet scarcely begun and were caught by the rain
in the worst situation possible. I have frequently, in the harvest time,
when we anticipated rain, been up, and a mile out in the field, pitching
the first load of wheat by two or before three o'clock in the morning,
while the carters were harnessing and bringing out the other teams. While
this load was being drawn home I had got my breakfast, and was ready to
begin laying the first sheaf of the wheat-rick, which many times I had
finished, though consisting of thirty large loads of sheaves, before the
middle of the day; by which means, if the rain came, we had secured
perhaps one hundred sacks of wheat, and these would prove worth from five
to ten shillings a sack more than that which was left out to take the
rain. If it proved a false alarm, and the weather was fine, we got a
second rick finished by night, and thereby had secured two hundred instead
of one hundred sacks of wheat in one day. It will be asked by some, how
did the labourers relish this extra toil and double work? The answer is
easy--perfectly well. I always took care to have them amply rewarded in
proportion to their exertions; and I never failed to add something,
besides good words and kind treatment, for the cheerfulness and alacrity
with which they approached and performed the task. I always made the
wheat-ricks, and I have many times made two ricks, containing thirty loads
in each rick, in one day. This work of making wheat-ricks, in very hot
weather, which is generally the case, is much the hardest and most severe
work, if done well, belonging to the farming business; and I was so
thoroughly convinced of this, that I always allowed the person who
afterwards made my wheat-ricks, a pint of ale as often, during the day, as
he chose to ask for it. For many years had I now made all my father's
ricks of hay and corn, and the wheat-ricks were the admiration of the
whole country. I also thatched many of them; that is, I made the ricks by
day, and I frequently thatched them by night, or at least before the
common labourers came to work in the morning. I was never tired of labour
and active exertions; and at this period, the labourers possessed all the
strength and vigour of the English peasantry of former days.
Notwithstanding they began to feel the effects of war and to suffer some
privations, in consequence of the rise of price in provisions, caused by
the increase of taxation, they had yet a barrel of good beer to go to in
hay-making and harvest time, and the young men at least could gain a
comfortable subsistence of the necessaries of life by their daily labour.
Few of them, indeed, could now boast of a "pig in the sty," a treasure
which they had, till very lately, always possessed; yet they could
occasionally purchase a pound of bacon or other meat, although at a very
considerable increase in the price. They soon, however, felt, and keenly
felt, that their condition was altered, and was still rapidly altering for
the worse, they consequently grew less tractable and cheerful in their
dispositions; they went to their daily labour with more reluctance, and
became more sullen and discontented as their privations increased; but
still they were not emaciated, and become languid and weak, as most of
them now are, for the want of a sufficiency of the common necessaries of
life. As a proof of this, I will mention a day's work done by myself and
three others, all of whom are now alive, and living in the parish of
Euford; but, alas! how altered, how wretched in circumstances, compared to
what they were at the time respecting which I write, when they were able
and willing to do, and did accomplish, as much work with great ease in one
day, as would now occupy them, I am sure, for four days. In fact, such is
the alteration in their state, from having lived so badly, and worked so
hard for the last twenty years, that they are become so reduced in bodily
strength, that they would now feel more fatigue in doing one quarter of
the work in a day than they did in performing the whole at that time. The
names of the men are Barnaby Marshal, Thomas Ayres, and James Pinnels.
