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RURAL (ECONOMY OF ENGLAND. 
 
Ancient Trees, at the south border of " Burnham Beeches. 
 
L 
 
 COLLECTED PAPERS, 
 
 (ORIGINAL AND KEPRINTED,) 
 
 |ii Uros^ antr Uerst, 
 
 1842-1862. 
 
 By MRS. GROTE. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 1862. 
 
 [y/je rlyhl of iraiisLaiioii ia reserved.^ 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE LATE ARY SCHEFFER. 
 
 Second Edition, with Portrait, Post 8vo, 8s. 6d. 
 

 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 The desire of preserving from oblivion some literary 
 productions, which may possibly interest, if not 
 instruct, a certain class of thoughtful readers, has sup- 
 plied the motive for the present publication. Among 
 the number, some few relate to political events of 
 which the public have ceased to take account. Never- 
 theless, it is no unprofitable task to recal attention 
 to a bygone condition of things, wherein the germ of 
 actual results may be discerned. To compare the 
 past with the present, and to trace the inexorable 
 connexion of cause and effect, is always an occupation 
 becoming a reflecting mind. And I will venture to 
 observe that, vain as may be the attempt to fore- 
 shadow the course of political events in these days 
 of surprises, I am confirmed in my vicAvs of the 
 probable prospective changes in the position of the 
 " Eastern question," by all that is now going for- 
 ward in countries more or less subject to Ottoman 
 rule. 
 
 As to the opinions, political, economic, and social. 
 
 370 
 
iv INTRODUCTION. 
 
 comprised in these my " Essays and Reviews," I can 
 only say that they are the product of many years of 
 attentive study, pursued with an honest desire to 
 arrive at sound and solid convictions on various 
 subjects of vital interest to my country. 
 
 H. G. 
 
 London, October, 1862. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 REVIEW OF M. LAVERGNES ESSAY ON THE RURAL CECONOJIY 
 
 OF ENGLAND . 1 
 
 CASE OF THE POOR AGAINST THE RICH FAIRLY STATED . 43 
 
 REVIEW OF THOMAS MOORE's LIFE AND WORKS (REPRINTED 
 
 FROM NO. CII. OP THE "EDINBURGH REVIEW") . . 81 
 
 HISTORY OF EAST BURNHAM . . . . . .133 
 
 ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN . . . . . .189 
 
 VARIOUS PAPERS CONTRIBUTED TO THE " SPECTATOR" WEEKLY 
 
 NEWSPAPER. 1845 — 1852 : — 
 
 POMMERSFELDEN ....... 205 
 
 CHARACTER OF THE REV. SYDNEY MITH , . .210 
 
 FRENCH POLITICS ....... 215 
 
 THE CITIZEN PEER . 224 
 
 A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROPE .... 227 
 
 THE " situation" ....... 235 
 
 A RURAL EXCURSION IN FRANCE .... 240 
 
 THE WAR FROM AN UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW . 246 
 
 AN ENGLISH RAMBLE ..... 
 
 259 
 271 
 
 POETICAL pieces: 
 
 JOHN HAMPDEN ...... 
 
 TO LADY THERESA LEWIS . . . . .277 
 
 FELIX MENDELSSOHN ...... 278 
 
 STANZAS ON FELIX MENDELSSOHN .... 279 
 
 LINES TO JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT . . . 280 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY MORE THAN ONE RECENT 
 DOMESTIC HISTORY ..... 
 
 THE LAW OF MARRIAGE ..... 
 
 281 
 284 
 
RURAL (ECONOMY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 1. Essai sur I'Economie rurale de VAngleterre. Par M. Leonce 
 
 de Lavergne, de I'lnstitut. 1854. 
 
 2. Gishornes JSssaj/s on Agriculture. 1843. 
 
 3. Coleman s Visit to England. 1850. 
 
 4. Un Voyage a Londres. 1851. 
 
 Foreign travellers, in shoals, have printed and pub- 
 lished their impressions of the British Isles ; we have 
 had our portraits painted in all conceivable styles, 
 whilst our national vanity has certainly been 
 ministered to by admiring strangers in a way to 
 satisfy the most exigent John Bull amongst us. At 
 the same time, it is as well to admit that some of the 
 Continental ramblers who have visited our shores, 
 pretend to have discovered many imperfections in the 
 social arrangements of England which justly dis- 
 pleased them and offended their taste : with one or 
 two of these dissentients we intend one day to have a 
 passing word, but our chief purpose in approaching 
 the subject of foreign criticism upon the British people 
 and their domestic economy, is to present, in some- 
 what of a prominent manner, the remarkable work 
 which stands at the head of this article, by M. Leonce 
 de Lavergne, Ex-Prof, at Coll. Agron. of Versailles. 
 The book would seem to have been written, in great 
 part, with a design to convey information and instruc- 
 tion to his own countrymen, especially those engaged 
 
 B 
 
2 EUIJAL aCCONOMY 
 
 in agriculture. Long inclined to a belief in the 
 superior science and advancing progress of English 
 husbandry, the author resolved to examine into it 
 personally, and having devoted some time to the 
 work of inquiry and observation — constantly taking 
 notes of what he saw and learned — he has digested 
 his views at leisure into a comprehensive form ; 
 drawing parallels or contrasts, according as the case 
 suggested, between the rural economy of France and 
 that of England. It is hardly necessary to add that 
 the comparisons run a good deal in our favour ; their 
 backward science, and the incomplete methods pursued 
 by a large proportion of French cultivators, being 
 repeatedly adverted to, with obvious regret, not to 
 say humiliation. To incite our neighbours to 
 improved efforts being, as has been stated, one of 
 the leading aims of the author, he never hesitates to 
 place in the broad light of contrast, sometimes of 
 ridicule, the shortcomings of those amidst whom it 
 is his fortune to dwell. And if lucid exposition, 
 practical appeals to their interest, and counsels 
 inspired by a thorough comprehension of the subject, 
 could awaken the emulation or quicken the appre- 
 hension of the French " paysan," this book ought to 
 make a sensible impression upon that numerous body. 
 Indeed, we have reason to believe that it has already 
 done so, and that it is obtaining considerable circula- 
 tion. Meanwhile, our own people will do well to 
 study in the pages before us, the history as well as 
 the theory and practice of modern improvements in 
 husbandry. In a picture traced by the hand of a 
 stranger, curiosity blends itself with the simple 
 appetite for knoAvledge, and we become as interested 
 
OF ENGLAND. 3 
 
 in his account of " short-horns," " new Leicesters," 
 and " improved South Downs," as though it were 
 untrodden ground. 
 
 In setting forth the principal features which 
 distinguish the agriculture of England from that of 
 his own nation, M. Lavergne naturally attaches the 
 highest importance to the introduction of the Norfolk 
 husbandry, with its wide-spread system of root cul- 
 ture, and its green crops : enabling the cultivator to 
 dispense in a great measure with fallows, to rear a 
 much larger number of animals, and to hasten their 
 arrival at maturity. 
 
 The author estimates the number of sheep 
 maintained in the British islands and in France as 
 double in amount to what it was a century since. 
 In 1750, the number in each kingdom respectively 
 was about seventeen to eighteen million head ; whilst 
 the total now existing he sets at thirty-five millions. 
 But here the equality stops ; the extent of ground 
 devoted to the maintenance of our flocks being, he 
 says, equivalent to thirty-one millions of hectares, 
 whilst in France it must be set at not less than fifty- 
 three millions ! And this striking fact becomes yet 
 more instructive when we learn that " Ensfland 
 proper" feeds about thirty out of the thirty-five 
 millions of sheep on fifteen millions of hectares;* 
 Ireland and Scotland furnishing between them the 
 remainder, in the proportion of two and four, speak- 
 ing in round numbers. 
 
 From this one element of agricultural progress is 
 deducible a whole series of results, of which M. 
 
 A hectare is nearly equal to two and a-half Englisli acres. 
 
 b2 
 
4 KURAL CECONOMY 
 
 Laverirne exhibits tlie advanta":es accruinf'' to the 
 general eommuiiity ; impressing upon his country- 
 men the necessity of adopting, as far as circumstances 
 enable them to do so, the cycle of operations pursued 
 by their energetic neighbours. "It is said of us," 
 remarks M. Lavergne, " that we do not care to feed 
 on animal food, preferring vegetables and farinaceous 
 substances; that we eat rye rather than wheat, for 
 the same reason. The fact is, that we eat what our 
 farmers can manage to grow for our subsistence. 
 They cannot rear oxen, sheep, or swine in such 
 numbers as to bring meat within the reach of the 
 lower class, because they have nothing to give them 
 during winter; and we eat rye simply because we 
 cannot grow enough wheat, or even oats, of which to 
 make bread of a more nourishing quality." 
 
 In truth, rye is treated by M. Lavergne as the 
 most profitless and contemptible of all products. 
 " It would be most desirable," he says, " to abandon 
 it, but this is not always possible.* It is one thing 
 to renounce rye, and another to raise better corn 
 successfully, for it is not every one who is capable of 
 forcing nature. The English, in order to achieve 
 what they have done in the way of wheat culture, 
 have been obliged to fight against the qualities of 
 their soil as well as of their climate" (p. 70); and he 
 goes on to insist further upon the policy of raising 
 wheat only in situations and on land favourable to 
 its growth and its ripening, — one of the principles now 
 steadily adhered to by our best agriculturalists, in pur- 
 
 * See also a passage (page 187) in the chapter on " Les Debouches" 
 (markets), full of sensible and acute observations on this head. 
 
OF ENGLAND. 
 
 siiance of which, in combination with improved methods 
 of cultivation, a smaller surface seems to suffice for 
 its growth with us, than would formerly have been 
 supposed possible. M. Lavergne states that whereas, 
 in France, one-fourth of the ground under cultiva- 
 tion is required for the growth of cereals destined 
 for human food, in these islands one-sixteenth of the 
 soil under plough suffices to yield such an amount of 
 wheat as it consists with good husbandry to raise. 
 The annual produce of cereals in France is thus stated 
 by our author : wheat, seventy millions of hectolitres ; 
 rye, thirty millions ; maize, seven millions ; buck- wheat, 
 eight millions. The yield of wheat, upon the 1,800,000 
 hectares devoted to that grain in the British Isles, is 
 given as forty-five millions of hectolitres, of which 
 thirty-eight millions are grown in England at a rate 
 of produce per acre fully double that of France. 
 
 Passing from the all-important feature of root 
 crops, on which the whole circle of scientific farming 
 now revolves, M. Lavergne explains in his chapters 
 on sheep and cattle the circumstances which have led 
 to the wondrous amelioration of our domestic animals. 
 In that section which treats of cattle, many instruc- 
 tive observations abound, mingled with a minute 
 exposition of the merits of our various breeds. 
 Indeed, the manner in which the author, up to a 
 recent period wholly occupied with the highest 
 functions of a political career, deals with the subject 
 of cattle management, attests a singular aj^titude for 
 masterhig new and dissimilar subjects. He seizes, 
 and expatiates upon what may be termed the 
 philosophy of " Grazing," with a perspicacity worthy 
 of one whose life has been absorbed in the calling. 
 
6 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 He, like most modern agriculturists, is an advocate of 
 "stall feeding" for cattle; or, as we have heard a 
 friend humorously style it, " the subjecting cattle to 
 a fixed position, upon bare boards, in a current of 
 cold air." The fact is that ideas of profit, when once 
 they have obtained possession of a farming mind, 
 carry all before them; thus a French traveller, 
 naturally smitten with the desire of emulating our 
 practice, and appreciating the merit of skilful adap- 
 tation of "means to ends," readily falls in with this 
 universally recognised aim — viz., the making of money 
 by the shortest process. On other grounds, we 
 confess ourselves inclined to look with complacency 
 upon the old system of warm and clean litter, coupled 
 with the liberty of turning about. But we must not 
 give way to kindly, antiquated prejudices, in the 
 face of tabular demonstrations of profitable results, 
 such as are supplied b}^ the apostles of a later school. 
 
 The names of Bakewell, Ellman, and Collins, have 
 here derived an additional chance of enduring fame 
 and honour, by the mention of wdiat they have 
 effected for the improvement of English domestic 
 animals. Of the former of these, M. Lavergne speaks 
 as " a man of genius in his way, who has done as 
 much to augment the wealth of his country as either 
 Arkwright or Watt." (p. 22.) 
 
 The value of Bakewell and his disciples' system, 
 consisted, he tells us, in persevering " selection." 
 Individuals combining the properties of rapid growth, 
 disposition to acquire flesh and to assume rounded, 
 handsome forms, were alone permitted to reproduce 
 their kind; and by attentive, unwearied noting of 
 their experiments for a series of years, these eminent 
 
OF ENGLAND. 7 
 
 breeders of stock succeeded in arrivino; at the desired 
 combination of qualities — the " Dishley," or New 
 Leicester sheep, the " Short-horned," or Teeswater bull 
 and cow, and the improved South Down sheep, being 
 at the present time regarded as realizing the utmost 
 perfection of which each class of animal is susceptible. 
 ]\I. Lavergne seems not to have been aware of an 
 opinion entertained by the late Mr. Thos. Gisborne, 
 which is stated in that gentleman's " Essays," recently 
 collected and published under the supervision of his 
 friend, Mr. Joseph Parkes. He believes that " breeds" 
 are destined to pass away, but that " races" are 
 eternal. In other words, that a given type of animal 
 will reproduce itself, in strict conformity with its 
 original character, through ages ; whilst that " breeds," 
 formed by artificially crossing, and selecting the re- 
 producers, will revert to the pristine type so soon as 
 they are left to themselves. This is a physiological 
 question which, though chiefly interesting to the 
 curious inquirer, is not without value to the stock- 
 farmer, and we should like to see it taken up by our 
 scientific class. Another theory, very lately started 
 respecting the disease called " fingers and toes," pre- 
 valent among turnips chiefly, happens to proceed upon 
 a somewhat analogous hypothesis. Assuming our 
 actual edible bulbous roots to be nothing but improved 
 forms of an originally wild and far inferior plant, 
 this theory supposes " fingers and toes" to be neither 
 more nor less than a struggle on the part of the 
 genteel modern turnip to get back to his homely 
 origin; diving down in a tapering, and often bifur- 
 cate root, as its remote and indigenous progenitors 
 had always done before him. Tliere is a certain cor- 
 
8 RURAL (ECONOMY 
 
 respondence between this plausible suggestion and 
 the convictions of Mr. Gisborne, and both the one 
 and the other possess that species of attraction for 
 speculative thinkers which alwaj^s attends a reference 
 to universal tendencies in nature. 
 
 The hioh condition of our corn cultivation, our 
 live stock and teams, our buildings, implements, and 
 effective methods of enriching and renewing the latent 
 powers of the soil, call forth in turn the cordial 
 admiration of the French visitor. Supporting his 
 general statements by careful computations, his pic- 
 ture presents a body of information on which the 
 imitators of English systems might safely rely. But 
 whilst M. LaveVgne contemplates, with something 
 akin to wonder, the astonishing march of our 
 modern agricultural movement, he is too wise and 
 reflecting a teacher not to take account of the inhe- 
 rent difficulties Avhich stand in the way of its adop- 
 tion by his own people. It is in this mood that he 
 writes as follows : — 
 
 " The causes which have led to the agricultural 
 superiority of the English, originate in the history 
 and organization of our two nations. The rural 
 economy of a people is not an isolated fact ; it forms 
 one element of a great whole. It is not upon our 
 cultivators that the accountability for our backward 
 condition should be chiefly cast, neither ought we to 
 rely on them altogether for future progress. And it 
 is not so much the concentration of their attention 
 upon the soil itself which will secure progress, as a 
 careful study of the general laws which govern the 
 economic development of a community. 
 
 " Up to this time," he goes on to say, " these 
 
OF ENGLAND. 9 
 
 studies have not been attractive to tliem ; it has been 
 held that such inquiries are fraught with danger to 
 the cultivator. I believe this to be an error, and I 
 trust to show that it is such." (p. 105.) 
 
 Beginning with a quotation from Arthur Young 
 (p. 13), the author of the " Essai" lays down the fact 
 of the infinite superiority of the soil of France over 
 that of England; not content with a general asser- 
 tion, we have a comparison of the most elaborate kind 
 set before us, proving that, tract for tract, zone for 
 zone, the French possess the advantage of a better 
 fundamental element of production. Then their 
 climate is confessedly preferable; and in descanting 
 upon this happy difference in their favour, M. 
 Lavergne obviously finds a secret " dedommagement" 
 for our superiority on some other points. But although 
 the French sun can ripen the ear of corn, can mature 
 all kinds of fruit, and bring to perfection many other 
 precious products — wine, olives, silk, oil, hemp, flax, 
 and the like — nevertheless, as has been remarked 
 already, the one thing needful to " high farming " is 
 wanting. The French eat but little meat, for want 
 of more cattle and flocks and swine ; and they lack 
 manure wherewith to grow thirty and even forty tons 
 of food to the acre, as we manage to do, in favourable 
 years, with our swedes and mangolds. This matter 
 of meat and manure is, in truth, a revolving circle, 
 wherein the great difficult}^- consists in seizing the 
 departing point. ^I. Lavergne maintains that if the 
 farmers occupying cold, moist mountainous tracts in 
 France (of which he indicates no small number) 
 would grow artificial grasses, turnips, carrots, man- 
 golds, and such sort of crops, instead of slaving, as 
 
10 RURAL (ECONOMY 
 
 they do, to extract miserably scanty crops of rye and 
 oats, they could very soon rear animals for food. 
 Animals would yield " engrais," or " dressing," bring 
 capital to the farm, invigorate the labourer, and 
 cause the land to revive under generous treatment. 
 How to begin is the problem, and of course M. 
 Lavergne is at no loss to prescribe the means. 
 Capital must be invited to co-operate more liberally 
 with labour. He would persuade the owners of 
 capital to embark in scientific farming, commencing 
 by degrees, and would engage to justify the enter- 
 prise by its results if properly conducted. But here 
 we come upon the discussion concerning " large and 
 small cultivation," for no change can be thought of 
 in the rural economy of France without fully exploring 
 that thorny question. M. Lavergne has, we think, 
 set it very fairly before his readers, and in a vein of 
 investigation which strikes us as somewhat original. 
 And in the first place our author disputes the fact, or at 
 least denies the extent, of the extravagant subdivision 
 of land in France. We will give his own words : — 
 
 " All the world is familiar with the celebrated 
 calculation, giving eleven millions and a half as the 
 number of ' cotes' (taxable properties in houses and 
 lands) ; but so they are, likewise, with the delusive 
 nature of this calculation, as demonstrated by the 
 researches of M. Passy. Not only does it happen 
 that an individual contributor often pays several 
 ' cotes,' which in itself sufiices to invalidate the 
 general proposition itself; but, furthermore, town 
 habitations equally count as 'cotes,' thus diminishing 
 the actual total of rural proprietors to five, or at most 
 to six millions." (p. 109.) 
 
OF ENGLAND. 11 
 
 " Now," says M. Lavergne, " of the Avliole eleven 
 millions and a- half alluded to as representing the 
 numerical amount of properties, town and country 
 inclusive, half a million, only, possess parcels of the 
 value of one hundred francs, or four pounds; five 
 millions and a-half own parcels of the value of five 
 francs each, two millions at from five to ten francs, 
 three millions at from ten to fifty francs, six hundred 
 thousand from fifty to a hundred francs. But the 
 sum of the land possessed by these eleven millions, 
 consistino; of lots all rancrino; under the value of one 
 hundred francs, reaches only one-third of the entire 
 surface under cultivation." [Pasture and woods 
 being included, we presume.] "Remains, then, two- 
 thirds of it in the hands of four hundred thousand 
 proprietors; deducting one hundred thousand for 
 such owners as possess town lots, this gives an 
 average extent of eighty hectares to each, or two 
 hundred English acres." 
 
 M. Lavergne next endeavours to establish a cor- 
 respondence between this section of the French 
 people and our middle-class and second-class gentry 
 taken together. Granting that the aimual value of 
 land is greater in England, acre for acre, still, he con- 
 tends, the disproportion is less than is usually sup- 
 posed. He sets the share of the soil possessed by 
 our largest proprietors against that of the eleven 
 millions who own a third of all France ; and main- 
 tains that two-thirds in each country are possessed 
 by a class of owners differing from each other far 
 less widely than it has been the habit to represent 
 them. In France, he says — 
 
 " Estates comprising an extent of 500, 1000, and 
 
12 KURAL (ECONOMY 
 
 2000 hectares are far from rare, whilst properties 
 even of 25,000 francs to 100,000 francs a year value, 
 and beyond it, are not unknown. A thousand land- 
 lords in each of our departments might be found, on 
 a level, as to landed property, with the secondary class 
 of English country landlords, which is the one most 
 diffused among them. It is true, we have, propor- 
 tionably speaking, fewer, and they are planted amidst 
 small neighbours; whilst the English gentry live 
 under the shadow of huge aristocratic fiefs. It is 
 only under this aspect — i. e.^ the proportional amount 
 — that it can fairly be affirmed that proj^erty is more 
 concentrated in England than in France." (p. 111.) 
 After exhibiting this view of the actual distribution 
 of the surface, M. Lavergne examines the evidence in 
 favour of large farms, the advantages of which it has 
 recently become so much the fashion to extol ; we 
 regret that we must restrict our extracts in reference 
 to this most vital question, as between " large and 
 little culture" (to translate it literally). The author 
 has treated it with a rare imjDartiality, and our readers 
 will find many valuable facts arranged in a manner 
 to leave the solution easier than has yet seemed to be 
 attainable. Solution, in the sense of decided pre- 
 ference, however, it is not easy to arrive at. But we 
 can, more distinctly than before we perused this 
 chapter, appreciate the bearings of particular circum- 
 stances in determining when large cultivation should 
 prevail, and the converse. M. Lavergne is clearly a 
 partizan of neither. His accurate acquaintance with 
 the whole condition of French husbandry, together 
 with his practical familiarity with various other forms 
 of industrial life, enable him to steer clear of dogmatic 
 
OF ENGLAND. 13 
 
 generalization, and even inspire him with a certain 
 dislike of such as indulge in it. We subjoin a few 
 of his comments on this head. 
 
 " In the same degree as people exaggerate the 
 amount of concentration in England, do they overrate 
 the eiFect of large estates upon the progress of 
 agriculture. Large properties do not necessarily 
 imply large culture. The most considerable of them 
 are not unfrequently split up into small holdings;* 
 Avhat matters it, indeed, though one man do possess 
 10,000 hectares, if they be broken down into 200 
 farms of 50 hectares each? .... We have seen 
 that, in the United Kingdom, two categories prevail; 
 large, and moderate estates. The first class of pro- 
 perties occupying, then, a third of the soil, and part 
 of this being distributed into small lots, or tenantcies, 
 it is obvious that large culture obtains upon no more 
 than one quarter of the whole land. Now is it true 
 that this one quarter is farmed in the highest and 
 
 most skilful style? I suspect not The richest 
 
 districts of England are those of Lancashire, Lincoln- 
 shire, Leicester, Worcester, and Warwickshire; and 
 here a mixed proportion as to culture subsists. In 
 one of the most fertile of these, viz., Lancashire, it is 
 the mean, or possibly even the small, culture which 
 preponderates. Taken as a general fact, it may fairly 
 be affirmed that the best farmed land in the kingdom, 
 Ireland included, is not that belonging to the largest 
 occupants." (p. 114.) 
 
 " In France, again," continues M. Lavergne^ " two 
 
 * See tlie account of the Marquis of Lansdowne's estates in Kerry, 
 of about 100,000 acres, full of sheep walks and bare rock. There 
 were, till lately, 3000 farms upon this ! (p. 449). 
 
14 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 categories likewise appear — middling sized, and great 
 estates. In the former, small cultivation predomi- 
 nates, and these generally exhibit the greatest advance 
 in agricultural aptitude and knowledge. Such is the 
 case in the ' Departement du Nord,' and of the ' Bas 
 Khin,' and indeed in the richest cantons of other 
 departments. With us, division of the land is a 
 means of developing improvement. This results from 
 the national habit of thought. Similar causes produce 
 the like results in other countries; in Belgium, 
 Rhenish Prussia, in Upper Italy, and even in Nor- 
 Avay." (p. 115.) 
 
 " In all countries, with the single exception of 
 Great Britain, overgrown estates have done more 
 mischief than good to agriculture." After assigning 
 the reasons of this, the author adds, " Still, for all 
 that has been advanced, I am ready to admit that 
 the state of landed property in England is more 
 favourable to agricultural prosperity than that of 
 France. It is simply the exaggeration employed on 
 this topic that I have striven to dispel." (p. 116.) 
 
 We must now take leave of this important chapter, 
 with the remark that, after all, there can be no 
 practical utility in proving to the French people the 
 disadvantages of " la petite culture ;" since the subdi- 
 vision and possession of land is among the most 
 unassailable of their national predilections, and is, 
 moreover, linked with that passion for "equality" 
 which, naturally enough, grew out of the intolerable 
 abuse of its opposite down to 1789. We are indeed 
 not disinclined to believe, with M. Lavergne, that 
 where small cultivation is accompanied by capital 
 adequate to keep the land, whatever be its extent, 
 
OF ENGLAND. 15 
 
 " ill heart," there will be found, if not the maximum 
 of profit, the highest average of comfort, content, and 
 independence among the inhabitants. (See page 114, 
 where the condition of things in the island of Jersey 
 is described.) In districts where the above-named 
 condition is wanting, of course the cultivators must 
 be poor, degraded, and embarrassed. Such as these 
 must either learn to exchange their labour for money 
 wages, or remain at the bottom of the scale. M. 
 Lavergiie should begin by preaching to them the 
 expediency of such an industrial revolution, and 
 perhaps capital might presently be induced to unite 
 in its achievement. Eno^lishmen have lived so Ions 
 under an unchanged constitution of things, in con- 
 nexion "svith land, that they commonly go through 
 life with very little inquiry into the practical operation 
 of their laws and customs, or the rights of privileged 
 classes. A foreigner, on the contrary, takes note of 
 every cluster of causes and effects which comes before 
 him, and if he happen to have a philosophic turn of 
 mind (such as M. Lavergne possesses), he endeavours 
 to " map out," as it were, the ramifications of this or 
 that principle throughout the political constitution of 
 the nation which he is studying. He does not hesitate 
 boldly to handle and dissect laws and customs which, 
 to English minds, are consecrated by antiquity, and 
 regarded as inseparable from national prosperity. 
 Sometimes they obtain from the author of the 
 " Essai" unqualified approval — often disapproval; 
 but in every instance the opinions are sustained 
 by reasons, delivered with the unmistakeable accents 
 of a love of truth and a genuine attachment to the 
 social interests of mankind. AVe cannot resist making 
 
16 RURAL ECONOMY 
 
 one extract (from the chapter on the Tenure of Pro- 
 perty) terminating a brief notice respecting the law 
 of inheritance, and the liberty of bequest, so different 
 in our respective countries. 
 
 " Should the period ever arrive in France when it 
 might be granted to the head of a family to exercise 
 more freely the right of bequeathing his property — 
 or should we think fit to restrict by laws the unli- 
 mited distribution of personal property now practised 
 in cases of intestacy — let us hope that considerations 
 tending to favour the formation of large properties 
 will not be suffered to enter into the question. Large 
 estates have not been cut up or absorbed by law in 
 France, but by the revolution ; and not only is their 
 reconstruction by artificial methods impracticable, 
 but, the course things have taken considered, it is 
 extremely doubtful whether it could serve any useful 
 end." (p. 123.) 
 
 The chapter " On the Constitution of Cultivation" 
 (a clumsy phrase enough in English, but still one not 
 easy to render less so) is short, treating in great part 
 of the same subject as the one on " La Propriete." 
 And the same oscillation is here observable in the 
 author's mind as is apparent during his comparison 
 of the two modes of culture (great and small) in the 
 previous chapter. The prodigious results of our 
 skilled farming on a great scale naturally excite his 
 professional sympathies; yet anon the deep-seated 
 feeling which belongs to a Frenchman inclines him to 
 regard small occupations with partiality. 
 
 " Small cultivation (he remarks), as well as small 
 properties, are more congenial to our habits. For- 
 tunes being more divided among us than amongst the 
 
OF ENGLAND. 17 
 
 English, it is expedient to keep the quantity of land 
 occupied, on a suitable level with the amount of 
 capital available for its culture " (p. 133.) 
 
 " There are districts of my country with which I 
 am familiar, where small culture is a curse; others 
 which I could name flourish under it, and would not 
 prosper if farmed on the contrary system." (p. 134.) 
 
 It is, to say the truth, a hard matter to discover 
 how much of change, or of imitation of England, M. 
 Lavergne would wish to bring about in the agricul- 
 tural system of his own countr}^, seeing that he so 
 thoughtfully and impartially scans the actual merits 
 of the latter, taking into account national circum- 
 stances, together with the inveterate attachment of 
 the French to certain social principles. His work 
 reminds us of nothing so much, in fact, as of a person 
 playing three-handed whist with a " dummy" as 
 partner. The author plays, of course, both 
 " hands," and, as a professor of agronomic science is 
 bound to do, tries to "win the trick" with bold, enter- 
 prizing play. " Dummy," on the other hand, holds a 
 " strong suit" in " social equality," as well as some 
 other good cards ; for example, " individual indepen- 
 dence," " models of honest industry," " perfection of 
 small cultivation" (admitted by the author, as we 
 have seen), as exhibited in Flanders, amongst French 
 vine dressers, and the like. Thus, although M. 
 Lavergne is strongly impelled by the predominant 
 passion of the day to recommend the pursuit of 
 agricultural wealth — destined, in its turn, to engender 
 the multiplication of the comforts and advantages 
 of civilization — he nevertheless makes "dummy" play 
 his game with so much effect as to preserve 
 
 c 
 
18 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 himself from one-sided advocacy; and accordingly, 
 ■\ve find him disposed to prescribe none but mode- 
 rate and practicable improvements in the rural 
 economy of his own nation. 
 
 These prescriptions, if we comprehend the author's 
 leanings justly, would consist of the following leading 
 ingredients, mixed and employed with discrimination. 
 
 1. The cultivation of green and root crops wher- 
 ever possible. 2. He would have more care bestowed 
 upon the breeding of sheep and cattle, and would 
 discontinue the employment of oxen and cows in 
 tillage, as a mistaken economy. 3. He would adapt 
 the choice of the products to the nature of the soil 
 and local character of the district (see pp. 134, 135). 
 4. He would persuade the owners of land whose 
 capital is insufficient, to hand it over to the cultivation 
 of tliose who have more, taking rent for the use of it; 
 changing the relations between capital and labour 
 most advantageously, on such parcels of land as re- 
 present the mean ratio between large and small 
 occupations. The French cultivator being forced, 
 under the actual condition of things, to provide the 
 whole apparatus of farming, he is under the necessity 
 of borrowing capital. If an English tenant farmer 
 were thus situated, it would be equally necessary for 
 him also to borrow. But in England the " Squire" 
 furnishes so large a portion of the matter of farm 
 capital, in the form of buildings, repairs, fencing, 
 draining, and the like, that the farmer can apply all 
 his own money to positive cultivation. As a precedent 
 for the transfusion of cultivating proprietors into 
 tenant farmers, M. Lavergne recounts, in a brief but 
 most pertinent manner, the gradual change which the 
 
OF ENGLAND. 19 
 
 present century has witnessed of our yeoman and 
 " statesman" into renters of farms (page 131, and again 
 page 188). He regards the combination of capital 
 with labour as most desirably exhibited in the union 
 of landlord and tenant, as in England, where each 
 party has an interest in the land tilled. In other 
 countries the cultivator, who either has not the means 
 of doing justice to the land, or who is saddled with an 
 obligation to pay interest on the shares possessed in 
 it by his co-heirs (a frequent cause of embarrassment 
 in France), must borrow to carry him through; and 
 thence his chance of bettering his condition becomes 
 next to hopeless. 
 
 The general propensity of French cultivators to 
 get into debt is admitted by our author. But if 
 possessors of capital are willing to lend upon the 
 security of land, there is every reason why they 
 should be encouraged to do so. Check borrowing by 
 the straitened farmer, and you check production. 
 And if you ask why the farmer does not sell, and 
 why the capitalist does not buy, this same land, the 
 answer is obvious — such is the mode, clumsy, if you 
 please to call it so, in which capital and labour are in 
 the habit of co-operating in France. The capitalist 
 prefers to lend rather than cultivate, and the owner 
 clings to possession on any terms. But, as M. 
 Lavergne remarks, land in England is alsg enormously 
 indebted, only that it is the landlord, and not the culti- 
 vator, who borrows. Everyone conversant with English 
 provincial affairs, is aware of the vast extent to which 
 estates are mortgaged. But, he adds, " this is less 
 matter of regret in a rich country, such as England, 
 where the debtors have commonly other sources of 
 
 c 2 
 
20 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 income on which to eke out their living." Still, the 
 fact ou2rht to be borne in mind when we talk so 
 compassionately of the landed property of France 
 being " crippled with debts." We earnestly commend 
 to our reader's attention the whole chapter " Sur les 
 Debouches," where ample and instructive explana- 
 tions abound of the various differences in the eco- 
 nomic condition of the two countries. 
 
 As a relief to the foregoing somewhat dry though 
 instructive speculations, concerning the best modes of 
 holding property in land, and the various conditions 
 under which it may be cultivated, we enter upon 
 what we may describe as the picturesque portion of 
 M. Lavergne's " Essai," entitled " Country Life." 
 But under this general and familiar head there is 
 unpacked and rolled out before us, to our no small 
 surprise, a whole shipload of literary merchandize. 
 And in the face of such a mass of facts and erudite 
 researches, so extensive a knowledge of the works of 
 our poets, such intimate acquaintance with the springs 
 of national life, and the sources of English social 
 peculiarities, — how, we should like to know, is a 
 reviewer to approach the task of furnishing even an 
 outline of this truly comprehensive chapter? We 
 feel that it is beyond our capabilities, yet we must 
 attack it. 
 
 It is, first of all, o\u^ duty to apprise the reader 
 that he will be carried as far back as the " Saxons 
 and Normans" for the origin of that peculiar charac- 
 teristic for which the English are famed — viz., a 
 passion for country life ; he will therefore be prepared 
 for a pretty extensive journey over the field of illus- 
 trative historical gleanings. And he will do wisely to be 
 
OF ENGLAND. 21 
 
 prepared ; for we ourselves, not having been so, were 
 nearly run out of breath in toiling after the author 
 through this maze of black-letter lore. Only think, 
 too, of coming unexpectedly upon a passage so gran- 
 diose as this, when we imagined ourselves to be 
 dealing wdth a quiet treatise upon the " hum-drum 
 toj)ic of farming !" — 
 
 " When the barbarian multitudes came swarming 
 down upon the Roman Empire, from every quarter, 
 they spread themselves over the face of the country," 
 &c. &c. 
 
 Then we have AYilliam the Conqueror and Dooms- 
 day Book, Henry YIIL, Charlemagne, Queen Eliza- 
 beth, Cambrian Bards, Magna Charta, and the like 
 imposing persons and things. They file oif, however, 
 after having opened the piece with a certain amount 
 of solemn parade, and leave us to the comj)any of 
 English gentlemen, and we may add English ladies, 
 for they naturally form one of the features of 
 " country life," as agreeably depicted in this chapter. 
 
 The bearing of the rural habits of our gentry upon 
 the political machine is skilfull}^ sketched, and com- 
 pared with the opposite tastes of the modern French 
 noblesse, w^ho usually prefer spending the winter in 
 towns. We say prefer, although we do not think 
 that they would like towns better, having the same 
 inducements set before them as are present with 
 English country gentlemen ; but their political world 
 is and has been so organized for the last hundred and 
 fifty years, that rural existence has long been, in 
 great part, stripped of its charm and interest for 
 French gentlemen of independent fortune. 
 
 M. Lavergne has penetrated the crust of English 
 
22 RURAL (ECONOMY 
 
 society, thereby acquiring an insight into our pro- 
 vincial mind, such as is exceedingly rare with 
 foreigners. He of course notes, and indeed goes so 
 far as to admire, the complicated but unseen network 
 of j)owers which forms the internal administration 
 of this unique country. He quotes the anecdote 
 of Queen Elizabeth sending back to their "demesnes" 
 her nobles who came throno^ino^ to court, with a 
 metaphor signifying that they would be of more use 
 and importance there than in the capital; and he 
 remarks that neither Henri Quatre nor his grandson 
 would have done as much. The rulers of France, 
 with their narrow, selfish aims, took the most effec- 
 tive course to disgust the territorial aristocracy with 
 provincial life, when they deprived them, step by 
 step, of all local authority and influence, and laid the 
 foundation of the system of carrying on internal 
 government by an army of officials : a system of which 
 we have lived to see the many disastrous consequences. 
 But we must return to M. Lavergne's description 
 of English life, and the contrast it presents to that of 
 the Continental " classes aisees." "Such as the Palace 
 of Chatsworth is, on the grand scale of residences, 
 such is the abode of each private gentleman, only on 
 a lesser footing. The smallest squire must have his 
 ' park,' or park -like enclosure. The number of these 
 sort of residences is enormous, beginning with such 
 as contain some few acres only, and mounting up to 
 others of more than a thousand in extent. ... It 
 is easy to perceive how much tliis habit — so universal 
 with the English — of passing their lives in the country, 
 afi'ects the prosperity of the land itself. Whereas in 
 France it is the produce of the fields which serves to 
 
OF ENGLAND. 23 
 
 maintain the opulence of our cities, in England it is 
 the industrial towns which sustain the progress of 
 husbandry. They enrich the farmer by the demand 
 they furnish, and farming flourishes accordingly. 
 Again, the self-love of the occupier of a country seat 
 will not permit him to neglect the appearance of his 
 farming establishment. Ostentation, in rural England, 
 finds a vent in fine teams, substantial farm buildings, 
 handsome cattle, and the like. A ' crack home farm' 
 ma}', in fact, stand as the equivalent of a splendid 
 'hotel,' luxuriously furnished, in Paris." (page 155.) 
 
 We pass over the comparison between the burthens 
 borne by the land in both countries, although it is set 
 forth with candour, and will be found instructive ; our 
 limits force us to select among the topics treated in 
 the " Essai," and we prefer touching upon the chapter 
 headed " Political Institutions." 
 
 Though short, it is perhaps the one which, by the 
 extent of its range of information, its historical illus- 
 trations, and intelligent commentary, ofibrs the liveliest 
 interest to the student of social economy, of any in the 
 book. How one is led to reflect upon the waves which 
 advance and recede in the course of human afi'airs ; 
 and what striking difi'erences may we not discern in 
 the groups of facts which command the approval of 
 the actual generation of the day, to be contemned and 
 avoided by that of another ! 
 
 Like all foreign interpreters of the causes of our 
 advance in material wealth, M. Lavergne naturally 
 ascribes the largest share in its development to our 
 exemption from internal discord and ruinous revolu- 
 tionary wars. " The eighteenth century, so disastrous 
 throughout for us, exhibits England in a state of con- 
 
24 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 tiiiuous progression ; so that when we at length did 
 make an effort onwards, she had got the start of us by 
 three-quarters of a century." (p. 158.) 
 
 The author affirms that, two hundred years since, 
 France Avas, in every respect, in a better state than 
 England, not even excepting what regarded agricul- 
 ture. Sully, to be sure, formed, in his time, the very 
 antithesis of our modern statesman. He would, we 
 verily think, have hung up the " Bagman," if he had 
 caught him jogging along the highway, instead of 
 crowning him with civic garlands as we now do. On 
 the other hand. Sully was a warm patron of the plough, 
 promoting agricultural industry with all his power, 
 and that with the happiest success. 
 
 " A writer of that period, Olivier de Serres, has 
 bequeathed to us an admirable work, attesting the 
 universal elan (or movement forward); the author, a 
 Protestant nobleman. Seigneur of Pradel in the Viva- 
 rais, had lived retired on his country estates during 
 the religious and political troubles of those times." 
 His book was dedicated to Henri Quatre, and M. 
 Lavergne pronounces it not only the most ancient, 
 but the best treatise extant in modern language! 
 (p. 159.) 
 
 " All recognised maxims of good farming were 
 already known to the contemporaries of Olivier, and 
 his precepts might well serve to guide our own 
 cultivators of to-day." (p. 160.) 
 
 Why France did not persevere in the path of 
 scientific cultivation, and what calamitous hindrances 
 arose on that path, M. Lavergne briefly but impres- 
 sively explains. We would advise our readers to study 
 this portion of his w^ork carefully. A whole book 
 
OF ENGLAND. 25 
 
 could not more clearly trace the course of national 
 decline, and its incontestable causes, than this truly 
 mournful chapter of only a few pages. 
 
 About the period at which Olivier produced his 
 valuable book on Agriculture, French gentlemen of 
 rank and condition habitually spent their lives on 
 their "Terres;" forming, with the labouring classes, 
 a social whole, now remembered only by faint 
 traditions, but the disappearance of which M. 
 Lavero-ne res-ards as a national misfortune.* We 
 happen to have also heard an eminent French writer 
 (M. Alexis de Tocqueville) state this fact as incon- 
 testable, adding that the " debris" of hundreds of 
 country "chateaux," as well as of lesser residences 
 (termed in the provinces " Gen tilhommeries"), still 
 exist in all parts of France. So that the taste for 
 country life was, at a period not farther removed from 
 us than a hundred and fifty years, probably as widely 
 diffused among our neighbours as amongst our own 
 people. We have already said that agriculture, accord- 
 ing to M. Lavergne's opinion, was decidedly better 
 understood by the French than by the English during 
 the seventeenth century, the former even supplying us 
 with corn out of their abundance (p. 162). Subse- 
 quently, however, the picture becomes reversed. 
 Having achieved our great change, from enslavement 
 to constitutional government, in 1688, English pro- 
 ductive industry " draws ahead," whilst the exhausting 
 effect of Louis XIV.'s prodigality, with his reckless 
 extortion of the means of expenditure from his too 
 patient people, becomes painfully manifest. During 
 
 * Note on Madame de Sevign^. 
 
26 RURAL (ECONOMY 
 
 the latter lialf of the eighteenth century it is Enghmd 
 which supplies France, and that to a considerable 
 extent. 
 
 A contrast is thus drawn between the then con- 
 dition of the two nations : — " The English people, 
 happy, and proud of their government, confiding 
 in its protection, and labouring with activit}'; our 
 peoj)le, ruined, humiliated, oppressed; turning aside 
 from industrial occupations of which they are not 
 permitted to enjoy the fruits, and feeling towards their 
 rulers nothing but hatred and contempt." (p. 162.) 
 
 It is pleasing to observe with what admiration this 
 intelligent writer regards the course of our past 
 domestic history ; but we are sadly afraid that a closer 
 acquaintance with the internal economy of England — 
 still more that of Scotland and Ireland — during the 
 eighteenth century, would dispel much of the envy 
 with which our institutions are viewed. For the 
 conduct of the Government during that centur}^, 
 especially during the whole reign of George II. and 
 the earlier portion of the reign of George III., was in 
 every way disentitled to the respect and afii"ection of 
 the English people. Indeed, the interesting contri- 
 butions to our domestic history which have made 
 their appearance, in the shape of personal memoirs, 
 during the last twenty years, supply ample evidence 
 of how little we owe to the paternal care of our 
 monarchs, or the purity and wise administration of our 
 ministers, until the period when the reins of power 
 were grasped by the younger Pitt. 
 
 The distinguishing, and in fact the most valuable 
 attribute of the English Government, is its non-inter- 
 ference with individual action : that is to say, it suffers 
 
OF ENGLAND. 27 
 
 its subjects to produce at their discretion ; protecting 
 the results of such industry by law, taking for State 
 purposes but a fraction of them, and this only 
 through and with the consent of the Commons House 
 of Parliament. The check thus exercised over the 
 expenditure of the State absolutely regulates the 
 amount of our military force ; and it was to this vital 
 element of security, more than to anything else, that 
 we formerly owed the preservation of our political 
 liberties. No one but a native Englishman compre- 
 hends how infinitely small is the direct action of the 
 executive government in this kingdom. Four-fifths 
 of the prodigious progress made in the arts of life, and 
 in the scientific application of the capacities of nature 
 to production, have been efi'ected by private citizens. 
 The incessant working of tlie British mind in a prac- 
 tical direction leads to a gigantic total of results, such 
 as could never be reached by any but a free commu- 
 nity, it is true ; but it is the character of the people 
 and not their government which has achieved the 
 social o-reatness of Ens^land. \Yhether our mercurial 
 neighbours would ever devote themselves, body and 
 soul, to the work of enriching themselves, at the price 
 of sacrificing the taste for present enjoyment, as well as 
 of stifling the development of the imaginative faculty, it 
 is very difiicult to conjecture. Our impression is that 
 they would not, under any system of government, 
 become the slaves of that passion for acquiring wealth 
 by which most Englishmen are subjugated. 
 