These three men and myself have frequently winnowed large heaps of corn in
a day, and we once accomplished the winnowing sixty sacks of wheat in one
day--thirty sacks being considered a good day's work for four men. In one
instance, two men in each of two adjoining barns had thrashed a very large
heap of wheat, which had yielded so well, that we estimated each heap to
contain _forty sacks_ of the best wheat, and every one calculated upon its
being two smart day's work to winnow it. However, on the day appointed to
winnow one of these heaps, some time in the beginning of May, myself and
some young friends in the neighbourhood, had agreed to meet in the
evening, for the purpose of shooting rooks; I therefore requested the
three persons above named to be in readiness to begin winnowing at or soon
after five instead of six o'clock in the morning. The winnowing tackle was
prepared over night, I had got the doors of the barn open before hand, and
not one of them was behind the time appointed, they well knowing that the
exhilarating jug of "nut brown ale" would not be wanting upon such an
occasion. As the church clock struck five every man was at his post, and
the merry van went briskly round. As each well knew his duty, so that no
labour should be lost, we had made such rapid progress by six o'clock,
that is to say in one hour, that Ayres in a joke said, "If we continue at
this rate, master, we shall be able to finish both heaps instead of one."
A joke of that sort was never thrown away upon me, and accordingly, I
immediately adopted the idea; for having once conceived a project, I never
hesitated, but instantly began to put it in execution. I said that it was
certainly two good day's work for four _common men_, but if they would
back me, we would see if _we_ could not do two good days work in _one_
day. My fellow workmen, who were become almost as great enthusiasts as
myself, spontaneously replied, "With all our hearts, master, if you say
the word we will try, we are not afraid to attempt any thing you will
undertake." Two more men were employed to bring the heap from the other
barn, and add it to that which we had begun, and the result was, that when
the clock struck six in the evening, we, four of us had completely
winnowed and finished eighty-one sacks of best wheat, besides tailing, and
had loaded the waggon with thirty of them for market the next day. I
having carried the thirty sacks into the waggon myself, now washed,
cleaned, and dressed myself, and had joined my friends in the field,
partaking of the sport of rook shooting, before half-past six in the
evening; and I took care that my three fellow-labourers should be rewarded
with the first three dozen of young rooks that were killed. As a proof
that the corn was well winnowed, my father sold it at the next market-day,
at Devizes, for three shillings per sack higher than any other sample in
the market.
I now met with a very great loss, as my worthy friend and preceptor, Mr.
Carrington, the curate, with whom I had passed so many pleasant hours, and
from whom I had received so much valuable information, and such good and
useful advice, was about to leave the vicarage of Enford, he having been
offered, and accepted, the situation of tutor to the sons of the Earl of
Berkley, and as this was the likely road to preferment, I rejoiced in his
success, although I very much lamented his absence. He was, to say the
least of him, an excellent neighbour and a very worthy man. He was
cheerful, amiable, and conciliating in his manners; he possessed a very
superior understanding, which he had much improved and embellished by his
application to the study of the most useful and refined literature, he
having received a very liberal education; and though he was an excellent
classical scholar he was neither a pedant nor a bigot; he lived a moral,
sober, and rational life, worthy the example of his parishioners, and
although he was not enabled to be very bountiful, having only sixty pounds
a year as his salary, and his house to live in; he nevertheless honestly
paid every one as he went, and saved some small trifle for a wet day. By
all his neighbours he was much beloved, and his society much courted by
those who knew how to estimate the value of a superior mind, and an
enlightened and comprehensive understanding. He took great delight in
imparting to me the knowledge which he had acquired, and when he left the
parish of Enford, no one felt his loss more acutely or lamented it more
sincerely than I did. Because he had the sense and the penetration to
discover, and the honesty to reprobate the fatal mad-headed measures of
Mr. Pitt, he was denounced by the vulgar, the ignorant, and the bigotted,
by the venal and by the corrupt as a Jacobin; but he was admired by all
good and liberal men of all parties, and his society was courted by every
rational, thinking, and intelligent man in the country round where he
lived. The society that I met at his house was my greatest solace and
comfort after the fatigues and the labours of the day. I was always
welcome, and I never passed an hour in his society without having gained
some useful information, or some substantial accomplishment.