 For example, here is a man, himself lately a pro- 
 fessor of agronomic science, who, although his studies 
 lead him to feel the liveliest interest in the march of 
 productive cultivation, nevertheless finds, in the 
 
28 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 actual position of England, no small ground for 
 healthy regret at beholding the changes which are 
 creeping over her rural features. 
 
 Although a master of "Tabular demonstration," 
 and a skilful hand at statistical computations, his 
 French turn of thought revolts at the eternal appa- 
 rition of "the shop." Poetical sentiment is never wholly 
 smothered by the balance sheet, whilst the growing 
 necessity of drugging mother earth, and of dosing her 
 with nasty compounds, turns his heart chilly. M. La- 
 vergne not being an Englishman, he can see that which 
 no native sees, or rather that which no native chooses 
 to see — i.e., the inconvenience resulting from a super- 
 abundant })opulation. It is this ever-present fact which 
 lies at the bottom of half the difficulties of our internal 
 administration ; including that of the countless larvaB of 
 infant felonry with which no vigilance, no legislative 
 apparatus ever can effectually cope, at least in free 
 England. And it is not less the parent of those ingenious 
 devices which science is now invoked to apply to the 
 latent capacity of the earth. After adverting to the 
 stupendous laboratory of Mr. Lawes, near St. Albans, 
 for compounding medicaments Avherewith to whip up 
 nature, exhausted by the ordinary methods of produc- 
 tion, M. Lavergne goes on to say : — 
 
 " That which sufficed yesterday will not satisfy the 
 wants of to-day. The produce of to-day will fall 
 short of the morrow's demand. Fresh calls must be 
 made upon the earth, our common parent, for addi- 
 tional treasures, and unless she can be forced to yield 
 them, famine, depopulation, and death await us." 
 
 And a little further on he remarks that, " such is 
 the growing conviction in England of the necessity of 
 
OF ENGLAND. 29 
 
 calling in the aid of chemistry to quicken the powers 
 of nature, that you will hear a common farmer of 
 the present day talking about ammonia and phos- 
 phates, as though he were acquainted with their 
 composition;" so persuaded is this class of the im- 
 perious need of extorting more and more from natural 
 agents.* 
 
 The efforts made in agricultural progress some 
 fifty years ago, proceeded from members of the 
 aristocratic class. Those now at work result in orreat 
 
 o 
 
 part from the enterprize and emulation of a class 
 somewhat lower in the social scale, of which the 
 spirited owner of " Tiptree Hall" is one of the most 
 instructive specimens. 
 
 " It is said that M. Mechi buries money in his 
 farming experiments, and I can readily believe it; 
 but I like this vein of expenditure better than most 
 others. A Paris cockney would perhaps lay out his 
 money in a smart villa, with Gothic portico, and a 
 Swiss hermitage, and other silly whims. Which is the 
 preferable mode?" (p. 256.) 
 
 The system of distributing, by tubes or otherwise, 
 fluid stercoraceous matter over the surface of our 
 soil, mainly due to the example set by the Rev. Mr. 
 Huxtable and Mr. Mechi, now ranks among the most 
 effective of the stimuli, to the employment of which 
 
 * '• The agricultural mind is non^ becoming alive to the fact that, 
 task the powers of cultivation and of the soil as we may, we are likely 
 to be wholly unable to keep up with the demands made upon them by 
 our rapidly increasing population ; a population, too, whose powers of 
 consumption are increasing even in a greater ratio than its numbers, so 
 that it exhibits day by day an increasing desire to revel in beef and 
 mutton," &c. &c. — Agricultural Gazette for the week ending December 
 2, 1851, No. 48. 
 
30 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 we are in course of being driven. M. Lavergne 
 seizes the value of this provocative, describing the 
 system with care and exactness in the chapter " High 
 Farming." 
 
 As to the stall-feeding practice, the author again 
 expresses himself thus : — " One cannot suppress a dis- 
 agreeable emotion on beholding these poor creatures, 
 whose relations still stray over the immense pasture 
 grounds of Britain, here deprived of liberty and 
 exercise, and on thinking that possibly a day may 
 come when the numerous herds which yet roam at large 
 amid green fields, frisking with gaiety, shall all be 
 clapped up within these dismal walls, which they will 
 quit only to be driven to the slaughter-house. These 
 workhouses for the production of meat, milk, and 
 manure, where the animal figures as a mere machine, 
 offer something which is unpleasant to the imagina- 
 tion ; after a peep into one of these, one's stomach has 
 little relish for meat for days after. But the loud 
 clamours of necessity impel you to produce food, at 
 all cost, and no matter by what means : mth never 
 slackening pace your population strides onward, 
 whilst its wants even outstrip its numbers. Fare- 
 well, then, to the pastoral scenes and features of which 
 England has ever boasted the charm, and which 
 poets and painters have striven with emulous rivalry 
 to depict and illustrate." (p. 215.) 
 
 He suggests indeed two chances — viz., that the 
 quality of the meat thus managed m-dj at last grow too 
 bad to be endured, or, that the unnatural regimen 
 itself may give rise to diseases unknown in our flocks 
 and herds under the old healthy plan of grazing. All 
 of us, at least all persons above forty years of age, re- 
 
OF ENGLAND. 31 
 
 cognise the difference between the old down-fed mutton 
 of former times, and the present pallid, tallowy article 
 supplied by butchers, and deplore the impossibility of 
 obtaining for money any better meat. The decline of 
 flavour and quality in our mutton, nobody indeed dis- 
 putes, but we are told that the farmer can send the 
 sheep to market cheaper at 20 months old, than at five 
 years. So conclusive to all English minds is this argu- 
 ment, that the counteracting contingencies contem- 
 plated by M. Lavergne, of, firstly, an universal 
 murrain, or, secondly, a wide-spread distaste for oil 
 cake as a bottom dish, however disguised by the out- 
 ward semblance of fibrine and caseine, as checks to 
 the cheap production of meat, do not re-assure us. 
 But our limits warn us to terminate this vein of pro- 
 phecy, which we will do by one more quotation from 
 our economist's more sentimental pages. 
 
 " Black clouds of smoke now curl over the verdant 
 landscapes so delightfully chanted by Thomson : the 
 charm peculiar to English rural scenery is disappear- 
 ing with its pastures and hedgerows. The ancient 
 feudal character of country life is changing under 
 the disappearance of its game. Even its parks are 
 regarded with a sort of jealousy, as occupying a 
 surface capable of being more profitably culti- 
 vated 
 
 " In all this we may perceive much more than an 
 agricultural question ; nay, it concerns perhaps the 
 whole structure of English society. No one ought 
 to affirm that revolutions find no field in Enorland ; 
 on the contrary, revolutions go forward there as else- 
 where, only that they proceed silently and in a 
 leisurely way." And he adds that he believes in the 
 
32 RURAL CECONOMY 
 
 possibility of adapting the new to the old forms of 
 society, in such a manner as that Ave shall all come 
 out gainers ; though this seems to us a persuasion 
 requiring vast faith in the agents of the compromise. 
 After a brief glance over the English counties, 
 their most striking external features, soil, productions, 
 and varying relations between owner and cultivator, 
 we come to the chapter on Scotland. 
 
 Here, as indeed is the case with the author's descrip- 
 tion of England, much more than an agricultural 
 " coup-d'oeil" is presented to the reader. One of the 
 characteristics on which M. Lavergne dwells with 
 obvious pleasure, is the approximation, in that 
 country, to the negation of government. 
 
 " Viewed in a political light," says he, " Scotland 
 may be pronounced to be England perfected. No- 
 where in Europe is there less of administrative 
 machinery : one must go to America to find an equal 
 measure of simplicity in this respect. A centralized 
 administration, so much lauded, which both vexes 
 and taxes three-fourths of the French nation for the 
 advantage of the remaining fourth, stifling through- 
 out the land all local or individual initiatory action, 
 is here unknown." (p. 345.) 
 Again : — 
 
 " In this little nation, of less than three millions 
 of souls, a sense of connnon interests (that funda- 
 mental truth so hard to inculcate through the lessons 
 of science) is recognised by, and is present to all. 
 Scotland, in short, is a family." (p. 347.) 
 
 As with most travellers, Scottish scenery, coupled 
 as it is with traditions of a picturesque age, disposes 
 M. Lavergne to poetical musings. He appears to be 
 
OF ENGLAND. 33 
 
 perfectly familiar with the creations of Sir Walter 
 Scott, and delights to find a locality for his favourite 
 fictions as he wanders over ground hallowed by 
 those marvellous romances. Shaking off this seduc- 
 tive mood, however, he conducts us through the 
 " Lowlands," lecturing as he goes along upon the 
 culture pursued, and the races of domestic animals 
 prevalent, in that section of North Britain ; touching, 
 by way of conclusion, upon the superior prudence 
 and self-control displayed by the Lowlanders in 
 regard to marriage; their numbers never exceeding 
 the limits of comfortable subsistence. Whilst in 
 England, he says, the population has tripled its 
 numbers, and that of Ireland quadrupled, Scotland 
 has, during an equal interval, only doubled hers; in 
 the Lowlands, that is to say, for in the Northern 
 counties a vastly different state of society has always 
 subsisted. 
 
 " The Highlands" forms a chapter apart, and will 
 be found to contain much that is not generally known 
 to Southern readers. 
 
 The author " commences with the Deluge," it must 
 be premised, but, having started, runs so rapidly over 
 the historical antecedents of " Bonnie Scotland" that 
 the reader is safely landed, at the end of about four- 
 and-twenty pages, enriched with so much information 
 respecting the extraordinary mutation that Scottish 
 industry, social institutions, and manners have under- 
 gone, as will surprise him, when he can take breath 
 and reflect upon the space he has travelled over. 
 
 To sketch an outline even of the domestic revolu- 
 tion effected in the sister kingdom, is what few 
 foreigners would have had the hardihood to attempt. 
 
 D 
 
34 RURAL (ECONOMY 
 
 Still fewer would have attempted it with success. 
 Taking up Scottish internal history at the point of 
 pure and complete Feudalism — of which he presents 
 a striking, and we need scarcely add an attractive, 
 picture — the author traces the slow but inevitable 
 causes through which this semi-barbaric form of 
 society came to be at length fused into civilization. 
 The most marked epoch of change may be referred 
 to the final expulsion of the Stuarts, in 1746, after 
 which period the powerful Scottish nobles began to 
 think of framing their lives somewhat more in accord- 
 ance with certain new ideas which then broke in 
 upon their minds: ideas chiefly inspired by their occa- 
 sional intercourse with France and other countries; 
 nevertheless, M. Lavergne is of opinion that the feudal 
 character and sentiment lingered amongst the Highland 
 clans longer than in any other portion of Europe. 
 
 Not until the introduction of more regular habits 
 and agriculture, — accompanied by the repression, by 
 vigorous efforts, of the old system of living on 
 plunder — had altered the condition of Highland life, 
 did the I-airds become aware how difficult a matter it 
 was to maintain honestly, in those poverty-stricken, 
 barren tracts, the multitudes which, under a more 
 ancient form of society, had proved a source of power 
 to the " chiefs of clans." Accordingly, measures were 
 set on foot for the purpose of "thinning" their 
 estates of the now superabundant natives. 
 
 " It was in the Highlands that depopulation on a 
 regular system was carried forward, which depopula- 
 tion made much noise in Europe some thirty years 
 since. M. Sismondi, among others, doubtless with the 
 best intentions, but certainly not with the most clear- 
 
OF ENGLAND. 35 
 
 sighted views, helped in his day to stimulate the 
 public disapprobation of this proceeding; neverthe- 
 less, although it may perhaps have been somewhat 
 roughly executed, the measure itself has been pro- 
 ductive of excellent results." (p. 367.) 
 
 It so happened that the disposition to sweep off 
 the redundant mouths from large landed properties, 
 was displaying itself actively at the commencement of 
 the present century, just at which period the great bard 
 of feudalism. Sir Walter Scott, first rose upon the hori- 
 zon of literature. His captivating chivalric poems had 
 the effect of swelling the storm of opposition to the 
 schemes already in progress for bringing the moun- 
 taineers within the dreaded pale of prosaic institutions. 
 But in spite of this, and although earnest appeals were 
 made to traditional rights against the justice of the 
 expulsions (appeals in themselves far from ill-founded), 
 the great landlords, backed by the far-sighted co-opera- 
 tion of the Imperial Government, carried their purpose 
 through. Expedients were employed to mitigate the 
 hardship of the proceeding, and to facilitate the 
 removal of the exiles to other lands. A part were 
 regimented and blended with our regular army, 
 of which they have proved themselves gallant and 
 loyal members, whilst those who remained on their 
 native hills were induced gradually to adopt more 
 settled habits, and to pursue more honest means of 
 living. 
 
 Whoever will be at the trouble of following M. 
 Lavergne's lucid account of one of these memorable 
 transactions, exhibiting the effects of " clearing," on 
 the largest scale, will, we are persuaded, be inclined 
 to yield a cordial assent to the judgment he delivers, 
 
 d2 
 
36 RURAL (ECONOMY 
 
 whether as " economist," or as friend to civil order 
 and progress. 
 
 The passage we allude to relates the prodigious 
 detrusion carried out under the orders — we might 
 almost say under the reign — of the late Duchess 
 Countess of Sutherland, in the decade ending with 
 the year 1820. 
 
 Karely has the exercise of power been attended with 
 results more beneficial. We regret to be unable to 
 reproduce the details of operations of which the fruits 
 have been prosperity, content, and moral improvement; 
 insomuch that already in 1825 — " From the towers 
 of their feudal castle of Dunrobin, the heirs of Mhoir- 
 Fhear-Chattaibh looked down upon a spectacle of 
 thriving industry such as it never could liave entered 
 the mind of their ancestors to conceive of." (p. 378.) 
 
 Many suggestive observations accompany the history 
 of the transition we have been contemplating ; among 
 them is one alluding to a somewhat analogous change in 
 England after the wars of the Roses (see p. 384). We 
 will terminate this episode with a passage quoted by the 
 author, in which sober reason is permitted to guide the 
 pen of a poet. "In contemplating a landscape bounded 
 by mountains," writes Sir Walter Scott,* " rocks, 
 precipices, and forests assume, in a summer's evening, 
 the most delightful forms and colouring. It requires 
 an effort to recal to one's mind their actual sterility 
 and desolation. So it is with the mountaineers them- 
 selves. Seen from a distance and through the medium 
 of the fancy, how they affect the heart and imagina- 
 tion ! Yet it must not be forgotten how incompatible 
 
 * In his Sistory of Scotland. 
 
OF ENGLAND. 37 
 
 was Highland clanship with all progl'ess, moral or 
 religious, or with genuine freedom." (p. 385.) 
 
 If we have dwelt somewhat at length upon the 
 foregoing topic, it is because so vast a cluster of facts 
 and deductions is involved in the consideration of 
 the change from the romantic to the prosaic state of 
 society — the substitution of flocks of sheep for tribes 
 of brave and devoted, but lawless warriors. 
 
 " Should some stray descendant of the Highlander 
 of yore be yet discerned here and there, perched on 
 a crag, his traditional plaid flung over his shoulder, 
 and droning out on his bagpipe some dolorous old 
 ditty, it is not a fighting man whom you behold, but a 
 shepherd; one no longer subsisting on plunder and 
 war, but on the wages of the neighbouring farmer. 
 Little can he tell you of the valiant deeds of his 
 sires ; but, to compensate for this ignorance, he will 
 inform you how the lambing season has sped, and 
 whether wools are 'up.' This is all which remains 
 of a lost race." (p. 379.) 
 
 This verbal paraphrase of Sir Edwin Landseer's 
 picture of " Peace and War," is not exhaustive, how- 
 ever. A handful of men still survive, whose peculiar 
 organization, physical and moral, entitles them to be 
 regarded as true Gaels. They are chiefly engaged, 
 in connexion with richer sportsmen, in occupations 
 germane to their former condition, such as huntinsf, and 
 shooting, fishing, and exterminating the brute com- 
 petitors of man, in the pursuit of " Fera3 naturae." 
 And it is to be hoped that these few representatives 
 of a race which will ever live in the picturesque 
 traditions of distant periods, may never become 
 really extinct. 
 
38 RURAL (ECONOMY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 The chapter on Ireland we must forbear to touch 
 upon ; partly because the mere sound of that name 
 has generally had the effect of dispersing the stoutest- 
 hearted audience, and also because we cannot venture 
 to devote more space to M. Lavergne's book. It will 
 suffice to state that he has imparted to that hitherto 
 hopeless subject as much interest as it is possible to 
 connect with it; bringing into cheerful prominence 
 the improved prospects of Irish industry, together 
 with the benefits arising from the operation of Sir 
 John Romilly's Act for disposing of encumbered 
 estates. 
 
POSTSCRIPT IN 1863. 
 
 Six years have gone over since the foregoing review of M. 
 Lavergne's work upon England was penned^ yet on reflection, 
 there appears in it but little to modify. On one point, 
 perhaps, it may be well to note a change ; I mean in what 
 regards the interference of the English Government in the 
 domestic affairs of the people. 
 
 It is remarked in the review, how small the amount of 
 Government interference has ever been in this nation ; but I 
 regret to say the case is altered of late. For instance, the 
 expenditure, by the Executive Government, of a sum of money 
 reaching the enormous amount of 800,000^ in the year, for 
 the purpose of educating the children of parents, unable or 
 unwilling to bear the expense of school teaching for them, 
 has led to a system of widespread centralized influence and 
 control over the rural population throughout the land. In 
 nearly every part of the country, the village school is now 
 brought under the management of a Government official. 
 The condition of granting to any school a portion of the money 
 voted by Parliament for education is, that the school must 
 be presided over by a " certificated teacher." After this comes 
 a stipulation that a Government oflicer or inspector shall 
 periodically visit and examine into the mode of managing tlie 
 school. And in the third place, a class of persons is created, 
 dependent on Government employment and favour, called 
 " pupil teachers ;" maintained at the public cost, and 
 lodged in capacious and expensive public buildings, and 
 all this, forsooth, in order to train young people to teach 
 reading, writing, and summing, or the " A, B, C," of 
 learning. 
 
40 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Without entering into statistical details concerning the 
 results, beneficial or otherwise, of this vast, and I may add, 
 unwieldy machinery, I must be permitted to observe that, the 
 introduction of it into the social economy of this country tends 
 to destroy one of the recognised features of English character, 
 viz., the ability and disposition to manage our own affairs 
 without being interfered with by Government. Many bene- 
 volent country residents assuredly feel the presence of official 
 rule as unpleasant. Proprietors of land, who would naturally 
 interest themselves in the schooling of their districts, find 
 their suggestions overridden, and the superintending function 
 wholly exercised by the Parson and the Government. The 
 numerous candidates for places under the Committee of 
 Education of the Privy Council, form a body of humble 
 dependents, and the idea of pleasing the dominant authorities 
 takes entire possession of their mind. 
 
 This state of things is a novelty amongst us, and I must 
 add that its establishment is likely to weaken, if not to efface, 
 the habit of local activity and spontaneous organization for 
 purposes of useful exi^enditure. It has something of the effect 
 of a poor law, in so far as it renders people in humble circum- 
 stances careless of the obligation contracted by the parental 
 relation ; disposing them to claim the aid of the State for 
 the schooling of their offspring, in like manner as they claim, 
 in right of the poor law, food and shelter, when unable or 
 reluctant to procure these by their own industry. 
 
 It is beside my purpose to go into the arguments by which 
 the necessity for bringing village or rural schooling under 
 Government superintendence is generally sustained. Perhaps 
 we have reached that stage in our social history, whei'ein the 
 imperfect performance of the duties required of rural 
 parishioners comes to be felt as a species of disgrace, and 
 wherein the ideas of the community, as to the skilful employ- 
 ment of means to ends, have outrun ancient modes and habits. 
 We may see daily instances of the impatience manifested by 
 the English public, of the smallest shortcomings on the part 
 of individuals entrusted with the management of any machi- 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 41 
 
 neiy bearing on the general convenience — post-office, railway- 
 companies, innkeeping, packet companies, telegraph workers 
 — no matter what the inaccuracy or incompleteness, John 
 Bull is become so exigent since he has grown so wealthy, that 
 he will not endure the old dilatory methods of carrying on 
 the business of administrative life by voluntary or quasi-volun- 
 tary agencies. 
 
 When a nation has come to be pampered by extra- 
 ordinary facilities of locomotion and intercommunication, 
 and indeed by the adequate organization of most of 
 the departments connected with material comfort, the few 
 examples which remain of old systems strike us as intolerably 
 clumsy, and inapproj)riate to the circumstances of the period. 
 And, at this point of public sentiment, a lively conception of 
 the comparative advantages of centralization lays hold of the 
 imagination, and so gradually allows this principle to take 
 root in our institutions. 
 
 The spread of this principle in Great Britain I take to be 
 fraught with injurious consequences to the national character ; 
 Ave are entering upon a changed state of things, wherein for 
 the sake of escaping the tiresome obligations involved in 
 citizenship, the indolent man accepts the direction of the 
 Executive Government. Commissioners, lay and ecclesiastical, 
 inspectors, and "Boards," now control the action of a great 
 portion of our domestic economy, whilst the ramifying fibres 
 of the " Committee of the Pi'ivy Council," appear to pervade 
 the entire surface of society. 
 
 Of course the feeling of a rich man is first to enjoy, and 
 next to avoid trouble. And when this last desire reaches the 
 amount now apparently present in the English mind, cen- 
 tralization offers an easy relief, and the surrender of individual 
 shares in the conduct of the national concerns is made without 
 compunction. 
 