Many of the young people of the village, who did not associate much with
Mr. Carrington, and who were neither capable of appreciating his merits,
nor of deriving pleasure from his refined society, were delighted to find
that there was a gay young buck of a Clergyman, just returned from Oxford,
who was to occupy the situation of my worthy friend. But, alas, what a
contrast! I did not expect to find such another kind and amiable companion
and friend as him that I had lost; but I anticipated that he would be a
scholar, and a man of the world, and at all events a suitable associate
for myself. But, as he is no more, I shall be very brief: he was, in a
word, in every thing the reverse, the very opposite of Mr. Carrington. The
Sunday arrived, and my father, as the principal person in the village,
always anxious to be the first to shew his attention to a stranger, and
particularly when that stranger was clothed in the dress of _Pastor_ of
the parish, waited upon him at the Inn or Pot-House, where he had taken up
his quarters, and not only invited him to dine, but also offered him a bed
and a stall for his horse till he was better provided at the Vicarage. I,
of course, accompanied my father, and we had little difficulty in getting
over the first introduction. He was a young man of easy manners and
address, and without the least ceremony, accepted the invitation to dine,
&c; but he informed us, that he had made a bargain, and had taken lodgings
and intended to board, with the landlady at the Swan, as he could not bear
the thoughts of living in a dull country Vicarage House by himself. We
went to Church, where he _dashed through_ the service in _double quick
time_, and "tipped us," as he had previously informed me he would, a
_Rattling Sermon_, as a specimen of his style of oratory. He appeared a
clever thoughtless youth, of Twenty-five; but the rake, as my father said,
"stood confessed in his eye," and its effects sat visible upon his brow.
After dinner he took his wine like a _Parson_, and before he had finished
a bottle he was as drunk as a _Lord_; so much so, that he was utterly
incapable of performing the afternoon duty without exposing his situation
to the whole congregation. My father was shocked at his indiscretion, and
sent a hasty excuse to put off the afternoon service. As drunkenness was
not encouraged, nor even tolerated, in my father's house, he was very
anxious to conceal the circumstance of the young Parson having become so
much intoxicated at his table as to be incapable of performing his duty;
and he felt it the greater disgrace, as he was the principal
Church-warden, as well as the principal parishioner. I took the hopeful
and Reverend young gentleman, who had been so recently inspired by the
_Holy Ghost_ to take Priest's Orders, a walk into the fields, to recover
him a little, as my father thought him a very improper guest to introduce
into the drawing-room to his daughters. In the course of our walk he
professed a very sincere and warm friendship for me, and promised himself
a world of pleasure in my society; and he frankly and unblushingly
informed me, that he had brought with him from Oxford a bad venereal
complaint, which, he added, was most unfortunate, as he was fearful that
he should inoculate all the pretty damsels belonging to his new flock,
which would be a _cursed Bore_.
I premised by saying that I should be very brief, but I fear that some of
my moral male, as well as all my female, readers will think that as to
this young Clergyman of the Church of England I have already said too
much; but sorry am I to declare that in the little which I have said, I
have drawn his character too faithfully. He lived but a short time; having
soon fallen a victim to his profligate course of life. He was little more
than a year, I think, the Pastor of the Parish, and he administered the
sacrament, and performed all the other offices of the Curate, when the
effects of his drinking did not interfere with it, and during this time he
always lodged at the public house. This was a sad example for the people
of the parish! The young farmers were already too much addicted to
drinking, but they had been heretofore kept in check, and under some sort
of controul, by the admonition and by the example of their late Clergyman,
who, during all the years that he had resided there, was never known to be
intoxicated, or in any way, disguised in liquor. To be sure he was a
_Jacobin_, but he was, nevertheless, a _sober, moral, amiable Man_; and,
although he was no bigot, he most strictly, regularly, and rigidly
performed the sacred duty he had undertaken, with great satisfaction to
his parishioners, and with great credit to himself, as a Man, a Clergyman,
and a Christian. But, during the life of his successor, they had no
Jacobin; he was a furious Church and Kingman, although a complete free
thinker over his cups, and would get drunk and roar God save the King with
any drunken loyalist in the district; and, to shew his zeal in this way,
he entered and served as a private, and dressed in the uniform, of the
Everly troop of yeomanry Cavalry just raised. He was, however, too
enervated and too emaciated to acquire any knowledge of the military
exercise; and, what was rather remarkable, there was another young sprig
of the Church to keep him in countenance, who was also a private in the
same troop of yeomanry. Although I sometimes made one of the bacchanalian
party of our Curate, yet I felt most severely the difference between this
society and that of Mr. Carrington.