 Thus I have briefly sketched the course which a community 
 follows when influenced by two puissant causes. 1. A condition 
 of great wealth, raising as it does the standard of " perform- 
 ance" throughout the functional scale ; and 2, this same wealth 
 
42 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 engendering an inordinate appetite for enjoyment, which is in- 
 compatible with the discharge of gratuitous, obscure, and labo- 
 rious services to society, or " civic functions." Centralization, in 
 short, to my view, is a symptom of social decline in a free, 
 active, and healthful community ; but whether it be destined 
 to enlarge its operations over the English people, or whether 
 they will offer timely resistance to its progress, must chiefly 
 depend upon the conduct of our political teachers in and out of 
 Parliament. In comparison with an able " platform" speaker, 
 even good writers exercise but a secondary influence. 
 
 I shall be told that the step taken by Government, in assuming 
 the direction of the enormous expenditure voted for purposes 
 of education, was prompted by the annually augmenting evil 
 of its maladministration by the parochial and other resident 
 managers. But I demur to the expenditure itself. It is out 
 of all proportion with its objects. And I am persuaded that 
 less than one half of the sum voted by Parliament out of the 
 taxes, in aid of the teaching of poor children, would suffice to 
 impart so much elementary education as the State ought to be 
 called upon to assist in supplying to the working classes. 
 However, these speculations have extended to a length which 
 obliges me to conclude, after remarking that an undue portion 
 of the wealth of this country seems to be, at the present time, 
 employed in teaching the poor to rely on the rich for obtain- 
 ing many things which they ought properly to aim at obtain- 
 ing by their own labour and their own virtues. 
 
THE CASE 
 
 THE POOR AGAINST THE RICH 
 
 FAIRLY CONSIDERED 
 
 A MUTUAL miEND. 
 
THE AUTHOR TO THE READER. 
 
 These pages have cost me too much thought and too much 
 labour to be consigned to obUvion without an attempt to render 
 them of some use. They were designed for publication in one or 
 other of the quarterly periodicals, but could obtain admission into 
 neither, for various reasons, not necessary to assign here. 
 
 The hope of obtaining the attention, and, possibly, the con- 
 currence in my opinions, of even a small number of readers, induces 
 me to print my "rejected article" in an independent form; and it 
 will compensate me for the pains bestowed upon its composition, if 
 I should succeed in rectifying, even in a slight measure, certain 
 errors (aU the more formidable for being conscientious) which prevail 
 on the subject of the inequahty of conditions between Eich and 
 Poor. 
 
 London, Feb. 1850. 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 Though the work we are about to notice* is by no 
 means a recent production, it has been selected from 
 a mass of similar labours on account of the rare qualifi- 
 cations brought to it by the author, and the ability 
 with which he has embodied certain views which, in 
 our opinion, require to be controverted and corrected. 
 
 At the time when M. Leon Faucher made his tour 
 through the manufacturing districts in England, the 
 question of ' Le droit de travail' had not acquired 
 that formidable pre-eminence which we have lived to 
 see it arrive at in the minds of his countrymen. 
 
 The question of poverty and its painful derivatives 
 has, however, long engaged the attention of some of 
 the clearest-headed and most benevolent individuals 
 among the political men of France, and especially of 
 M. Leon Faucher,t a writer formerly known to the 
 public as the able " redacteur-en-chef " of the "Courrier 
 Fran9ais;" an instructed political economist and 
 financier, and wielding, perhaps, one of the finest 
 controversial pens of the time. 
 
 * Etudes 8ur rAngleterre. Par Leon Faucher. Paris. 1845. 
 2 vols. 
 t Lately Minister of the Literior under Louis Napoleon. 
 
48 THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 This gentleman, profiting by a period of leisure 
 which his secession from the " Courrier Francais" 
 afi'orded, undertook a journey through several of the 
 British provinces, with a view to obtain an insight 
 into the comparative condition of the people in Great 
 Britain, as well as to examine the working of our 
 manufacturing system ; to portray its material and in- 
 dustrial features, and to acquire, if possible, the means 
 of communicating to his countrymen the secret of our 
 prodigious prosperity. M. Faucher was, indeed, 
 already in some sort familiar with the subject, having 
 previously travelled in England (of which he possessed 
 the language sufficiently well), and made notes of 
 much that appeared to deserve attention. Moreover, 
 his connexion with many leading public men here, and 
 the facilities with which they furnished him for pene- 
 trating into the very heart of our manufacturing hives, 
 gave M. Faucher advantages which rarely attend a 
 foreigner on a tour of curiosity in a rival country. 
 His work, therefore, of which we have given the title 
 at the head of this article, is entitled to respectful 
 attention, as containing, first, a thoroughly veracious 
 account of what the author saw with his own eyes 
 (and which, by the way, very few of us, we suspect, 
 have seen, or would even wish to see with ours) ; and 
 secondly, a tolerabl}^ comprehensive summary of the 
 views, opinions, and aims of a class who may not 
 unaptly be described as " operative philanthropists." 
 
 To give any adequate notion of the quantity of facts 
 and speculations comprised in these two interesting 
 volumes would require long extracts, as w^ell from 
 M. Faucher's descriptive chapters, as from those in 
 which he seeks to unravel the incoherent mass of 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 49 
 
 phenomena composing our motley, and probably 
 unique, form of society. But the leading impressions 
 he seems to have carried awav with him are, that 
 England offers the most forcible contrasts which human 
 life can furnish. Splendour and comfort are every- 
 where to be found side by side with misery; benevo- 
 lence, piet}^, love of order, in company with squalid 
 indigence, and debauched and vicious habits; whilst 
 industry, talents, and the domestic virtues are to be 
 found flourishing in the centre of depraved multitudes. 
 The manufacturing "hives" present equally marked 
 contrasts — vast masses of workpeople shall be comfort- 
 ably cared for and their morals watched over, in one 
 district; whilst in others, the human species shall be 
 found de2:raded to the level of swine. Beholdino; these 
 monstrous inequalities of lot amongst the members of 
 one community, M. Faucher is prompted to express a 
 sentiment which, indeed, seems but too just and 
 natural, in regard to the sacrifice of human life and 
 powers by which the prodigious wealth and power of 
 England have been acquired. M. Faucher deems the 
 price paid for our superiority too great — he considers 
 the manufacturing system to have been reared upon 
 an inhuman basis, and thinks that a severe i^etrihution 
 must overtake the capitalists sooner or later. Further- 
 more, w^hilst he accords to the over- worked factory 
 labourer a measure of deep commiseration, he reserves 
 a scarcely inferior feeling of pity and sympathy for the 
 agricultural or out-door labourer. Xo class, in short, 
 earning their subsistence by labour in this country, 
 but is an object of profound compassion, excepting, 
 perhaps, those individual factories whose proprietors, 
 like Messrs. Greg, Strutt, Ash^vorth, and Ashton, 
 
 E 
 
50 THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 consent to dedicate a portion of their time and atten- 
 tion to the well-being of their people. 
 
 " Lorsque les premieres atteintes du mal industriel se fiient sentir 
 en Angleterre, on essaya d'abord d'en detourner les yeux; Ton en 
 
 contcsta la realite Plus tard, le recensement de la population 
 
 ayant fait connaitre I'effroyable mortalite des districts manufacturiers, 
 et la publication des tables criminelles ayant montre I'accroissement 
 des dclits, il ne fut plus possible de prolonger ces illusions. Alors 
 la discussion roporta sur les causes du desordre nouveau qui venait 
 de se reveler. Pendant que I'aristocratie fonciere en accusait 
 I'industrie elle-meme, et ne voyait dans I'activite des ateliers que des 
 germes de mort, I'aristocratie industrielle s'en prenait aux lois et a. 
 I'etat de la societe. Bient6t les avocats des manufactures, quittant 
 la defensive, ont cliercbe a etablir que la condition des populations 
 rurales etait encore inferieure k celle des ouvriers fileurs ou tisseurs ; 
 niais tout ce qu'ils ont prouve en jetant sur les faits cette cruelle lumi^re, 
 c'est que le mal existait des deux cotes." — Tome i. p. 381. 
 
 Without concurring in the loose declamatory accusa- 
 tions against the wealthy, which are now so commonly 
 vented by the " friends of the poor" par excellence, 
 M. Faucher is nevertheless impelled, by the strong 
 feelings of humanity he cherishes, to address them in 
 the following language — in reference to the foregoing 
 statements : — 
 
 " II y a la un scandale qui pese a la conscience publique ; chacun 
 sent bicn que, dans un pays oii de pareilles maladies se declarent, les 
 bommes qui president a la direction de I'ordre social ne sauraient 
 ecbapper a toute responsabilite 
 
 " II est triste, quand on aspire a une renommee de richesse, de force, 
 et de moralite, de se voir montre an doigt en Europe, et de deveuir pour 
 les uns un sujet de reproclie, pour les autres un objet de pitie 
 
 " Enfin, I'Angleterre comprend que son avenir rnSme est menace. 
 (Jn peuple aussi profondcment attache au culte de la matiere doit 
 mettre la force physique au premier rang des elemens sur lesquels 
 repose la puissance d'un etat, et il doit s'alarmer plus qu'un autre 
 des qu'il voit decliner, sous I'influence des privations combinees avec 
 I'intemperance et avec I'exces du travail, la constitution des ouvriers. 
 
 II s'est organise (i. e., le peuple) pour une sorte de lutte 
 
 universelle avec le monde civilise, qu'il defie tout ensemble dans les 
 conquetes aussi peu pacifiques de I'industrie. Comment ne trem- 
 blerait-il pas, a la seule idee d'une diminution probable dans I'effi- 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 51 
 
 cacit6 des instrumens avec lesquels il combat et il produit." — Tome i. 
 pp. 377—380. 
 
 These appeals to the conscience as well as to the 
 fears of the educated classes, dictated as they are by 
 the sincerest benevolence, have their use in keeping 
 alive that sense of duty towards inferiors which is 
 indispensable to the existence of civilized society. But 
 we must be allowed to observe that, to English ears, 
 they savour of that entire ignorance of what we are 
 doing, and what has been doing, in regard to our 
 domestic organization, which is so universal in the 
 French mind when treating of England. It is, 
 perhaps, on this account, superfluous to wonder that 
 M. Faucher should not be aware that no subject, 
 bearing on our internal condition, has occupied any- 
 thin s; like the same des-ree of laborious attention and 
 earnest solicitude, both on the part of the legislature 
 and the influential classes, lay and clerical, for the last 
 twenty years, as this very problem of the increase of 
 indigence. And if we are no nearer to the discovery 
 of a means of extinguishing it than before, it is well 
 to have laboured heartily to that end, as we have done, 
 and to have accomplished the most eiFectual mitigation 
 of the evil which the actual condition of society 
 admitted of, — viz., the New Poor Law of 1835. 
 
 But in order to appreciate the efl?brts made by 
 Eno;land towards a healthier state of morals and 
 comfort among her working population, it ought to be 
 carefully ascertained how much of human suffering is 
 curable by human agency, and how much incurable. 
 The Turk or Egyptian fatalist quietly resigns himself 
 to misfortune and suffering, in the belief that no part 
 of it is curable by man. This is one end of the scale 
 
 E 2 
 
OZ THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 of faith. At the opposite end may be found sanguine 
 and self-sufficient social doctors, who affirm " that it 
 savours of impiety to say that miy form of evil is 
 beyond the power of society to remedy." Such a 
 declaration was actually published by a " club" formed 
 a short time since at Paris, calling itself " Le Cercle 
 Constitutionnel," in which many respected names were 
 enrolled; among others, that of M. Gustave de 
 Beaumont, late Ambassador of the French Republic 
 in England. These persons, we repeat, are at the 
 opposite end of the scale. We should ourselves be 
 glad to hit the precise "juste milieu," but not having 
 that pretension, we think it a righteous employment 
 of our faculties to sift the efficacy of current projects, 
 by tracing their indubitable effects beforehand. 
 
 To begin with the most generally approved specific, 
 increased charity. " If the rich would only open their 
 purses wider," cry the plate-holders^ "we should hear no 
 more complaints about want and suffering." " It is the 
 indolent neglect of the poor by the wealthy," say the 
 Puritans, "which causes the dreadful spread of poverty 
 and crime." These, and a hundred forms of the same 
 Y)roposition, are as familiar to our readers as the song 
 of birds, no doubt, and leave a certain indefinable but 
 disagreeable trace behind them. We will look into 
 the value of this nostrum first in order, beginning with 
 its practical side, apart from its sentimental character. 
 
 There can be no doubt that every shilling bestowed 
 in alms is a shilling the less in that fund destined to 
 remunerate labour withal. For nothing is more fa- 
 bulous than the thing called " superfluity." People in 
 easy circumstances either spend, or give away, or save 
 the money they have to dispose of. What is given away 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 53 
 
 to the poor is, of course, also spent, by the party receiv- 
 ing it, improd actively. What is saved might be like- 
 wise given ; but if no savings are made, all provision 
 against casual reverses, as well as all accumulation of 
 capital, destined to reproduce wealth, is annihilated — 
 a consequence which cannot be too emphatically de- 
 precated. But whilst we estimate the agency of 
 charitable donations as a very inadequate counterpoise 
 to the pressure of the general mass of poverty in a 
 community, it is fitting that the wide extent to which 
 the habit of benevolence is practised in Great Britain 
 should be placed in a strong light, by way of proving 
 that the experiment has at least been extensively tried. 
 When, indeed, we come to look into the amount of 
 what is given, without a shadow of return, by rich to 
 poor in this country — not counting various services in 
 person rendered by rich men — its magnitude is asto- 
 nishing. Setting aside the enormous standing provi- 
 sion for sick and infirm (the result of endowments), 
 and for educational objects, an Englishman of fortune 
 seldom has his purse out of his hand. He pays all 
 sorts of legal demands for the subsistence of the poor 
 in the first place; next, he subscribes to various public 
 charities, also to plougliing-matches, &c. ; he assists 
 poor dependents ; supports decayed relations ; he gives 
 alms on the highways ; he drops money into the charity- 
 plate at dinners and after sermons; he encloses five- 
 pound notes to the police magistrates, as from "A. X." ; 
 he distributes coals, clothes, meat at Christmas; he 
 gives land to build a school upon ; he pays for the 
 doctors of the poor; he lends to inferiors, and never 
 gets paid; finally, he dies and leaves bequests to half- 
 a-dozen eleemosynary institutions, and to humble ser- 
 
54 THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 vitors, and not unfrequently founds a provision for an 
 annual gift. 
 
 The female members of the gentry class are, all this 
 time, toiling at the work of benevolence in its domestic 
 forms — overlooking schools, stitching sedulously at 
 nightgowns and baby -linen, or at " fancy-fair" articles; 
 teaching girls straw-plaiting,lace-making ; hearing cate- 
 chisms on Sundays, tormenting their acquaintance to 
 purchase the useless productions of surabundant hands ; 
 distributing soup-tickets ; — in fine, co-operating, with 
 their gentle, kind efforts, in the grand and commend- 
 able purpose of mitigating the evils of poverty in the 
 lower ranks of life. Go into what neighbourhoods 
 you will, the standing feature in every country resi- 
 dence is " the charity" business. Where, indeed, is the 
 rural abode, we would ask, where the visitor is safe 
 from " the plate," or the subscription-book ? Is there 
 a provincial dinner-table at which the topic of poor- 
 law, board of guardians, or the like, does not take pre- 
 cedence of all others ? It is hardly prudent to attend 
 your host's parish church, even ; for it is ten to one 
 but that you are " let in" for a " collection" at the 
 door, after sermon ; and all this on the back of a tax 
 amounting to something like seven millions of pounds 
 per annum ! 
 
 Such is but an imperfect outline of the " charitable" 
 habits of an English family of average benevolence and 
 means, for we do not believe that any one except a 
 native of Great Britain has any conception of the ex- 
 tent to which an Englishman's fortune and time are 
 dedicated to the work of doing good. It is, perhaps, 
 unmatched in the world. After this, one would sup- 
 pose that the gentleman (or gentlewoman), who gives 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 55 
 
 and labours in all these forms, would be allowed to 
 spend and enjoy the rest of his or her income, and 
 attend to their six children in peace and quiet. Not 
 a bit of it. " Is it in human nature," said the late 
 Sydney Smith, in one of his Essays, " that A should 
 see B in distress, and not order C to assist him ?" The 
 whole squad of humanity-foragers are upon him with 
 their appeals on behalf of some species of misery which 
 they have undertaken to assuage ; and in fact, if we 
 would listen to these eternal emissaries, nobody would 
 have a moment's respite so long as any poor folks 
 could be found lacking something or another, or a 
 disease unprovided with a special asylum. Under this 
 sort of persecution, the possession of wealth almost 
 ceases to be a blessing. If we were not to resist such 
 attacks, the world of England might, in due time, 
 become one vast field for the labours of the Dorcas 
 tribe, whilst the more wholesome sources of good-will 
 and sympathy would be vulgarized and transmuted 
 into the most commonplace of all ties — the connexion 
 between rich and poor through the medium of the 
 purse. 
 
 It would be doing injustice to the sound understand- 
 ing of M. Faucher to imply that he is a believer in the 
 efficacy of charity as a cure for our social evils, although, 
 as a wholesome exercise of the beneficent principle, he 
 is, naturally, anxious to see it practised. As might 
 be expected of so sensible a man, he has other sug- 
 gestions to offer, and does not, after the manner of 
 " Boz," leave his readers with nothing but a vague sen- 
 timent of pity for the oppressed, and an equally vague 
 detestation of the oppressors — by which is understood, 
 in modern parlance, the comfortable classes. We are, 
 
56 THE KICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 liowfcver, unable to concur in the merits of M. Fauclier's 
 principal scheme as a counterpoise to the moral and 
 physical degradation of the poor; we confess that we 
 see in it little else than another form of charity, and feel 
 therefore that its impracticability is scarcely a matter of 
 regret. He, like most Frenchmen, considers the occu- 
 pancy of land, in never so small a parcel, by the poor 
 man, to be the proper remedy against indigence, as well 
 as a pledge of his disposition to maintain the laws 
 and ordinances of society. " The larger the number 
 interested in agricultural occupations on their own 
 account," says M. Faucher, " the safer are your national 
 institutions." Now, there can be no doubt that the 
 possession of property of any kind binds the party by 
 so much to the protection of the institution of property ; 
 but does it not occur to the advocates of this doctrine 
 that, in order to multiply proprietors of land, you must 
 first find possessors of land willing to part with it, and 
 next, poor men able to purchase ? If the working man 
 have money, he can purchase, not else. In France^ land 
 is sold, not given ; the same would happen here at the 
 present time if the poor man were able to buy land. 
 " But let him have land on hire, then," say the friends 
 of the system of " petite culture." Here we not only 
 meet the obstacle we alluded to above, viz., the reluc- 
 tance of owners to give up land for this purpose ; but 
 we are compelled to justify it by adducing the example 
 of landowners in a neighbouring island, who, having 
 once granted their land on hire, are absolutely cut off 
 from all control over it in time to come. In the county 
 of Donegal, not many years since, a gentleman, wishing 
 to re-enter into the occupation of his own domain at 
 the expiration of the term for which it had been let to 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 57 
 
 a number of small cultivators, was met by a threat of 
 assassination; and on his causing his agent to enforce 
 his orders, the agent was doomed to death, and would 
 have been shot wdthout scruple, had not one of the 
 party, suspecting the fidelity of his confederates, anti- 
 cipated their treachery by informing against them, and 
 thus saved the steward's life. Experience shows that 
 few things are more difficult than to recover posses- 
 sion of land once yielded up to persons of very small 
 means ; for that wdiich is granted on a revocable tenure 
 passes sooner or later into something like fixity of 
 tenure, so incomplete is the process by which the real 
 owner endeavours to regain it. It was remarked, in a 
 recent number of the Edinburgh Review ("Claims of 
 Labour"), that the holding land on hire did not, after all, 
 impart a sense of independence to the labourer, whilst 
 it had the disadvantage of impeding his removal to 
 other districts as occasion might serve. It would not, 
 at all events, meet the case of the town workman, for 
 the mill-hands could not cultivate the soil if they had 
 it; nor, even assuming that they knew how to do so, 
 would they have energy and strength left sufficient to 
 walk out (after dark, for the most part, too) to the 
 jDlots granted them in the vicinity of densely-inhabited 
 towns, necessarily distant from their abodes. And 
 indeed, whilst overwork is the real curse of their con- 
 dition, who would recommend night walks and spade 
 culture in addition ? As to form-labourers, few of our 
 cottages are without a bit of garden-ground adequate 
 to their wants, which furnishes employment for them 
 at spare times ; and we are far from believing that the 
 major portion desire to rent more, unless upon terms 
 implying a sacrifice by the owner in their favour. 
 
58 THE RICH AND THE TOOK. 
 
 When Lord Eadnor, for example, kindly consented to 
 let portions of ground to labourers at a rent equal, or 
 nearly equal, to the market value, a perfect outcry was 
 set up against him, both by labourers and by " friends 
 of the labourer," because he did not offer it at half its 
 worth, giving the labourer the difference ! This 
 incident plainly shows the animus with which the 
 "friends of the poor" ask the rich to " encourage" them. 
 
 M. Faucher's proposal for granting allotments we 
 must, then, respectfully dismiss as impracticable, 
 except in detached districts; as well on account of 
 the difficulty of getting the land yielded up for it, 
 near to large towns, in sufficient quantity, as on the 
 ground of the factory workpeople having no spare 
 power of toil left, after working all day in the mill. 
 
 We have now to consider another of M. Faucher's 
 expedients. It is, that the capitalist, or master of a 
 mill or factory, or establishment for industrial opera- 
 tions of any sort, should be induced to forego that 
 character, or to blend with it that of associate, or 
 partner, with the workmen whom he employs; and 
 this, in the view of engaging a " moral support" on 
 the part of the co-operative workpeople. 
 
 " Quant aux benefices, apres avoir mis apart un cinquieme pour 
 le fouds de reserve, on les partagerait, par egales moitius, antra le 
 maitre at les corps des ouvriers. II va sans dire que j'entends ce 
 partage comma uue concession volontaire, a laquelle chaqua manufac- 
 turier apporterait les conditions," &c. &c. — Tome i. p. 432, et seq. 
 