Upon the death of this infatuated young man, another Curate was sent down
by the Vicar, who was the Rev. John Prince, the Chaplain to the Magdalen,
and who it was thought would be more particular in the choice of those
with whom he trusted the care of the souls of his parishioners. Our new
Curate arrived fresh from Oxford, and as he brought letters of
recommendation to my father, from the Vicar, who was a very worthy and a
most circumspect man, he invited him to his house, and he proved to be a
much more rational young man than his predecessor. Though he did not
evince any great knowledge of the world, yet he had mixed in good society,
and I promised myself a great acquisition in his acquaintance. We soon,
however, found that he had not been educated at Oxford for nothing; he had
acquired a habit of taking his bottle freely, and, as he had not a very
hard head, he was frequently very much intoxicated before his more robust
neighbours were scarcely yet warmed with their glasses. This was a
dreadful misfortune for my young friend, as well as for myself, for he was
an intelligent young man when he was sober; but, the moment the wine began
to operate, he was one of the completest fools in christendom; he was then
as great as a king, and always when he was the most contemptible, he
fancied himself a very great man, and never failed to boast of his
superiority of education, and his having taken his degree at Christ
Church. This he was always sure to do when he had lost the little talent
and intellect that he possessed when he was sober. At the very moment that
he was looked upon with a degree of mingled _pity_ and _contempt_ by those
around him, he was sure to assume a ridiculous superiority over his more
rational companions; merely, as he professed, because he was brought up at
college.
There was about this time great talk of an invasion by the French. The
ministers, having granted large subsidies, and having imposed new taxes,
found it necessary to frighten John Bull with the idea of being invaded.
Great alarm was therefore excited throughout the country; volunteer corps
and troops of yeomanry were raising all over the island. Provisions had by
this time increased in price, every article of common consumption was
nearly doubled, and great dissatisfaction was evinced amongst the
labouring poor; there were riots in many parts of the country, and much
mischief was done by burning wheat-ricks, and pulling down mills, in
consequence of the high price of bread. But the dread of invasion was in
every one's mouth, and nothing else was talked of. I, therefore, was one
who anticipated nothing less than an immediate attempt, and I applied to
my father, and requested that he would purchase me a proper charger, and
let me enter into a troop of the yeomanry cavalry. He expostulated and
strongly urged me to desist, and he repeated his former arguments; but I
replied that I was ashamed to stand by and to look on, with my arms
folded, while all the youth and vigour of the country were flying to arms
in order to repel the expected attempts of a desperate and powerful
invading foe. He endeavoured to convince me of the folly of my enthusiasm,
urging that most of those who had enrolled themselves in the yeomanry,
were solely actuated by a desire to take care of their own property, that
they were impelled to take up arms merely by selfish motives, and without
possessing a spark of the _amor patriæ_. He recalled to my recollection
the immense sacrifices made by our forefather, Colonel Thomas Hunt, in the
reign of the Charles's; he pointed out the noble domains and productive
estates that were confiscated by Cromwell, in consequence of my ancestor's
zeal in the cause of his prince, and he begged me to remember how he was
rewarded for his services; asking me what reason I had to expect a better
fate, or a higher reward, than my forefather had obtained for all his
exertions, dangers, and sacrifices, which were the loss of his estates and
the ingratitude of the prince that he so faithfully served?
All this might be, and was very true, but I reasoned with myself thus: My
forefather took up arms in favour of a tyrant, to support him in most
arbitrary measures against his own countrymen; but my only wish is to arm
myself against a foreign invader, whose great object I am told is to
enslave after having conquered the people of my native land. All reasoning
with me was consequently in vain. I had made up my mind not to stand idle
and be a looker-on in such times; the fervour of my youth had been worked
upon by the delusion of the day, and it would not admit of this restraint;
therefore, without farther ceremony, in spite of my father's
expostulations, I enrolled my name as a member of the Everly Troop of
Yeomanry, under the command of the _gallant_ Captain ASTLEY. I knew the
Captain to Be a poor creature, and as little cut out for a warrior as any
man I had ever met with; he was built like Ajax, but as for skill or
valour I believed him to possess neither. I had, however, no fears of
being left to be led into the field of battle by the worthy justice. In
case it should ever come to that issue, I had no doubt that proper and
experienced officers would be appointed to lead us on. I bought an
excellent thoroughbred charger, near sixteen hands high; for, although my
own horse was a very good one, and better than eight out of ten in the
troop, yet, as he was rather under the regulation size, I was determined
to be as well mounted as any man in the regiment, and as I was well known
to be a good rider, and a bold and determined fox-hunter, the captain was
very much delighted with what he was pleased to call a "wonderful
acquisition to his corps." My father also, now I was entered, was as
anxious as myself that I should not be outdone by any one. I therefore
immediately employed a drill serjeant, who was engaged to instruct the
troop in their exercise, and who had been drilling them for some time
past; and before the first field-day arrived for me to attend, my
instructor pronounced me fit for service, and as well disciplined as any
man in the troop. Perhaps I had bestowed as much pains, and had spent as
much time, as any of them, though I had been drilled only for about a
fortnight, for I was at it every day two or three hours. In truth, I was
an apt scholar, and being already an excellent horseman, and extremely
active, I could before I had ever joined, perform most of the evolutions,
and, as the serjeant said, do any thing as well as himself. He told me
that in many of my brother soldiers I should meet with some stupid heavy
fellows, and that he could teach me more in a day than many of them would
learn in a year. The following Monday was appointed for us to assemble and
have a field day, when CAPTAIN ASTLEY and LIEUTENANT SIR JOHN METHUEN
POORE, who had gone to London for the purpose, were expected to attend,
armed _cap-a-pie_, and dressed complete in their NEW UNIFORM, as a
specimen of what we were in future to wear.
The reader will recollect that I am now about to give a faithful history
of my military services; and I must therefore entreat his indulgence,
while I put upon record some such circumstances, and occurrences as he
will be little prepared to hear, unless it have been his fate to be a
member of some volunteer corps, under the command of such officers as
Captain ASTLEY, Lieutenant Sir John POORE, and Cornet DYKE. Without
farther comment then, the two gallant officers, ASTLEY, and POORE, started
the week before to London, to superintend the making, and to arrange with
the army taylor the particulars of the _uniform_. Having been very
particular in getting the taylor, breeches-maker, boot, and even
spur-maker, to fit them to a T, on the Friday they both appeared,
accoutred from head to toe, at Edmonds's, Somerset coffee house, in the
Strand, and really cut no small "swell" as they marched up and down the
coffee room. They would then take a turn down the Strand, as far as Exeter
Exchange, and if, luckily for him, Polito had seen them, he might possibly
have made a good bargain by chewing them amongst the other wild beasts
which he exhibited to the wondering multitude. They next showed off in
full uniform, with their broad swords by their sides, in the front boxes
of Drury Lane Theatre; and, as the Wiltshire was one of the first
regiments of yeomanry that was raised and clothed, they excited no small
curiosity amongst the Londoners. On Saturday morning they again entered
the coffee room in all their trappings, and having each purchased a brace
of excellent pistols, they appeared eager to begin the campaign without
waiting the arrival of the French troops; and as Clark and Haines, two
notorious highwaymen were at[10] this time levying their nightly
contributions upon Hounslow Heath, they more than hinted their intention
of capturing or killing these desperadoes, in case they should fall in
with them during their march down into the country, which they had given
due notice they intended to commence on that afternoon.