 It may be an error; but, for the life of us, we 
 cannot discern, in this ingenious contrivance, any- 
 thing beyond a tendency to raise the wages of the 
 workman at the expense of the master. But this 
 could be easily done without the contrivance, sup- 
 
 i 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 59 
 
 posing the capitalist to be brought into the humour 
 required.* View it on which side you will, however, 
 it involves an interference with the laws that regulate 
 the proportion which profits and Avages shall bear to 
 each other, where industry is free. And be it added, 
 that, its adoption being confessedly optional, it would 
 occasion endless variety in the rates of profit, tending 
 to dislocate the scale of prices — introducing a con- 
 fusion into the economy of manufacturing life which 
 might prove eminently disastrous to the whole com- 
 munity. The further effect of forcing up wages (and 
 the plan is nothing else) would simply be to discourage 
 capital from being set to work. On the ratio in which 
 profits can be extracted from mill labour hinges our 
 chance of holdino; our own in the markets of the 
 world. Raise our rate of wages (the population 
 continuing to increase, and to press upon profits as 
 paupers), and you paralyse the power of competing 
 with other nations. The dire necessity we labour 
 under of keeping the increase of capital a-head of the 
 increase of population, closes the door upon purely 
 present humane considerations. This is a sad truth, 
 but it had best be told. Your capital will flow out of 
 the country if you increase the cost of production by 
 raising wages. Of course, if bread be cheapened, 
 wages will virtually rise a trifle without deranging the 
 rate of profit. Yet this alleviation cannot endure 
 long. Fresh discoveries annually supersede human 
 arms in mill macldnery, and the excess in the supply 
 
 * The incapacity of the workpeople to meet the reverses incident to 
 commercial existence, would form an insuperable obstacle to such a co- 
 partnery. It is only a capitalist who can await the return of a profitable 
 season ; the workman must subsist himself in the meantime, since there 
 are no profits on the concern. But subsist on what ? 
 
GO THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 of live labour will have to be provided for by a tax 
 (or poor-rate), which tax, of course, falls upon 
 profits and rent, and by so much lessens the return 
 upon the capital of the country. A clever French 
 writer expresses himself on this contingency as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Ce serait pour la nation Anglaise un immense malheur, si cet 
 interdt, au lieu d'augmenter, diminuait, et elle en est veritablement 
 menacee. Mais ce qui doit, plus que toute autre chose, exciter la 
 sollicitude du gouvernement Anglais, c'est la situation de la classe 
 industrielle, qui forme une partie si forte et si energique de la nation. 
 II n'est pas de grande ville en Angleterre oil cette classe si laborieuse 
 et si pauvre n'inspire une piti6 profonde," &.c. &c, — Sev. des Deux 
 Mondes, pour Fevrier, 1842, p. 675. 
 
 No conclusion, it would seem, can rest upon sounder 
 premises than this to which the Avriter in " La Revue 
 des Deux Mondes" has arrived. The main instrument 
 through which the deplorable evils attending the 
 spread of pauperism may be staved oiF, consists in the 
 steady increase of the capital of the nation. By means 
 of a continual accumulation of capital, the sore may, 
 perhaps, be kept at its present level. The same 
 proportions which now pervade the shares of the 
 respective classes, may be preserved. AYe shall con- 
 tinue to have a layer of want, disease, and vice at the 
 bottom (and that a pretty thick one, alas !), a larger 
 stratum above, of thriving industry; with, lastly, a 
 thin top vein of wealthy capitalists, including the 
 enjoy ers of " rent." This appears to be the best 
 condition we can hope to realize, supposing popula- 
 tion to proceed at its present pace. That charity, 
 however extended, hardly makes any impression upon 
 the evil it is engaged upon alleviating, we have, in 
 this generous land at least, ample proof. By a 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 61 
 
 compulsory interference with the laws of distribution 
 — in other Avords, taxing the rich for the enjoyment 
 of the poor, or forcing up wages and lowering profits 
 of trade, by way of diminishing the inequality of 
 conditions; or by compelling capitalists to employ 
 their fortune in augmenting the production of food 
 (whether profitably or unprofitably, no matter), or 
 by forcing persons having capital to employ more 
 labour than is conveniently needed, or, by the fusion 
 of " master" and " man," to stimulate an increased 
 production — by none of these violent experiments and 
 expedients should we advance nearer to the desired 
 object, whilst we should be storing up still more 
 intractable difiiculties for our successors. All the 
 remedial suggestions we have heard (with the excep- 
 tion of emigration), may be resolved, ultimately, into 
 an interference with the law of property, more or less 
 plausibly veiled ; and the modern phrase of " /^ droit 
 de travaii^^ would appear to have been invented to 
 disguise, for a season, what must presently come to be 
 recognised as an attack upon that principle. Such, 
 therefore, as desire to uphold and defend that principle, 
 our " ark of the covenant," as it were, will do well to 
 study the insidious artifices by which it is, in these 
 days, imperilled. " Le droit de travaiV^ is among the 
 most formidable of them, and one which, if not grappled 
 with in time, may possibly come to serve, as the wooden 
 horse of the Greeks served at Troy, to introduce the 
 besiegers into the very citadel of the economic and 
 social structure of Europe. 
 
 Anything which sounds like a remedy will always 
 be caught at by the mass of mankind, if it but relieve 
 them from the task of probing the evil to the core. 
 
62 TUE RICH AND THE TOOR. 
 
 The dread we entertain of being forced to confess 
 that mankind multiply inconveniently fast, drives 
 us to employ the most untenable arguments and the 
 shallowest devices. One of these is to affirm, " that 
 the land of Great Britain ought to be made to produce 
 a vast deal more food than it does." " If the soil were 
 adequately cultivated," say they, "we should see all the 
 labouring people employed, and every one would have 
 enough to eat out of the abundance." This is so 
 attractive a nostrum, that it is worth while to com- 
 municate a mode of dealing with it which we have 
 employed with tolerable success. We simply put the 
 question — " Do you mean, that the increased food 
 should be produced at a profit, or at a loss ?" In every 
 case, the projector has seized the drift of our interro- 
 gatory reply, and been dumb. The same man would 
 hardly sanction the Government in taking money 
 from " Farmer Drill," sending it to New York, and 
 exchanging it for meal, to be distributed gratis, in 
 due season, to the English poor ; yet it comes to much 
 the same thmg as compelling him to produce corn at 
 home at a loss. If produced at a profit, he will need 
 no compulsion. 
 
 The institution of the Poor Law, providing as 
 it does against the necessity of any one individual 
 starving for want of food and shelter, is, we think, 
 sufficient to exculpate the English nation from the 
 imputation of indifference to the claims of a sound 
 humanity. M. Faucher lays it down that the State 
 has no business to interdict the practice of raendicanc}'-, 
 unless it provide legal means of relief to the needy. 
 Differing from him as we do upon the principle, we 
 would nevertheless observe that this is precisely what 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 63 
 
 the Eno-lish o-overnment does. No one need die of 
 hunger in England. But he who would eat the bread 
 of others must eat it in the workhouse ; and the State 
 does well to reduce the cost of furnishing food and 
 shelter to its lowest form. The sensitive but short- 
 sighted advocates of a more generous provision ought 
 to reserve a portion of sympathy for those who are 
 taxed to furnish the subsistence of the indio^ent, amono; 
 whom are the industrious and frugal peasants of the 
 cottage class, as well as every possessor of a mansion. 
 
 But there are agencies at work, having a contrary 
 tendency, and of which we would say a passing word. 
 The phases of misery in which the effects of over- 
 population reveal themselves in the present day, are 
 so various as to have actually engendered a literature 
 of their own ! A class of writers have betaken them- 
 selves to the composition of heart-rending fictions, bear- 
 ino; a resemblance with certain forms of life amons: our 
 lower classes, and they have succeeded, to a certain 
 extent, in inspiring every eater of daily dinners with 
 something like a sentiment of shame and self-reproach. 
 Where this feelino- fructifies into almsgivino- all that 
 ensues is a diminution of the operation of the " positive 
 check" for the moment; a fraction of privation is 
 absorbed, and the consequences of a great natural law- 
 interrupted for a brief season. But the law resumes 
 its march, and the weeping reader of Mrs. Norton's, 
 " Boz's," Hood's, and other tragical works, must either 
 sacrifice more of his own substance, or let it march. 
 We cannot too strenuously insist on the fact that every 
 complaint uttered on behalf of the poor and needy, 
 against the possessors of property, as such, is at 
 variance with the recognised fundamental principles 
 
64 THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 of civilized society, which rule that the lawful pos- 
 sessor of property shall enjoy it, as far as that enjoy- 
 ment does not interfere with the interests of others. 
 It is time, indeed, that we understood what this 
 modern cry of reproach means. If we are never to 
 be unmolested in the use of our own property (great 
 or small, as the case may be) so long as poverty is 
 prevalent in the land, let the humanity-preachers say 
 so, and we shall know how to deal with the demand. 
 We have always presumed that one of the privileges 
 belonging to the rich and elevated classes is that of 
 delegating to others the function of dispensing their 
 alms, and that, when a liberal contribution to the 
 solace and relief of the poor had been made, the 
 donor might be permitted to frame his own life after 
 his own tastes. But the charity- crusaders would 
 have it otherwise. They positively erect it into an 
 accusation against a nation, that any one man should 
 be reclining on a soft chair, digesting his mutton and 
 claret in a placid state of mind, whilst " thousands of 
 shivering wretches are starving in cellars and garrets." 
 This sort of appeal to the vulgarest of all fallacies 
 succeeds in alarming many kind and timid persons ; 
 and they accordingly, when attacked by the alms- 
 levier (who puts this phrase to their heads with as 
 much effect as if it were a pistol), " stand and deliver" 
 their money. 
 
 The fundamental error on which this weakness 
 rests, lies in believing that all this poverty is the 
 result of blameable conduct in the existing gene- 
 ration of rich men. It is, on the contrary, the con- 
 sequence of a natural and universal law — viz., the 
 predominance of present over distant motives in man, 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 65 
 
 — and is no more the fault of the rich of this period 
 than of foregone generations of rich. Poverty, in all its 
 disastrous aspects, is, and has always been, exhibited 
 in every country on tlie face of the earth ; and the 
 pen of tlie pauper's novelist would find ample subject- 
 matter for harrowing descriptions even in the most 
 thriving cities, such as Hamburg and Berne ; or even 
 in Boston, in the least pauperized country in the 
 world. It is one among many inevitable consequences 
 of human imperfection and human necessities, and can 
 only be eradicated, if at all, by a new course of pro- 
 vident and self-denying conduct on the part of our 
 working people. For to pretend that one class of 
 society could, and ought, by unceasing devotion to 
 the task of making the rest of the community prudent, 
 careful, self-controlling, and \-irtuous-minded, to 
 achieve the extinction of the faulty and vicious ten- 
 dencies of our common nature, were to outrun the 
 visions of Plato by many degrees. Man, individually, 
 follows his instincts towards pleasure of various kinds, 
 Avith more or less regard to distant consequences. 
 Classes of men do the same, and pay, like individuals, 
 the penalty of their improvidence. Governments have 
 aimed at interposition ; witness Bavaria and Prussia, 
 and, we believe, Austria, wdiere it is rendered difficult 
 for persons in indigent circumstances to get married, 
 and where, consequently, paupers are less numerous 
 than with us. But the notions of English liberty 
 which are rooted in the national mind forbid our 
 having recourse to such precautionary regulations, 
 and we are thus forced to leave the evil to the 
 operation of natural laws, of which the "positive 
 check," or death from poverty, is one. 
 
 F 
 
66 THE men and the poor. 
 
 The conclusions to which a sober contemplation of 
 the subject leads us are, first, that the evils of wide- 
 spread poverty, privation, and physical deterioration, 
 are not to be annulled by either compulsory govern- 
 ment action or private benevolence; and next, that 
 the remedy, if any such may be hoped for, must be 
 sought by enlightening the lower classes themselves 
 upon the real principles which aifect the condition of 
 individuals in civilized communities. A respect for 
 property is a strong and admirable element in the 
 English character, and nothing but rampant hunger 
 can overcome it with the large majority of our people. 
 It is the especial duty of the higher classes to cultivate 
 this sentiment in their poor dependents; whilst, on 
 the other hand, policy, no less than humane consi- 
 derations, dictates large sacrifices at critical periods 
 of scarcity or want of emplo3-ment, in the shape of 
 gifts, by the rich, in order to avoid the risk of the law 
 being violated. But the fewer of these efforts that 
 are made, the longer will capital keep ahead of the 
 pressure of population. 
 
 How far a national conscience ought to be at rest 
 under a state of things such as M. Faucher exhibits, 
 must, after all, depend upon the degree in which the 
 evil is susceptible of cure, and on the amount of efforts 
 made by society to apply the cure. That prodigious 
 exertions are made by the humane of all ranks in this 
 country — by alms, by legal provision for the destitute, 
 and by protective laws — to i-edeem their suffering 
 brethren, is matter of familiar notoriety ; yet the sore 
 does not disappear; nay, it even seems to extend its 
 baleful ravages. 
 
 We have already said that, as a feature of social 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR. 67 
 
 intercourse, charity possesses a claim to respect; 
 serving, as it does, to animate and expand the love 
 of doino; orood in the rich : the value of which senti- 
 ment it were folly to dispute. But, taking a long- 
 sighted view of the certain tendencies of actual causes 
 in operation, we must earnestly and emphatically 
 insist upon the unpalatable proposition, that alms- 
 giving does not act as a remedy either against pau- 
 perism or against the degradation of our manufac- 
 turing population ; nor, on the other hand, in a free 
 country, can a Legislature step in between a starving 
 man and his bread, be it gained by never so large a 
 sacrifice of toil, comfort, and self-respect, provided he 
 offend no law in so doing.* It is for M. Faucherf and 
 
 * A lesson on a small scale has been afforded us — in the attempts 
 of the British Parliament to protect the young against undue toil— 
 of the futility of opposing the exchange of human labour for bread, if 
 offered. 
 
 The State, aiming at the mitigation of the evil of over labour, 
 bearing upon the young, or those under eighteen years of age, 
 framed enactments with this view long since, which have for some 
 years been in operation. But the instincts of self-preservation are 
 stronger than the statutes of the realm, and we need go no farther 
 than the pages of M. Faucher to find ample details concerning the 
 way in which the benevolent intentions of the Legislature are frus- 
 trated, by collusion between greedy masters and needy workpeople.f 
 Their effect is accordingly but partial and incomplete, though not 
 wholly nugatory. 
 
 Kemain yet, moral teaching, emigration, limitation of births. With 
 regard to the first, it has always struck us that to attempt to raise the 
 moral tone of the poor factory helots, without furnishing the physical 
 means of adjusting their habits to it, was perfectly fruitless. To 
 inspire the wretched inhabitant of a Manchester cellar with a craving 
 for decency of apparel, for a cleanly abode, or for the use of books, is to 
 augment by so much his sense of privation and helplessness. We have 
 in vain listened for some one to tell the working classes that the secret 
 of ameliorating their condition is to limit their numbers. i!^obody will 
 " bell the cat." 
 
 t See tome ii. p. 102, ei seq. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE RICH AND THE POOR. 
 
 his disciples to point out a method by which bread 
 shall be earned and eaten, without such conditions, 
 by the mass of the labouring manufacturers; the 
 inviolability of property always remaining sacred and 
 unquestioned, notwithstanding. Failing in this, M. 
 Faucher will do well to temper his animadversions on 
 the English "social plague-spot" by a juster appre- 
 ciation of our benevolent struggles to bring about its 
 amendment, in time past, time present, and to come. 
 
 We venture to add, in conclusion, a few words upon 
 the much canvassed subject of emigration. It can 
 hardly be called in question, we think, that the sending 
 away of half-a-million of our people must relieve the 
 pressure upon our social system; and therefore, as 
 long as we are rich enough to buy out a portion of our 
 population, annual depletion may prove a sensible 
 benefit. But let no one persuade himself that those 
 left heJmicl are the gainers. They lose the best young 
 blood of the country, and with it large masses of 
 capital; they lose the eiFective labourer, and the 
 capital that might set him to work. The emigrant 
 profits, no doubt, but he alone. Those who remain 
 will probably discover that the void is speedily filled 
 up, and that the State must continue to expend large 
 sums in order to keep the home population at its 
 altered level. The secondary advantage, of setting 
 up distant markets for our home produce, sounds 
 j)lausibly enough; but in the actual state of the 
 commercial world, it is hardly possible to calculate 
 upon any p)ermanent demand from the dweller at the 
 Antipodes. So many casual changes in the laws of 
 production and conveyance now hang over the 
 relations of diiFereiit countries, that the wisest 
 
THE RICH AND THE POOR 69 
 
 prophets may easily be proved short-sighted by a 
 few years' experience. Still, we are not among the 
 inuTiber of those who deprecate experiments in 
 emigration ; we would have then tried in earnest, and 
 on a vast scale. It is as good an employment of the 
 surplus revenue of the nations as many others, and 
 inust benefit those who leave the mother-country, 
 whatever disappointment may result to those who 
 remain behind. 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS, 1862. 
 
 The course which public opinion has followed since this essay- 
 was printed, can scarcely be said to have changed its character 
 during the interval — now twelve years. To expect, there- 
 fore, that my views will meet with any more favour — I ought 
 to say with any less disfavour — at the present day, Avould be 
 vain. It seems to me, on the contrary, that the English 
 people become more and more determined to disregard the 
 operation of general laws, and to assume that, so long as the 
 wealth of the country goes on augmenting, it matters little 
 how rapidly the demands of indigence and the necessities of 
 the afflicted multiply upon us.* The young men of the 
 rural districts are, at the present time, being gradually 
 drawn away from farm work, by the temptation afforded by 
 higher-paid employments, such as the railways, the police 
 force, the Government works, the arsenals, the army, domestic 
 service, the constabulary, the " navvy" line, and the like. All 
 these modes of employing working hands, being more remu- 
 nerative, absorb a considerable amount of able-bodied men. 
 The farmers, accordingly, complain of an insufficient supply 
 of husbandry labourers, and of being compelled to pay higher 
 wages to those whose services they do obtain. 
 
 If such increased " wage" led to permanent benefit, by 
 raising the standard of comfort in this class, and improving 
 their way of living, it would be a welcome sign. But the 
 
 * The proportion in which the amount of Pauperism now stands to 
 the population in England, according to returns quoted in the Times 
 newspaper of July 18th, 1862, is " one in 21 of the population, or 48 
 per cent., showing an increase of 6 per cent, over that of 1861." 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL rtEMAUKS. 71 
 
 fcact is, tliat the price of every one of the articles required for 
 the family of a poor working man has risen to a level ahove 
 his means. Bread, it is true, continues at a moderate price, 
 because it is easy to obtain bread stuffs for our market from 
 foreign countries. But go one step farther: ask the village 
 shopkeeper what is now the value of bacon, cheese, butter, 
 candles, cocoa. He will tell you that they have each risen 
 SO per cent, within the last seven or eight years. Ask the 
 butcher, and he will reply that mutton has advanced from 
 6i. and Id. to %cl. and lOc?. per pound. 
 
 Thus it is evident that the slight rise which has taken 
 place iu agricultural wages is insufficient to balance the in- 
 crease in the value of commodities. Again, the excessive 
 anxiety of benevolent persons to keep village boys at school 
 beyond the age at which their labour becomes available, tends 
 to the disiidvantage of their parents. Complaints are made, 
 by education commissioners and others, that parents are 
 unwilling to keep their boys at school beyond the age of ten 
 and eleven years (just when, as they affirm, their education is 
 taking a higher character), seeing that " Billy" or "Jemmy" 
 ouoht to beo^in to earn his own livins;. Yet what can be more 
 unreasonable than to expect a labouring man, who has, by 
 the sweat of his brow, won the bread for the infant daring 
 eight or nine long years, to forego the relief which his 
 boy's labour might bring to the cottage purse ! Moreover, a 
 lad of eleven to thirteen, who has never been " put to work," 
 but who has filled up his playhours with nothing harder than 
 a game of cricket, is indisposed to become a farm servant. 
 He is unused to bear hardships, to sit shivering under a 
 hedge " crow-keeping," to walk to work through the snow, 
 to travel home alone after dark, to get wet through, and, in 
 short, shrinks from the rough apprenticeship inseparable from 
 husbandry life. 
 
 Many kind-hearted people, when they come to know what 
 the life of a farm boy is, rather rejoice than not that " poor 
 little Bobby" should avoid its hardships, and should, instead, 
 get a snug berth in the " Eagle Brewery Company's" employ, 
 
72 SUPPLEMENTAL REMAKKS. 
 
 or get work in making cartridges, for the manufacturer of those 
 articles. One gentle, fair philanthropist of my acquaintance, 
 commiserating the ennui of a cow-keeping boy in my parish, 
 kindly took him "a story-book" to relieve the weight of it. 
 Of course the " Nanny Cow" broke through the neighbour's 
 hedge into the clover, for want of being watched. But to be 
 serious. This interposition of the rich in behalf of the 
 youthful members of the population is, to call it by its right 
 name, an attempt to prevent the play of a general social 
 principle : and that, by applying their money and their per- 
 sonal influence towards the unsettling of the natural relations 
 between demand and supply. In other words, educating the 
 children in such fashion as shall render them unfitted for 
 those employments in which their fathers and mothers before 
 them earned their living ; causing humble labour to be 
 regarded with aversion, and diminishing the supply of such 
 labour to what I believe to be an inconvenient extent. 
 
 The excuse for all this interference with the distribution of 
 employment, is, ever, that it leads to a desire on the jDart of 
 the boy or girl, as it maybe, to better their condition. Now, 
 it may be questioned whether this ardour, to be shown in the 
 struggle to rise in the scale, be altogether a wholesome feel- 
 ing to inculcate. Beneficial to certam well-endowed indivi- 
 duals it certainly has been, and always will be ; but whether 
 it be a desirable thing to cultivate, in every humble breast, 
 a dissatisfaction with their actual condition : to inspire an 
 ordinary rustic with a restless longing for change, for the 
 excitement of town life, for gain, and for the means of in- 
 dulging his appetites, does, in my view, admit of grave 
 doubts. Indeed, whilst the lessons imparted by the Scripture 
 readings and the catechisms of the Church, enjoin humility 
 and contentment under the dispensations of Providejice, the 
 education enthusiasts would fain teach that, not to exert the 
 faculties we possess to " get on in the world," is to be foolish 
 and contemptible. 
 