About two o'clock, the captain's travelling carriage and four was brought
to the door of the coffee house. These circumstances were detailed to me
by a gentleman present, and who really was rather alarmed at their warlike
appearance and war-disposed manner and language. Having seated themselves
with all their military finery in the carriage, they carefully placed
their _two brace of horse pistols_ in the front pocket, taking care to
leave the _butt-ends_ sticking out, threateningly visible to every eye
that surveyed them. A crowd was collected round the carriage to witness
the departure of these mighty warriors, whose appearance denoted a most
determined conflict, in case any thing should occur to give them an
opportunity of showing how worthy they were to command, and to lead into
the heat of battle a body of their countrymen, who were "seeking the
bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth." About four o'clock they
arrived at the Bush at Staines, having taken care to pass Hounslow Heath,
the half-anticipated scene of action, by day light. Having by this piece
of generalship escaped the danger so far, they slept that night at Mr.
White's excellent inn at Staines' Bridge. The next morning, Sunday, after
taking a good breakfast, dressed and armed as before, in all their
military array, they took up their pistols, which had been placed by them
on the table, and then adjourned into the garden, whence they fired them
into the Thames, at once to try how true they would carry the balls, and
to give notice to the surrounding and astonished passengers upon the
bridge that they travelled like warriors, prepared for any emergency that
might arise. Having re-loaded their pistols in the presence of Mr. Joseph
White, and each of them taken a glass of noyeau to exhilarate their
spirits, the horses were ordered too, and the carriage was now brought to
the front door. Having taken another turn round the bowling green in the
garden, to exhibit themselves to the gaping multitude, who were now
collected in considerable numbers upon the bridge, brought thither in
consequence of the discharging of pistols on a Sunday morning, and who
were waiting to see their departure, they entered the carriage in the same
formal manner as they had done at the door of the Somerset coffee house,
and having carefully and deliberately placed their pistols again in the
front pocket, with their but-ends, as before, appearing very prominent out
of the chaise window, they proceeded on their march with a sort of solemn
gravity, which excited the surprise of some few, but the laughter of the
greater portion, of their beholders.
It was on a Sunday morning, about eight o'clock, when they started from
Staines in this warlike attitude; their helmets glittering in the sun,
like the peacock vain of his plumes. They, however, little dreamt of the
disaster that was in store for them. Having passed Virginia Water, and as
the postboy was taking them leisurely along up the steep hill leading to
Bagshot, who should ride up to the side of the chaise but a single
highwayman, who, having ordered the boy to halt, deliberately demanded
their money and watches. The yeomanry heroes looked at each other, and
then at their pistols; but neither of them had the power of putting forth
a hand to grasp either of them. The highwayman again hastily demanded his
prize, which was immediately granted, our heroes handing over to him their
purses, containing about sixty guineas and two valuable family gold
watches. It is said that Sir John Poore, after having recovered a little
from the fright, endeavoured to raise his inconsolable companion from the
stupor in which this sad misfortune had left him, by repeating the
following lines of Hudibras:
"He that fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day;
But he that is in battle slain,
Can never live to fight again,"
_Capt. Astley_, who was too much absorbed in ruminating upon his
melancholy situation to give his friend any other answer than a long and
deep sigh, could not but most sensibly feel that they were in a still
worse plight than the knight of the rueful countenance ever was; for they
had run away without having made any fight at all. So ashamed were they of
their misadventure, that they would not have mentioned it to any one, had
they not been compelled to disclose it to the landlords of the various
inns they had to pass; for the unmannerly fellow had not even left them a
tester to pay the turnpikes.