 To return to the point where I note the causes which seem 
 to be conducing to the increased burthen of pauperism. 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS. 73 
 
 The extreme dearness of provisions weiglis down the cottager. 
 The boys eat, and earn nothing. The girls do the same. 
 The young men marry early to obtain a fireside (no longer 
 afforded, as heretofore, under their employer's roof), and have 
 numerous families. For the summer semestre all goes well 
 enough ; but winter brings slackened employment, savings 
 are rarely forthcoming, nay, are almost impossible. The rich 
 step in with charitable aid, but cannot wholly mitigate the 
 pressure of want, and the parish does the rest. Thus the 
 rich, in the first place, intercept the action of the natural 
 law, by which I mean the efforts of the children to assist in 
 maintaining the family, by insisting on their staying at school. 
 Next, the boys, for the reasons given above, quit the district, 
 thinning the parish of local " bread-winners ;" sick and infirm 
 women press upon their adult male kindred at home. Need 
 outstrips the means of relief, and hunger gradually assumes 
 the lone of importunity. The parish finally supports those 
 who cannot support themselves, and "the union" becomes 
 crowded with recipients of public bounty. This is the circle 
 in which English rural affairs commonly revolve. That it is 
 far from a healthy circle will not be contested. The point 
 to be considered is, how far the evil of pauperism is referable 
 to the faults of the poor, and how far to the mischievous 
 action of the rich. 
 
 In a country so advanced in artificial modes of living as 
 England is, nothing is more difficult than to specify and 
 follow out the effects of any one cause in bringing about social 
 changes. Nevertheless I must select a feature in our domestic 
 history, to which it seems to me fair to attribute a sensible in- 
 fluence over the well-being of our rural population. I mean 
 the enormous increase in the consumption of meat in England, 
 consequent upon the introduction of the " Norfolk system." 
 Formerly perhaps even within the memory of man — fresh 
 meat in winter was a luxury confiutd to the wealthy classes. 
 In the north of England, assuredly, salted legs of mutton 
 were as common as salted pork. There being no food to give 
 animals in winter except hay and corn, horses and cows could 
 
74 SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS. 
 
 alone be supported during this season. The culture of root 
 crops, however, speedily led to the multiplication of sheep 
 and oxen for food, and the prodigious prosperity of our manu- 
 facturing class furnishing an almost boundless demand for 
 meat, flocks and herds were extensively reared, to the corre- 
 sponding profit of the landowners. Labour, during the 
 period of this transition, being in demand, wages rose, and 
 with them the desire for more succulent aliments, and 
 not only the factory operative, but the English rustic, came 
 to regard animal food as a necessary of life all the year round. 
 To meet the increased cost of human labour, machinery was 
 invented. An augmented rate of production followed, to be 
 balanced by an augmented rate of consumption. Presently 
 the demand came to be so excessive that we were forced to 
 import meat ; that is to say, live cattle, calves, and sheep, 
 from the Dutch and the Danes. The average amount of which, 
 I believe, was in 1861, during the navigable season, some- 
 where about 3000 head per week by the river Thames alone. 
 
 That we could no longer produce meat sufficient for own 
 own consumption, became apparent. But the habit, acquired 
 at a period when the population had not reached the amount 
 we now possess, of living on meat, remained in force ; and 
 since the expense of rearing animals for food~ naturally rose 
 with the demand (because inferior land had to be cultivated 
 in order to keep pace with it), the price of meat, together 
 with that of cheese and butter, which must equally be counted 
 as animal product, has reached a point which, as I have ob- 
 served, all but forbids its purchase by the cottager. And as 
 to bacon, it is positively at a fabulous figure. The vast 
 amount of milk, too, consumed by the populous towns now-a- 
 days, by so much lessens the quantity available for cheese- 
 making, whilst the buttermilk is lost to the " swill-tub," and 
 so renders pig-feeding less and less general. 
 
 I have shown that the habit of living upon animal food, for 
 some 5'ears past widely diffused, is now checked, by the growing 
 difficulty of procuring it at a reasonable price. Butter and 
 cheese also are well nigh out of reach for the cottager, and he 
 
SUiTLEMENTAL REMARKS. 75 
 
 is obliged to depend upon his own pig, when lucky enough to 
 possess one, for his " modicum" of bacon. But this is scanty 
 measure for the ploughman or reaper. His beer, too, is 
 wretched stuff. The beer-shops and inns are mostly owned 
 by brewers, who force the tenants to vend their respective 
 mixtures. The labourer must drink this, or go without, unless 
 his wife is a " capable woman," and will brew a cask at home, 
 now and then, of wholesome liquor. 
 
 Faihng to obtain adequate sustenance in the articles of 
 meat, cheese, and beer, the labouring man buys " dripping," 
 to season his bread and potatoes withal, or the offal bits at 
 the butchers ; and, to soothe his unsatisfied cravings, indulges 
 in tobacco, even in fine weather. The women of this class 
 commonly drink tea at their meals, and I fear, occasionally, 
 gin. But they struggle on with persevering courage, often in 
 a way to excite cordial admiration and sympathy from a 
 humane observer. 
 
 Kow, it may be asked, how it comes to pass that the poor 
 man can get so little meat to eat, seeing that the nation is 
 prosperous and Vv'ealthy, the capacity of the land to produce 
 food strained to an unprecedented limit, and the generosity 
 of the rich incontestable ? 
 
 The answer is not far to seek. The working man is outbid 
 by the classes above him. 
 
 The pay given to the higher descriptions of labourers, in- 
 cluding that of the factory operatives, is larger than his, and 
 whilst these classes compete for the necessaries of life with 
 the peasantry, the latter are distanced in the race. The 
 immense consumption of meat by all English families, by 
 the army and navy, and public establishments — eleemosy- 
 nary, and of other kinds — causes the price to range above 
 what the farm-labourers can afford to pay.* 
 
 The share, then, which the rich have borne in causing 
 
 * At one time butter was largely imported, as was also cheese, from 
 the United States. But I have been informed that, for several years 
 past, our Australian colonies have proved more lucrative markets, and 
 a less amount of such commodities is sent to England. 
 
76 SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS. 
 
 certain privations to the labourer, is this : they have caused 
 such a rapid increase of population, by the skilful application 
 of existing capital to purposes of industrial life, and they so 
 largely remunerate that population whose aid enables the 
 capitalist to enrich himself, that the number of buyers at last 
 outruns the powers of the producers, and, of course, he who 
 has the smallest purchasing power must give way before the 
 possessor of the greater. This is the explanation of the extra- 
 vagant price of meat, the quantity of this particular product 
 being limited. 
 
 The rich have also had a direct share in causing the deterio- 
 ration of the beer sold to the poor, which, coupled with the 
 diminished quality of their food, is, I fear, bringing about a 
 decline in the physical strength of the working people. Owners 
 of aleliouses have been but too ready to accept brewers as 
 tenants, or, whenever tempted by price, as purchasers The 
 results are obvious. 
 
 So far forth as this active pursuit of wealth has affected, 
 indirectly, the social position of the labourer, I conceive the 
 upper classes to have lessened the amount of comfort enjoyed 
 by the peasantry, compared with that possessed by them in 
 times anterior to the present, and this in spite of the reduc- 
 tion in j^rice of coffee, tea, sugar, and spirits, all of which are 
 but secondary objects of desire. 
 
 But no working man does live, or support a family, on his 
 wages. I wish he did. He would be a better member of 
 society, and would respect himself more. The real fact is 
 that he subsists partly upon his earnings and partly upon 
 alms. The rich make up in charity the shortcomings of the 
 farmer, who, as a general rule, will never pay his men a 
 farthing more than what he can persuade them to work for, 
 whilst the exioencies of the labourer's condition force him 
 to accept whatever the farmer will give. 
 
 When the boys have been prevented from helj^ing out the 
 parental earnings, as I have set forth, and the girls, taught to 
 aim at " something better" than farm service, remain on his 
 hands, the poor man finds himself scarely able to "rub along." 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS. 77 
 
 Then, to be sure, the rich neighbours bestow charitable 
 assistance upon him, and, in one form or another, his scanty 
 means are eked out. So that our farm labourers subsist, as 
 I have said, upon the twofold source of wages and charity. 
 It would tend to raise the character of the cottager if the 
 aggregate amount were received in the shape of wages, and if 
 he were taught to rely on his own conduct for keeping clear 
 of debt. However, the rich amongst us prefer dispensing 
 their bounty in the shape of alms, rather than in the mode 
 calculated to engender a feeling of independence among their 
 humble neighbours. And this I count as another of the 
 ways in which the poor have been disadvantageously used by 
 the rich, although the rich have not designedly done them 
 injury ; to do which is altogether contrary to their disposi- 
 tion. Whatever wrong they inflict, I believe that it is unin- 
 tentionally done. Their worst fault, after all, is the neglecting 
 to improve the knowledge of their peasantry on the subject 
 which most concerns their permanent interests, viz., the true 
 relations between capital and labour, demand and supply. 
 
 Those relations lie at the bottom of all civilized societies ; 
 and although they are frequently disturbed, by the agency of 
 various artificial causes, nothing can permanently destroy or 
 supersede their influence. 
 
 In my history of the hamlet of East Burnham, I have set 
 forth the mischief of doing too little for the improvement of 
 the poor by the lord of the soil. In other parts of England, 
 perhaps too much is being done. The true way to assist 
 humble labouring folk is to help them to help thenLselves. 
 After attending to the due provision of weather-tight dwell- 
 ings, a bit of garden, and a schoolhouse, to which their children 
 may be sent (if possible, at their own expense), the care of 
 the rich should be directed to the inculcation of sound prin- 
 ciples of social economy, including the habit of saving, and 
 depositing those " savings" at interest. 
 
 But, before all, the rich should emphatically point out the 
 advantages of restricting the numbers of the poor. Too much 
 encouragement is given, in England, to improvident marriages 
 
78 SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS. 
 
 among the working people, whereby a large increase of the 
 population is induced, to the sensible injury of the class at 
 large. Hence the efforts to relieve itself by extensive emigra- 
 tion, a remedy of which it is impossible to deny the expediency, 
 although it is well to remark that each individual emigrant 
 must occasion an expenditure varying from twenty to fifty 
 pounds sterling, for freight, and subsistence during the passage. 
 So that, whilst we get rid of the surplus people, we also get 
 rid of money, not in surplus. 
 
 Whilst touching on this feature of our present condition, I 
 must be permitted to refer to an opinion, published in another 
 country, wherein the writer pretends to discover, in the im- 
 prudence of English men and women, a source of wealth and 
 power to the nation. 
 
 M. Maurice Block, writing in Le Temps, French news- 
 paper, in January, 1862, gives a statement, compiled from 
 statistical documents, showing the annual increase of popula- 
 tion in various countries, at periods comprised between 1818 
 and 1861, as follows : — 
 
 40 years. In England, from 1821 to 1861 1625. 
 
 36 years. In Prussia, „ 1822 to 1858 1440. 
 
 36 years. In Russia, „ 1822 to 1858 1410. 
 
 39 years. In Austria, „ 1818 to 1857 692. 
 
 35 years. In France, „ 1826 to 1861 340. 
 
 Now, after exhibiting this striking comparison between the 
 rate of increase in France and the rate of increase in England, 
 M. Block proceeds to lament over the small number of births 
 in his own country : — 
 
 " It is matter of notoriety (he says) that among town 
 artizans, young men are accustomed to defer their marriage 
 until the day arrives when they have acquired a certain posi- 
 tion in their trade. Once married, many of them are careful 
 to have no more offspring than can be con)petently provided 
 for, and can be fairly endowed at the death of the parents. 
 
 " This habit is likewise adopted in a great number of rural 
 districts. It is affirmed, indeed, that in several of our depart- 
 ments, the peasantry habitually limit their families to two 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS. 79 
 
 children ; and since all of these, even, do not reach a marriage- 
 ahle age, an absolute diminution of our numbers would take 
 place, if it were not that some couples are to be found, who, 
 relying on Providence, and on their own industrious efforts, 
 bring into the world a larger number than the generality. 
 
 " It is this excessive forethought (continues M. Block) which 
 retards our numerical progress." .... 
 
 Again, " If France does not possess more numerous 
 colonies, it is because children do not swarm with us, as they 
 do in England (ne pullident pas), and that, consequently, we 
 possess not the amount of over population requisite to set up 
 fresh communities !" &c. &c. 
 
 Few persons can, I think, fail to perceive, in the almost 
 ludicrous lamentations of M. Block, the source of the difference 
 between the condition of the French people, taken as a whole, 
 and that of the English people. Those to whose imaginations 
 the ideas of boundless wealth carry unmixed delight and 
 pride, will deem the English form of existence the preferable 
 one. But persons of a really philanthropic turn of mind will 
 probably regard the prudent, independent habits of the French 
 peasant with approving sympathy. Nay. they may even come 
 to regard the advantage of setting up distant colonies as 
 dearly purchased, by the painful sacrifices involved in a system 
 of inconsiderate, improvident multiplication of families, 
 necessitating, as a last resource against want, an expatriation 
 from country, coupled with, possibly, a life-long separation 
 from home and friends. 
 
NOTICE 
 
 OP THE 
 
 LIFE OF THOMAS MOORE, 
 
 Being the substance of an Article in No. CII. of the 
 " Edinburgh Review." 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The author of the following pages has deemed it 
 but fair to herself to reproduce, for private circula- 
 tion, the " article" such as she intended to offer it to 
 the readers of the Edinhurgh Review. 
 
 The author thought (and still thinks) that the 
 character of the late Thomas Moore had received 
 somewhat hard measure at the hands of contemporary 
 critics. Whether, in the review here taken, she has 
 or has not succeeded in presenting a fair account of 
 Moore's merits and failings, it must be for the reader 
 to judge. But one thing is certain, viz., that such as 
 he was, the best and highest in the land coveted the 
 possession of his society and friendship with eager- 
 ness; so that, if Moore really was what some have 
 striven to make it appear that he was, then the 
 gentlemen and ladies of England must lie open to 
 the reproach of a signal want of taste and discern- 
 ment. 
 
 There is no escaping from this conclusion, except 
 by admitting the substantial claims of their Idol to 
 the admiration and affection of which he was the 
 object. And it may be observed, in behalf of this 
 
 G 2 
 
84 rREFACE. 
 
 much censured favourite of all ranks, that he enjoyed 
 his popularity to the last; only ceasing to receive 
 the cordial attentions of his friends when the sad 
 visitation of physical and mental infirmity rendered 
 it imperative on him to renounce all commerce with 
 society. 
 
 H. G. 
 
 London, October, 1854. 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore. Edited by 
 the Eight Honourable Lord John Eussell, M.P. Vols. I. to VI. 
 8vo. London: 1853. 
 
 To those who, like ourselves, are verging upon their 
 "grand climacteric" (all the world knows we were 
 born in 1802), these volumes cannot fail to afford 
 many an hour of delightful and interesting reading. 
 We confess to having been absorbed in the retrospec- 
 tive details of a period which, in a social and literary 
 point of view, had so much to distinguish it; details 
 sketched by one who floated on the tide of pleasur- 
 able existence in both these forms, and whose capacity 
 for enjoyment seems to have kept pace with his 
 opportunities. 
 
 Like many men of ardent sensibility, Thomas 
 Moore had a vivid conception of the value of posthu- 
 mous celebrity. To be able to interest his fellow 
 men and women in his personal feelings, in his plea- 
 sures and pains, his triumphs and successes, was with 
 Moore an object of undisguised solicitude; and to this 
 we are indebted, in great part, though not entirely, 
 for a minute record of his almost daily life, his inner- 
 most thoughts, and his relations with society during 
 the meridian of his existence. If it be objected — as, 
 indeed, we have already heard it objected — to this 
 publication, that it is little else than " a tissue of 
 
86 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 egoistical, vain, and trivial passages in the life of an 
 iniprovideiit, selfish adventurer," the answer would 
 be, that all autobiography, to be worth reading at all, 
 must be egoistical and vain ; because nobody would 
 take so much trouble except for the sake of being 
 allowed to talk of themselves all through the work, 
 and to dwell, ad libitum^ upon their own merits and 
 achievements. The use of the personal pronoun has 
 long been, by a very natural instinct of self-protec- 
 tion, restricted within narrow limits by the higher 
 classes of society ; hence poor Moore could not talk of 
 his ovHi glory and successes whilst alive, and it was 
 a hard case, considering how much he had to be vain 
 of. To fly to his closet, and record the flattering 
 incidents of the day, was his best and most obvious 
 resource. By thus " entering up" the tributes as 
 they poured in, little and great, Moore indemnified 
 himself, by anticipation, for the suppression of all 
 signs of present pride and satisfaction. And since 
 we have discovered incontrovertible evidence in these 
 volumes of the prodigious amount of praise and 
 flattery heaped upon his head, our wonder — recollect- 
 ing how unaffectedly he bore his honours — becomes 
 greater and greater as we read. 
 
 Until the appearance of this publication, it had not, 
 indeed, been fully present to us how extensively 
 Moore was read and relished, nor how widely his 
 reputation, whether as a poet, as a wit, a lyric com- 
 poser, or, God save the mark ! a sound political writer, 
 had circulated, in Europe as well as in the British 
 Isles. Yet it cannot be denied, with the proofs 
 before us, that in each of these walks of composition, 
 Thomas Moore was regarded with enthusiastic admi- 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 87 
 
 ration by contemporaries, throughout the social scale, 
 from the " man of letters" proper, " down to the Miss 
 in her teens." And as to personal successes, no one, 
 surely, ever surpassed him. By his touching sen- 
 timental singing, he enchanted all who were suscep- 
 tible to the charms of music ; by his vivacity; sparkling 
 conversation, and literary accomplishments, he cap- 
 tivated those of his o-svn sex who prized convivial 
 talents, whilst his more solid merits secured for him 
 a place in the esteem and friendly regard of some of 
 our most celebrated countrymen. Add to these 
 sources of honourable gratification, the remarkable 
 fact that Moore enjoyed, and deserved to enjoy, his 
 own self-respect, and cherished his mental indepen- 
 dence throughout all vicissitudes of life, and we have 
 before us perhaps the amplest justification of human 
 vanity which purely personal quahties can well 
 furnish. 
 
 A general outline of Thomas Moore's life will, we 
 apprehend, be acceptable to most of our readers. 
 Born in 1779, of decent, but obscure Irish parentage, 
 in Dublin, he had the advantage of being the son of 
 a clever, active-minded woman, who seems to have 
 steadily kept in view the main purpose of forcmg 
 education upon the boy, as far as her slender means 
 could serve. Moore disliked study, and would much 
 rather have sought his fortune as an actor, or (what 
 he would have liked still better) as a harlequin! 
 But Mrs. Moore compelled him, with her firm, yet 
 affectionate authority, to acquire such an amount of 
 learning as should qualify him to make his way in 
 some one of the walks of educated Labour. This 
 purpose accomplished, by his having graduated at 
 
88 MEMOIRS OF MOOHE. 
 
 Trinity College, Dublin, young Moore quitted the 
 parental roof, and at the age of nineteen dropped 
 down into a humble lodging near Portman Square, 
 with but a small sum of money in his pocket, and 
 witliout the slightest plan for earning his present 
 subsistence. He possessed scarcely any friends, and 
 knew nobody of any mark in the world, but after a 
 while contrived, by means of some letters of introduc- 
 tion he had brought from Dublin, to gain admission 
 into a few families (chiefly Irish, however) where he 
 could pass his evenings and occasionally dine. After 
 getting himself admitted of the Middle Temple, he 
 went back to Dublin for a space, but shortly returned 
 to London (in 1799), with the double object of pro- 
 secuting his legal studies and of procuring subscrip- 
 tions to his translation of the Odes of Anacreon ; 
 the latter endeavour was, by the fortunate accident of 
 Dr. Lawrence pronouncing a very favourable judg- 
 ment upon the work, attended with unlooked-for 
 success. At this period Moore makes the acquaint- 
 ance of Lord Moira (also by letters of recommenda- 
 tion from Irish friends), who takes kind notice of 
 him, and asks him to his country seat, Donington 
 Park. With the Marquis of Lansdowne, too (father 
 of the present peer), he becomes acquainted, by solicit- 
 ing his subscription to the Anacreon^ which Lord 
 Lansdowne consents to give, and adds an invitation 
 to young Moore to call upon him in London. The 
 Anacreon comes out at length, with a brilliant 
 list of patrons' names attached to it, and makes a 
 decided " hit." Moore becomes a " Lion," is fete in 
 fashionable circles, gets introduced to the Prince of 
 Wales (to whom, by the way, the Anacreon was 
 
MEMOIRS OP MOOEE. 89 
 
 dedicated, by " permission"), pays a visit at Don- 
 ington Park, is so much liked there that it is with 
 difficulty he can get away ; and, in short, finds himself 
 completely launched upon the great world. Here are 
 extracts from letters addressed to his mother early in 
 1801, at the age of two-and-twenty : — 
 
 " Mt dearest Mothee, — You may imagine I do not want society 
 here, when I tell you that last night I had six invitations. Every- 
 thing goes on swimmingly with me. I dined with the Bishop of Meath 
 on Friday last, and went to a party at Mrs. Crewe's in the evening. 
 My songs have taken such a rage : even surpassing what they did in 
 Dublin 
 
 " There is not a night that I have not three parties on my string, 
 but I take Hammersley's advice and send showers of apologies. The 
 night before last, Lady Harrington sent her servant after me to two 
 or three places, with a ticket for the ' Ancient Music,' which is the 
 king's concert, and which is so select, that those who go to it ought to 
 have been at court before. Lady H. got the ticket from one of the 
 princesses, and the servant at last found me where I dined," &c. &c. 
 
 . . . . " Never was there any wight so idly busy as I am. Nothing 
 but racketting ; it is, indeed, too much, and I intend stealing at least a 
 fortnight's seclusion, by leaving word at my door that I am gone into 
 the country. I last night went to a little supper after the Opera, 
 where the Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert were ; I was introduced to 
 her 
 
 " I dine with Lord Moira to-morrow, and go in the evening with 
 Lady Charlotte to an assembly at the Countess of Cork's 
 
 " I assure you I am six feet high to-day, after discharging my debt 
 of 701. yesterday, and I have still some copies on my hand to dispose 
 of for myself. The new edition will soon be out," &c 
 
 " I was last night at a ball — everybody was there — two or three of 
 the princes, the stadtholder, &c. &c. You may imagine the affability of 
 the Prince of Wales, when his address to me was, ' How do you do, 
 Moore ? I am glad to see you.' .... 
 
 " I go on as usual ; I am happy, careless, comical, — everything I 
 could wish : not very rich, nor yet quite poor; all I desire is that 
 my dear ones at home may be as contented and easy in mind as I 
 am." .... 
 
 Such an extraordinary start into popularity and 
 favour with the London world afforded the young 
 poet of two-and-twenty a hopeful glance into a lite- 
 
90 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 rary career, and he seems accordingly to have 
 neglected the pursuit of " Grim Gribber"* for the 
 flowery paths of imaginative composition. In this 
 mood he gladly avails himself of Lord Moira's kind 
 hospitality, and spends three or four weeks alone at 
 Donington, storing his mind by assiduous reading, 
 for which a fine library supplied ample resources. 
 Strange to say, during this studious seclusion, Moore 
 appears to have had but slender longings after the 
 excitement of the London salons : and evidences are 
 thickly strewn throughout the pages of his Diary 
 that a taste for rational and even simple occupations 
 was not wanting when his friends would permit him 
 its exercise. 
 
 Lord Moira was not long in procuring for his 
 countryman, what was hailed by the latter as a piece 
 of most gratifying good fortune, the appointment of 
 Registrar of the Admiralty Court of Bermuda. In 
 spite of the sneers with which this piece of prefer- 
 ment has been mentioned, as having been productive 
 of more injury than benefit to the recipient, Moore 
 himself never regarded it but with becoming grati- 
 tude towards his noble patron. He thus writes to 
 his mother on learning the news of his appoint- 
 ment : — 
 
 " Septemter 12, 1803. 
 
 " Mt deaeest Mothee, — I enclose you a note I received from 
 Merry yesterday, by wliich you will perceive that everything is in 
 train for my departure. Nothing could be more lucky 
 
 " Heaven smiles upon my project, and I see nothing in it now but 
 hope and happiness 
 
 " If I did not make a shilling by it, the new character it gives to my 
 pursuits, the claim it affords me upon Government, the absence I shaU 
 
 * So Jeremy Bentham called the study of Law. 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 91 
 
 have from all the frippery follies that would hang on my career for ever 
 in thia country, — all these are objects invaluable in themselves, ab- 
 stracted from the pecuniary 
 
 " My dear father should write to Carpenter, and thank him for the 
 very friendly assistance he has given me ; without that assistance the 
 breeze would be fair in vain for me" &c. &c. 
 
 After a year's absence, chiefly at his post in the 
 confessedly delicious island of Bermuda, but making 
 besides an agreeable tour in the United States and 
 in Canada, in his way to embark for England, Moore 
 returned, to the undisguised joy of all his friends. 
 He was allowed to appoint a deputy in his place at 
 Bermuda, and began to turn his mind to bookmaking 
 as a means of earning money. On Mr. Pitt's death 
 a new political combination seemed to promise some 
 advantage to Moore, and in fact. Lord Moira did 
 obtain the comfortable berth of barrack-master in 
 Dublin for the father, pending some suitable promo- 
 tion in favour of the son. The latter, on the qui vive 
 of expectation, writes to his friend Miss Godfrey 
 (July, 1806), "Lord Moira has told me that the 
 commissionership intended for me is to be in Ireland, 
 and that if there are any such appointments, I am 
 to have one of them. Such are my plans, and such 
 are my hopes. I wait but for the arrival of the 
 Edinburgh Review^ and then ' a long farewell to all 
 my greatness.' London shall never see me act the 
 farce of gentlemanship in it any more," &c. &c. 
 
 The Edinhurgh Review arrives, and contains, to 
 Moore's infinite mortification, a somewhat contemp- 
 tuous notice of his new production {Odes and 
 Epistles). 
 
 Hence the well-known duel with Jeffrey; or, 
 rather, the prelude to one, for the belligerent parties 
 
92 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 were interrupted by peace officers. And at this 
 point of Moore's history there enters upon the scene 
 one whose constant kindness, whose undeviating attach- 
 ment, friendly counsel and assistance, must be counted 
 among the most precious possessions of the poet 
 throughout his life. We allude to Mr. Rogers, who 
 stepped in to ojQPer bail for Moore's appearance if 
 called upon. However, the less that is added about 
 this silly affair the better. The would-be comba- 
 tants became firm friends within a year or two, and 
 when Moore's unfortunate affair of the Bermuda 
 defalcation fell out (in 1818), Jeffrey was among 
 the first to tender his contribution in aid. 
 
 We gather from the Letters that Moore spent 
 great part of the years 1807-8 at Donington Park, 
 by permission of its usually absent lord, amusing 
 himself, and working at the same time, on Lord- 
 knows-what literary projects. " I read" (he says to 
 Miss Godfrey in a letter dated March, 1807) "much 
 more than I write, and think much more than 
 either." Again, to his mother (April in this year) : — 
 " The time flies over me as swift as if I was in the 
 midst of dissi]3ation, which is a tolerable proof that I 
 am armed for either field, for folly or for thought. 
 The family do not talk of coming till June, and if 
 that be the case, I shall not budge." 
 
 But few letters are to be found relating to the 
 period from 1807 to 1811 inclusive, which Moore 
 seems to have distributed between Donington Park, 
 Dublin, and lodgings in London. We learn, how- 
 ever, by looking into his Notices of the Life of Lord 
 Byron^ that it was in the autumn of the year 1811 
 that he formed the acquaintanceof that distinguished 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 93 
 
 genius. It arose out of a little epistolary skirmish 
 between them about a supposed imputation upon 
 Moore's veracity, Avhich ended by an offer from the 
 noble poet (having meanwhile " explained" it to the 
 satisfaction of his correspondent) to meet him on 
 amicable terms. It was at the dinner-table of Mr. 
 Rogers that Byron and Moore first came together; 
 the fourth member of the party being Thomas 
 Campbell, who (as was, indeed, the case with Mr. 
 Rogers himself) also enjoyed Lord Byron's company 
 on that day for the first time. 
 
 This memorable introduction between Moore and 
 Byron resulted in an intimacy and an attachment on 
 both sides, which never lost its charm to the latest 
 moment of Byron's existence. The rapidity with 
 which their mutual friendship grew up was somewhat 
 extraordinary, as Moore himself admits. But it is 
 not so surprising when we recall the captivations of 
 Moore's society on the one side, and the admiration 
 which Byron excited in the breast of " Anacreon" 
 on the other; opportunities of meeting, too, were 
 furnished in abundance, since they frequented the 
 same circles, and -svere at this period both plunged in 
 dissipation and folly; that is to say, in 1812, and 
 again in the London season of 1813, wherein Lord 
 Byron's fame first rose to its full height (on the 
 appearance of Childe Harold)^ and the London 
 world pursued him with the most extravagant 
 homage and adulation. Moore's Life of Byron tells 
 us, indeed, more of himself at this stage of his history 
 than is revealed by the present publication, whilst 
 Lord Byron's fondness for his friend's company is 
 thus attested : " Moore, the epitome," writes Byron 
 
94 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 to another friend, "of all that is exquisite in personal 
 or poetical accomplishments."* 
 
 During one of Moore's Irish trips he formed part 
 of that famed theatrical society which figured on the 
 Kilkenny boards; the male actors being amateurs, 
 and the female ones mostly, if not all, professional, 
 having at their head the " star" of the hour, the 
 celebrated Miss O'Neil. Moore acted well, especially 
 in comedy, as we have been informed by one who 
 was fortunate enough to witness those remarkable 
 performances about the year 1810. Among other 
 parts, his personation of Mungo in the agreeable 
 opera of The Padlock^ was, it is said, eminently 
 happy. 
 
 Two sisters, both of them extremely attractive in 
 person, as well as irreproachable in conduct, also 
 formed a part of this " corps ;" acting, singing, and 
 ever and anon dancing, to the delight of the audience. 
 With one of these Moore fell desperately in love, 
 and being regarded favourably in return by Miss 
 Elizabeth Dyke, he a few months later united himself 
 with her in marriage, without, it would seem, 
 acquainting his parents with his intention. The 
 ceremony took place at St. Martin's church, in Lon- 
 don, in March, 1811, and Mrs. Thomas Moore was 
 introduced to her husband's London friends durino^ 
 the same spring. By these she was cordially received, 
 although there was but one opinion among them as 
 to the imprudence of the step in Moore's notoriously 
 narrow circumstances. 
 
 Not to lose his privilege of using Donington library, 
 
 * Life of Byron, vol. ii. p. 95. 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 95 
 
 the young couple established themselves in a small 
 cottage at Kegworth, within a few miles of the park, 
 Moore working continually in the library for many 
 months. But towards the end of 1812 all hopes of 
 advancement through the favour of Lord Moira, after 
 many an anxious ebb and flow, finally vanished. 
 That nobleman, whose affairs had become irreme- 
 diably embarrassed, came to a compromise, as one 
 may say, with his political principles. Not liking to 
 throw them overboard, by joining a government 
 resolutely opposed to Catholic emancipation, he 
 judged it nowise disreputable to him to accept at its 
 hands the Governor-Generalship of India, which he 
 endeavoured to persuade his friends to regard as 
 more a military than a civil appointment. On learn- 
 ing Lord Moira's acceptance of this splendid post, 
 both Moore and his friends appear to have cherished 
 an expectation that his Lordship would propose to 
 take Moore with him to India in some capacity or 
 another, whereby his fortunes might be materially 
 improved. One can hardly comprehend how 
 " friends" such as Miss Godfrey and Lady Donegal, 
 for instance, or, indeed, how Moore himself, could 
 have failed to perceive that Lord Moira, the avowed 
 intimate of the Regent, owing this appointment to 
 the personal will and protection of his royal master, 
 was utterly mcapacitated from extending his patro- 
 nage to the notorious satirist of that master. With- 
 out going so far as to ascribe to the Prince any 
 interposition in the matter, the simple fact of Moore's 
 having kept up a running fire of ridicule and amused 
 the town with lampoons against the Regent, for 
 many months previous, ought, we should have ima- 
 
90 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 gined, to have been amply sufficient to account for 
 Lord Moira's conduct.* And when we recall the 
 peculiarly stinging and personal quality of those 
 epigrammatic thrusts, we cannot but wonder at Lord 
 John's mild manner of characterizing them, saying, 
 in a note referring to the Ticopenny Post-Bag^ 
 that " they are full of fun and humour, but without 
 
 ill-nature !"t 
 
 But whatever he felt, or his friends thought, about 
 this constructive desertion on the part of Lord Moira, 
 the truth was that Moore found himself thereby 
 
 * The follovring entry, under Dec. 19, 1825, throws some illustration 
 upon Lord Moira's reasons for the course which he took on this occa- 
 sion : — " The night before last I received a letter from Crampton, 
 enclosing one from Shaw (the Lord-Lieutenant's secretary), the purport 
 of which was, that the Lord-Lieutenant meant to continue my father's 
 half-pay in the shape of a pension to my sister. Eesolved, of course, 
 to decHne this favour, but wrote a letter full of thankfulness to Cramp- 
 ton. Find since that this was done at Crampton's suggestion : that 
 Lord Wellesley spoke of the difficulty there was in the xcay, from the 
 feelings the King most naturally entertained toicards me, and from 
 himself being the personal friend of the King, but that, on further con- 
 sideration, he saw he could do it without any reference to the other 
 side of the Channel, and out of the pension-fund placed at his disposal 
 as Lord-Lieutenant." (Vol. v. p. 24.) 
 
 t In the preface to Moore's ninth vol. of WorTcs, &c., the author 
 takes pains to disavow having been actuated by any malignant feeling 
 against the Government of that day ; and, indeed, seeks to excuse 
 himself by saying he wrote these squibs as party missiles, without 
 •wishing any harm to their subjects ; adding, that the late Lord Holland 
 also regretted the acrimony with which the Whig party waged their 
 warfare in 1812 and following years against the Prince, his govern- 
 ment, and friends. We are inclined to credit Moore's assertion, that 
 he himself was visited with something like self-reproach, twenty years 
 later ; whilst, that Lord Holland, whose generous soul was incapable 
 of harbouring resentful emotions after the occasion was past, should 
 have looked back upon former enmities and political conflicts with 
 unaffected regret, is nowise surprising. But this admission made, 
 we are bound to say that the poet, as well as the peer, loere engaged in 
 cordial combination for party ends, with the most violent of their 
 political allies. 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 97 
 
 completely cast adrift upon the waters, shipwrecked 
 and disheartened. Nevertheless, he so far compressed 
 his feelings of disappointment as to speak of his 
 patron's past kindnesses and good offices as " sealing 
 his lips" against complaint. (Vol. i. p. 323.) On 
 quitting England for the East, Lord Moira sent 
 Moore fifteen dozen of his choicest wine as a parting 
 token of regard. 
 
 Nothing could be more natural under the circum- 
 stances, than that the poor poet should find in 
 Holland House a " harbour of refuge" in his distress. 
 Admitted to familiar intimacy with the distinguished 
 society which habitually met within those time- 
 honoured walls, he became more and more attached 
 to the Whig party, and exerted his talents in its 
 service with renewed vigour : producing at intervals 
 (in the columns of the Morning Chronicle) some of 
 the most pungent and humorous satires which poli- 
 tical warfare has ever engendered. They were 
 extensively circulated and relished at the time, and 
 are perhaps destined to be remembered as chefs- 
 d'oeuvre of their kind, after his other works shall be 
 forgotten. 
 
 On this passage in Moore's career much censure 
 has been pronounced, even more than the case called 
 for, we think; although it must be confessed, that to 
 drive a trade in scurrility, as Moore did, — to combine 
 party warfare with pecuniary profit, — exposes the 
 individual who does so to a certain measure of moral 
 reprobation. There have not been wanting, however, 
 in our own day, examples of this twofold employment 
 of talent in the persons of well-known characters, 
 who have not thereby been placed under any sort of 
 
 H 
 
98 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 ban for their pains. Moore himself felt at times 
 pricks of conscience at writing lampoons which were 
 to be paid for, but salved over the sore by reflecting 
 (and with some justice too) that his " squibs" served 
 to promote a good cause, — a " set-off" not always 
 within the grasp of a professional newspaper scribe. 
 
 We find Mr. and Mrs. Moore in 1813 at another 
 and more attractive little dwelling, called Mayfield, 
 near Ashbourne, at which Mr. Rogers pays them a 
 friendly visit. And now children begin to cluster 
 about the poor poet's hearth, whilst his wife's health, 
 being delicate and weak to a deplorable degree, gives 
 him much uneasiness, as, in fact, it continued to do 
 throughout the whole of his life. No topic, always 
 excepting that of Lord Lansdowne (who is the 
 " Protagonist" of the Diary) ^ is half so often re- 
 curred to as the unhappiness which " Bessy's" bad 
 health occasions him. 
 
 Although intent upon his long-meditated task, 
 Lalla Rookh, Moore contrived to support himself 
 and his family by means of news^pa^eY facetice, humo- 
 rous satires, " Melodies," and songs (an opera was 
 even composed), from 1811 to 1817. His connexion 
 with Richard Power, the musical publisher in the 
 Strand, was for years his main stay, and a " bill upon 
 Power," to be taken up or not (as the case might be) 
 when due, by the efforts of his pen and fancy, was 
 the regular issue out of every embarrassment (and 
 they were not few) which occurred. 
 
 A letter written in 1812 furnishes a tolerably 
 clear notion of the position in which Moore's affairs 
 stood after the downfall of his prospects of advance- 
 ment : — 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 99 
 
 " My dearest Mother, — I have not had an answer from Dalby 
 yet, but am in tlie same mind about retirintr somewhere, and I should 
 prefer Donington, both from the society and the library 
 
 " I don't know whether I told you before (and if I did not, it was 
 my uncertainty about it for some time which prevented me), that the 
 Powers give me between them five hundred a year for my music ; 
 the agreement is for seven years, and as much longer as I choose to 
 
 say So you see, darling mother ! my prospect is by no means 
 
 an unpromising one, and the only sacrifice I must make is, the giving 
 ■up London society, which involves me in great expenses, and leaves 
 me no time for the industry that alone would enable me to support 
 them ; this I shall do without the least regret," [Memoirs, vol. i. 
 p. 274.) 
 
 The long-promised work, after prodigious brain- 
 spinning and careful polishing, made its appearance 
 in 1817, fully realizing the expectations entertained 
 of it by the public, for a more complete success has 
 rarely attended an author. Lalla Roohh was univer- 
 sally read, admired, and praised. It was dramatized at 
 Berlin, and acted there by the Court itself; was trans- 
 lated into more than one European language, as well 
 as into Persian, and, in short, enjoyed a reign of more 
 than average duration in the realms of literature. 
 The " Letters" teem with testimonies to its extraor- 
 dinary attraction, and these, too, from superior judges 
 of literary merit. This must appear surprising to 
 the readers of fiction of the present day, for whom 
 the adventures, sorrows, and even loves, of such fan- 
 ciful and poetical beings would probably yield but 
 slight interest : certainly less than those of the green- 
 grocer or factory-spinner. But thirty-five years 
 necessarily bring altered tastes upon their wing. 
 
 In one short year after this imaginative tale came 
 out, Moore writes (under date of March, 1818) to his 
 mother, " They will soon go to press with a seventh 
 edition of Lalla Rookh." Messrs Longman paid the 
 
 H 2 
 
100 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 author no less than three thousand guineas for the 
 copyright. It was dedicated to Mr. Rogers, to whom, 
 indeed, it was in great measure indebted for its 
 origin. " The subject," writes Moore to his friend 
 Dalton, in 1814, " is one of Rogers's suggesting, and 
 so far I am lucky, for it quite enchants me; and, if 
 what old Dionysius the critic says be true, that it is 
 impossible to write disagreeably upon agreeable sub- 
 jects, I am not without hopes that I shall do some- 
 thing which will not disgrace me." 
 
 The sum Moore received for Lalla Roohh^ though 
 large, did not conduce so much as might have been 
 supposed to his independence. Writing to Mrs. Moore 
 (his mother) in 1817, he says, "I am to draw a 
 thousand pounds for the discharge of my debts, and 
 to leave the other two thousand in their hands (re- 
 ceiving a bond for it) .... The annual interest 
 upon this (which is a hundred pounds) my father is 
 to draw upon them for quarterly, and this, I hope, 
 with his half-pay, will make you tolerably comfort- 
 able. By this arrangement, you see I do not 
 touch a sixpence of the money for my own present 
 use . . ," 
 
 Ashbourne was now abandoned, and Moore took a 
 cottage at Hornsey. " Living in London is what I 
 do not now like at all," he says to his mother (May, 
 1817). About this same date he writes to her of a 
 "dinner" he had been at; and adds, "It will amuse 
 you to find that Croker was the person that gave 
 my health. I could not have a better proof of the 
 station which I hold in the public eye than that 
 Croker should claim friendship with me before such 
 men as Peel, the Duke of Cumberland, &c. I was 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 101 
 
 received with very flattering enthusiasm by the meet- 
 ing . .^ ." 
 
 Having, as he conceived, earned a claim to enjoy a 
 holiday, by the achievement of his task, Moore set 
 oif, in company with his friend J\lr. Rogers, on a trip 
 to Paris. During the first few years which followed 
 upon the peace of 1815, there was a positive disloca- 
 tion of English society going on, caused by the eager 
 rush of our countrymen across the Channel. A long 
 privation of the delights of continental travel had 
 whetted the appetite for such enjoyments, and the 
 English moved off in masses, resembling, it might be 
 said, nothing so much as the break up of the " Polar 
 Pack." Moore, like the rest, becomes enchanted with 
 Paris, and writes home, " If I can persuade Bessy to 
 the measure, it is my intention to come and live here 
 for two or three years." However, on his return, 
 which took place a few weeks later, the loss of a child 
 (being the second blow of the kind) checked all pro- 
 jects of a foreign residence. A cottage within a walk 
 of Bowood, shortly after offering an eligible " perch," 
 the mourners removed to that humble yet pleasant 
 home, in which the poet was fated to end his days ; the 
 happiest of which, probably, after all, may be said 
 to have been passed whilst master of Sloperton 
 Cottage. 
 
 An unlooked-for calamity, which occurred in the 
 following year, clouded over his prospects just as 
 Moore was beginning to see his way to independence 
 and honourable ease.* There was, indeed, one con- 
 soling circumstance which lessened the general gloom 
 
 * The Bermuda deputy absconded with the proceeds of a ship and 
 cargo deposited in his hands, for which Moore was held answerable. 
 
102 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 of his position, namely, the cordial and numerous 
 offers of assistance tendered by generous friends. 
 
 But although he was, as might be supposed, wholly 
 unequal to deal with the embarrassments he saw 
 thickening around him, he resolutely declined pecu- 
 niary aid, and determined to work out his own re- 
 demption by the industrious application of his indi- 
 vidual talents. (Vol. ii. p. 85.) The history of this 
 long, though fortunately effectual, struggle, it were 
 superfluous to recapitulate here ; but the issue may 
 be stated as havino; been creditable to Moore's sense 
 of self-respect and integrity of character. The only 
 friend who, as we believe, eventually enjoyed the pri- 
 vilege of contributing to his enfranchisement, was the 
 noble editor of these volumes; the poet permitting 
 him to apply towards the extinction of his Bermuda 
 obligations a sum of 200/., the produce of his lord- 
 ship's own literary labours. 
 
 The Diary commences with the month of August, 
 1818, a few months after the Bermuda misfortune 
 had happened ; and gives indications of Moore's being 
 already engaged upon his Life of Sheridan. Notwith- 
 standing the uneasy state of mind in which he lived 
 at this time, from apprehensions of a prison hang- 
 ing over him, such was the indomitable cheerfulness 
 of the man, that he writes to Lady Donegal from his 
 new home (in May, 1818): — "For nothing but to 
 gratify my poor mother, would I leave just now my 
 sweet, quiet cottage, where, in spite of proctors, depu- 
 ties, and all other grievances, 1 am as happy as, I 
 believe, this world will allow anyone to be; and if I 
 could but give the blessing of health to the dear cot- 
 tager by my side, I would defy the devil and all his 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 103 
 
 works, and Sir William Scott to boot." (Yol. ii. p. 
 137.) 
 
 An inexhaustible flow of spirits, coupled with a 
 boundless elasticity of character and a sanguine 
 temper, proved through life Moore's master-key to 
 happiness. And we shall see as his diary proceeds 
 that few mortals have ever been so largely blest with 
 this " sunshine of the breast." When it is considered 
 how indissolubly men usually connect the possession 
 of wealth with the enjoyment of existence — how we 
 Britons " toil and moil" to acquire it, and what sacri- 
 fices we make to escape from comparative poverty — 
 the spectacle of a man " without a shilling to call his 
 own," flourishing in all the pride of aristocratical 
 friendships and culling the choicest pleasures life 
 affords, really becomes almost too much for one's 
 patience. It may be doubted whether, at any one 
 period of his life, Moore knew what it was to be sol- 
 vent; yet he slept tranquilly, in the persuasion that 
 he carried in his nightcap a talisman, an Aladdin's 
 lamp, which he had only to rub to become rich ; at 
 least rich enough for his and " Bessy's" moderate 
 wants. Nay, more, as he mounts to his garret in 
 Bury-street, farthing candle in hand, he can dwell on 
 the recollection of having, half-an-hour before, shone 
 a " star of the first water" in the bright firmament of 
 Almack's, and formed the subject of rivalry between 
 ladies of rank, beauty, and fashion, to obtain the pri- 
 vilege of possessing him as their guest. 
 
 We turn now to the reverse of the picture — hard 
 literary labour. 
 
 The Life of Sheridan consumed the greater portion 
 of the author's working time from 1822 to 1825, 
 
104 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 costing him a world of pains, and not a few disagree- 
 able and tiresome researches. Embarrassing doubts 
 as to the colouring proper to be given to certain 
 passages, and honest disgust at the generally discre- 
 ditable cast of the character he had to pourtray, were 
 frequently present with the biographer, who obviously 
 felt his task oppressive. Here is an entry of Sept., 
 1818 : — " In the garden all day — delicious weather — 
 at my Sheridan task from ten till three ... I often 
 wish Sheridan, Miss Linley, and Matthews at the 
 devil. This would have been a day for poetry, and 
 yet thus have I lost all this most poetical summer." 
 (VoL ii. p. 173.) 
 
 Another entry at this period is worth quoting, as 
 an example of Moore's power of giving himself up to 
 present feeling, regardless of harassing contingencies : 
 — " One day so like another, that there is little by 
 which to distinguish their features; and these are the 
 happiest ; true cottage days, tranquil and industrious. 
 .... Pursued my task all day in the garden," &c. 
 
 The amusing jeu d^esprit which his trip to Paris 
 gave rise to, The Fudge Family^ and which had con- 
 siderable vogue, furnished a welcome addition to " the 
 supplies." By way of keeping them up, too, he ex- 
 cogitated another piquant^ though not perha]3S very 
 felicitous satire, Tom Cribb's Memorial^ of which 
 Moore himself felt not, we suspect, particularly proud. 
 There is in the Diary the following sentence: — 
 " Went on with the slang epistle. It seems profana- 
 tion to write such buffoonery in the midst of this 
 glorious sunshine; but, alas! money must be had; 
 and these trifles bring it soonest and easiest." (Vol. 
 ii. p. 218.) 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 105 
 
 The Bermuda matter wearing a serious aspect 
 towards the middle of the following year (1819), 
 Moore judged it prudent to take steps for avoiding 
 legal pursuit. He had some idea of betaking himself 
 to Holyrood House, in expectation of which Sir 
 James Mackintosh writes to him thus : — " You will 
 find in Edinburgh as many friends and admirers 
 as even you could find anywhere." But the pros- 
 pect of going to the Continent, in company with his 
 friend Lord John Russell, came between, and decided 
 him upon passing a few months abroad; the rather 
 as Lord and Lady Lansdowne were contemplating 
 an excursion to Paris, and Moore expected to meet 
 them in that city. 
 
 All this came duly to pass : moreover. Lord John and 
 Moore travelled on together across the Alps, as far as 
 Milan, where the friends took leave of each other, not 
 without regret. Moore, full of curiosity to see more of 
 Italy, sets off alone, in a crazy vehicle bought at Milan 
 for the journey, and first wends his way, by Brescia, 
 Padua, &c., to the spot where Lord Byron, who had 
 recently achieved his most striking exploit in the paths 
 of gallantry, was at this time residing near Fusina. 
 To our thinking, this journal of Moore's Italian tour 
 affords the most interesting matter of any in the 
 volumes. We hardly call to mind any autobiography 
 which more entirely reflects the thoughts, feelings, and 
 foibles of the writer, so that one seems to follow him 
 about, with a thoroughly familiar companionship, 
 owing to the rare fidelity and candour with which he 
 records both his proceedings and reflections. 
 
 What, indeed, can be more life-like than the details 
 of the few days he spent at Venice, comprehending 
 
lOG MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 many hours passed in the company of Lord Byron? 
 We here see these two creative geniuses en deshabille^ 
 and are enabled to add one more to the evidences we 
 already possess, how completely the imaginative faculty 
 can be cast aside, and the gross reality of human 
 nature suffered to predominate, in the persons of great 
 poets; as, indeed, with great orators, painters, great 
 musical composers, and the like. It would seem that 
 splendid gifts are frequently associated with a lively 
 appetite and capacity for enjoyment, and that the 
 whole Being, ardently constituted in every respect, 
 must expend its various forces in turn, in order to 
 maintain its balance of powers.* 
 
 The noble Bard at least was aroused from all Ms 
 sentimental musings by the arrival of " Anacreon " ; 
 and this to so great a degree as to destroy all the 
 pleasure of the latter in approaching Venice: Lord 
 Byron's rattling ludicrous talk utterly putting to 
 flight the whole illusion and poetic charm of Moore's 
 first gondola voyage. (Vol. iii. p. 24.) 
 
 Five days of delightful racketing ensued: Lord 
 Byron, although he could not quit the young " con- 
 tessa" with whom he had but just set up house at La 
 Mira, insisted on Moore's taking up his quarters at 
 his palazzo in Venice, coming in occasionally himself 
 to enjoy his friend's company. They dine together 
 at the "Pellegrino" more than once, go to the theatre, 
 and afterwards adjourn to a sort of public-house, " to 
 drink hot punch; forming a strange contrast to a 
 dirty cobbler, whom we saw in a nice room delicately 
 
 * The names of Eaphael, Michael Angelo, Benvenuto Cellini, Alfieri, 
 Sheridan, Mozart, Charles James Fox, Eossini, Mirabeau, Person, 
 Bums, &c., may in some sort serve to sustain this hypothesis.^ 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 107 
 
 eating ice. Lord B. took me home in his gondola at 
 two o'clock : a beautiful moonlight, and the stillness 
 and grandeur of the whole scene, gave a nobler idea 
 of Venice than I had yet had." (Vol. iii. p. 28.) 
 
 The two poets were not alone on these occasions, 
 for another Englishman, named Scott, whom Lord 
 Byron had requested to accompany Moore about 
 Yenice, usually formed one of their party. By a 
 whimsical caprice of fate, this fortunate mdividual 
 afterwards became transformed into a Northumbrian 
 parson, and, to the best of our belief, still lives on 
 his hill top; talking ever and anon of these Vene- 
 tian orgies as of passages in a former state of exist- 
 ence. 
 
 On leaving Venice, Moore travelled, via Bologna, to 
 Florence, where he worked hard at sight-seeing; but, 
 as everywhere else, diversifying those duties by 
 theatres and society. Lady Morgan at this period 
 was in the ascendant ; and through her and Lady Burg- 
 hersh, Moore met all who were worth seeing in 
 Florence. His susceptibility to sublime emotions is 
 thus unaffectedly manifested after a visit to the 
 church of the Annunziata : — " Whether it be my 
 Popish blood or my poetical feelings, nothing gives me 
 more delight than the ' pomp and circumstance ' of a 
 mass in so grand a church; accompanied by fine 
 music, and surrounded by such statuary and such 
 paintings, it is a most elevating spectacle." 
 
 And now the traveller reaches Rome, the ever- 
 longed-for goal of all sentimental pilgrims. Here 
 Lady Davy, who, 's\dth the Duchess of Devonshire, 
 appears to have shared the privilege of " lionizing " 
 distinguished English visitors about the Eternal City, 
 
108 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 " undertakes" Moore, whilst Mr. Canning falls to the 
 care of her Grace. 
 
 Nothing can be more fresh and entertaining than 
 the record of his stay in Rome. The mingled naivete 
 and instinctive good taste with which he notes his 
 impressions, coupled with his frank disavowal of all 
 pretensions to knowledge in the domain of high art, 
 remind us of the journal of John Bell, the dis- 
 tinguished anatomist of Edinburgh, who brought to 
 the subject something of the same healthy, masculine 
 judgment, unassisted by much previous study. But 
 we must deny ourselves the pleasure of giving 
 extracts from these lively entries, and hasten to get 
 the poet out of Italy again, or we shall have to omit 
 subsequent matters essential to our sketch. 
 
 He makes a brief halt at Florence, where he is 
 forced to consent to sit to Bartolini for his bust, partly 
 at the instance of Chantrey, who wants to make one 
 also, and to " let Moore see the difference." Whilst 
 here. Lady Burghersh communicated to him some 
 particulars respecting the Empress Maria Louisa, 
 with whom she had frequent opportunities of inter- 
 course, passing some time with her at her Principality. 
 Maria Louisa, it seems, " loved Napoleon at first ; but 
 his rehutant manner to her diso^usted her at last. 
 Treated her like a mere child; her regency a mere 
 sham; did not know what the j)apers were she had to 
 sign ; never had either message or line from Napoleon 
 after his first abdication, nor until his return from 
 Elba; never hears from him at St. Helena," &c. (Vol. 
 iii. p. 79.) 
 
 Moore arrives once more in Paris about the close of 
 the year (1820); and, after a month or two, spent en 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 109 
 
 garcon^ is there joined by his wife and familj^, occupy- 
 ing a kind of "rus in urbe" in a suburb of Paris, 
 called then 'TAllee des Veuves." During the period 
 which elapsed between their establishing themselves 
 here and the autumn of the following year (rather 
 more than eighteen months), Moore divided his life 
 between Paris delights and literary composition ; but 
 candour compels us to own that the portion devoted 
 to dissipation and amusement formed by far the laro-er 
 one. Nothing, to be sure, was ever like it ! No 
 wonder he originated his Epicurean in 1820, for 
 he now exhibited a thorough example, in his own 
 person, of one who makes self-indulgence his main 
 pursuit. 
 
 With every disposition to extenuate Moore's incre- 
 dible craving for excitement and company, we find it 
 difficult to excuse this incessant gratification of it, 
 otherwise than by the stale and well-worn plea of 
 " great temptations." Most of us have heard of those 
 to which St. Anthony was exposed, and which we are 
 bound to believe were overpowering in their nature, 
 though we never could for the life of us ascertain in 
 what they consisted. But the Saint could hardly 
 have known what it was to have Vilamils, Storys, 
 Cannings, Fieldings, and Washington Irvings, with 
 Duchesses de Broglie, Lucy Drews, and the like sirens, 
 all turned loose upon him, with their various seduc- 
 tions, offering the cup of flattery and convivial allure- 
 ments (to each of which Moore was so susceptible) to 
 his acceptance. One cannot answer for what the 
 result of such trials might have been to a Saint, but 
 with most men of lively temperament, in the j^rime of 
 life and health, dwelling under a delicious sky, re- 
 
liO MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 sistance would probably have been but ineffectually 
 attempted. 
 
 The Paris episode, however, after all that can be 
 urged, leaves a grave feeling of regret that Moore was 
 ever drawn into so mischievous a vortex; though 
 there were occasions when his time was more worthily 
 and profitably invested. His acquaintance with 
 Denon led to some not infructuous studies ; whilst the 
 arrival in Paris of his friends Lord and Lady Holland, 
 around whom a certain intellectual atmosphere always 
 gathered, seems to have strung up the Poet's mind to 
 a healthier tone for a season, as the altered character 
 of the " entries " in the Diary amply attests. 
 
 It is refreshing, too, amidst the whirl of daily dissi- 
 pation, to find how tenderly he and Mrs. Moore 
 continue attached to each other: — "25th March, 182L 
 This day ten years we were married, and though Time 
 has made his usual changes in us both, we are still 
 more like lovers than any married couples of the same 
 standing I am acquainted with. Asked to dine at 
 Rancliffe's, but dined at home alone with Bessy," &c. 
 
 Still, if justice were duly done upon mortal sinners, 
 (which it rarely is, except by Baron P. . . ,), Moore 
 ought to have been sentenced, on his return to 
 England, to a six months' sojourn in Baker-street or 
 Torrington-square, without ever going to the j)lay, 
 and being only allowed to dine abroad once a month. 
 At the end of such a probation (supposing him to 
 have survived its rigours), the offender might have 
 come out of it, if somewhat less fascinating and 
 agreeable than before, more nearly resembling what, 
 under the meridian of Greenwich at least, it is con- 
 ceived a man blessed with a wife and children ought 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. Ill 
 
 to be. But it is far from certain that he would have 
 been permitted to preserve this reformed character by 
 his numerous soliciting friends. 
 
 The Bermuda defalcation having been made up, as 
 has been already said, partly through the friendly aid of 
 Lord John Russell (Messrs. Longman advancing the 
 larger portion by way of loan), the poet and his little 
 family leave Paris, and once more " set up their rest" 
 (if this phrase may be employed in connexion with so 
 unquiet a spirit as his) at Sloperton Cottage. Shortly 
 afterwards the Loves of the Angels came forth, for 
 which we find the author receiving 700/. ; and next 
 the Fables of the Holy Alliance^ so that we can scarcely 
 accuse him of not working diligently at this time. 
 Two visits to London, of a month each, succeed; 
 during which his life was one incessant course of 
 dining out, going to operas and plays, parties, balls, 
 breakfasts, and so forth. His social reputation was 
 now at its zenith, and the fashionable world opened 
 its doors to him as to a privileged being. A delight- 
 ful tour to Killarney, Cork, and other places in 
 Ireland, in company with his noble friends of Bowood, 
 enlivened the summer, and by the help of a subsequent 
 visit to Mr. Benett, at Pyt-house, and the amusing 
 sale of Mr. Beckford's effects at Fonthill, he managed 
 to get through what remained of the year 1823, in 
 his cottage home, contentedly enough. 
 
 Sheridan's Life was the task on which, as we have 
 stated above, Moore habitually and earnestly occupied 
 himself; that is to say, when " Phipps" did not happen 
 to " call in his gig ;" a form of seduction which, 
 coupled with a vision of a dinner at the inn at Devizes 
 in the background, rarely failed of its effect. It is 
 
112 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 beside tlic purpose of this article to enter upon a 
 critical notice of Moore's writings ; yet it is impossible 
 to allude to this particular work without observing 
 that in it he is justly chargeable with misstatement on 
 more than one point. A desire to drape the memory 
 of his subject (we must not term him his " hero") 
 with a plausible interest, had led him to cast un- 
 merited censure upon many who had once stood in 
 friendly relationship to Sheridan. It is now pretty 
 generally understood that the estrangement which 
 latterly subsisted between the Whig party and 
 Sheridan was altogether his own work. After the 
 crowning disgrace of his always discreditable career 
 — the getting by adroit management a sum of 
 4000/. out of the hands of the party in whose keep- 
 ing it was deposited by the Prince Regent, pending 
 its application to the procuring a seat in Parliament 
 for Sheridan — he appears to have felt it impossible to 
 face his old associates; at least he ever after avoided 
 the society of the eminent men of the Liberal party. 
 It never could be said that they neglected him ; they 
 knew nothing, except that he kept aloof from them ; 
 but they were far from deaf to the cry of perishing 
 decay when at length Sheridan permitted it to reach 
 their ear.* The misplaced sarcasms, again, with 
 which Moore seasons his dramatic detail of Sheridan's 
 closing days — sarcasms levelled at certain noble 
 persons who did violence to their feelings in attend- 
 ing his funeral rather than give pain to his widow — 
 though partially retracted in his preface to the fifth 
 
 * Both tlie Duke of Bedford and Mr. Canning, Moore afterwards 
 affirms (in his Diary), scut to Sheridan considerable sums witliin a 
 year of his death. 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 113 
 
 edition, must be regarded as a poor device, resorted 
 to by way of turning the reader's attention from the 
 character of the man, and fastening it upon the con- 
 dition to which he was reduced by the imputed incon- 
 stancy of his " great" friends. 
 
 There have been, perhaps, few examples of so pro- 
 digious an abuse of the disposition in human nature 
 to tolerate vices and defective moral feeling, in behalf 
 of brilliant talents, as Sheridan's character and con- 
 duct furnished. That there should be a limit, beyond 
 which an admiring sympathy could not secure even 
 him against disapprobation and contempt, ought to be 
 subject for gratulation, not for querulous complaint. 
 But a biographer, like a barrister, feels bound, we 
 presume, to present the best case he can for his client ; 
 and this must be Moore's apology.* The statement 
 concerning the Prince's indifference was not less un- 
 founded; for it has been satisfactorily shown that 
 George IV. entertained, for this pitiable wreck of a 
 once cherished associate, sentiments more kindly than 
 his conduct deserved; and further, that he would 
 gladly have mitigated by his bounty the sufferings he 
 compassionated. 
 
 The book we are speaking of, with all its faults, had 
 also great merits, and was (like everything Moore 
 wrote, indeed) eagerly welcomed on its appearance in 
 the autumn of 1825. 
 
 The first edition sold rapidly, and Moore felt him- 
 
 * In confirmation of this view of the matter, we may quote a passage 
 from a book recently published : — " On my complimenting Moore," 
 says Sir Eobert Heron, " on his impartiality in the Life of Sheridan, 
 he told me he regretted having suppressed many facts, and repre- 
 sented his character much too favourably." {Notes, 2nd ed. 1851, 
 p. 254.) 
 
 I 
 
114 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 self relieved of a load of obligation, for the publishers 
 were generous enough to superadd the sum of 300^. 
 to the original price of the copyright, in consequence 
 of the extensive sale which it met Avith at the very 
 outset. A tribute of admiration from Lord John 
 Russell, on reading it, is thus couched : — 
 
 "I am all astonisliment at the extent of your knowledge, tlie sound- 
 ness of your political views, and the skill with which you contrive to 
 keep clear of tiresomeness, when the subject seems to invite it 
 
 " I dined at Wimbledon yesterday, and all the Spencers sang chorus 
 in praise of your book." (Vol. iv. p. 323.) 
 
 When we run our eye over the entries in Moore's 
 Diary ^ we are apt to take comparatively little heed of 
 those which relate purely to work. Yet they really 
 are numerous, though a fortnight is commonly in- 
 cluded in a line; such as " 3rd to 17th. At work;" 
 " Rest of this month hard at work." Hence we are 
 unconsciously led to regard the labour as nothing in 
 the scale, when weighed against the indulgence of 
 the gregarious propensity. The Diary^ in fact, taken 
 in its general character, might bear to be prefaced by 
 an inscription which we remember to have read upon 
 a sun-dial near Padua, " Horas non numero nisi 
 Serenas." 
 
 As a hohday, after being so hard at work, was indis- 
 pensable, Moore rushes off to Scotland, and pays a visit 
 to Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, a brief account of 
 which is among the pleasantest passages in the book. 
 Scott's conversation about his own productions is 
 curious, showing that he rather stumbled upon his 
 talent than cultivated it originally. " Had begun 
 Waverley long before, and then thrown it by, until 
 having occasion for some money (to help liis brother, 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 115 
 
 I think), he bethought hhnself of it, but could not 
 find the MS." (Vol. iv. p. 333.) When he did, 
 "made 3000/. by Waverley." 
 
 Moore goes to the theatre (need we say?) at 
 Edinburgh, of which his brother-in-law, Murray, was 
 manager. Jeffrey, Sir Walter, and Mr. Thomson are 
 there with him. The enthusiasm displayed by the 
 audience is quite extravagant (for us Scotchmen), 
 and delights Sir "Walter, who exclaims, " This is quite 
 right. I am glad my countrymen have returned the 
 compliment for me." 
 
 Moore also visits Mr. Jeffrey at Craigcrook. On 
 the morrow of his arrival, he writes : — 
 
 " After breakfast, sitting with Jeflfrey in his beautiful Httle Gothic 
 study, he told me at much length his opinion of my Life of Sheridan. 
 
 Thinks it a work of great importance to my fame ' Here,' 
 
 (said Jeffrey) ' is a convincing proof that you can think and reason 
 solidly and manfully, and treat the gravest and most important sub- 
 jects in a manner worthy of them I am of opinion that 
 
 you have given us the only clear, fair, and manly account of the 
 public transactions of the last fifty years that we possess.' " (Vol, v. 
 p. 7.) 
 
 On his return from Scotland, Moore is called to 
 Dublin by the illness of his father, who expires shortly 
 subsequent to his son's arrival. Through the kind- 
 ness of Messrs. Longman, who, although Moore is so 
 heavily in debt towards the firm, permit him to draw 
 upon them, he discharges all outstanding obligations, 
 defrays expenses of his father's funeral, and supports 
 his mother with all the comforts and attentions the 
 occasion calls for. The Lord-Lieutenant proposes to 
 arrange that the half-pay enjoyed by the late Mr. 
 Moore should be continued, under the form of pension, 
 to his daughter. ]\Ioore peremptorily declines the 
 offer. 
 
 I 2 
 
116 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 "All this is very kind and liberal of Lord "Wellesley; and God 
 knows how useful such an aid would be, as God alone knows how I am 
 to support all the burthens now heaped upon me ; but I could not accept 
 such a favour." (Yol. v. p. 25.) 
 
 It would seem that during the year 1826, Moore's 
 talent for facetious and satirical verse-making was 
 placed at the service of the Times newspaper, and, as 
 has ever been the practice witTi that Journal, was 
 amply remunerated. In fact, looking on the one hand 
 at the large sums realized by everything he produced, 
 and on the other at the very modest scale on which 
 his menage was conducted, together with the well- 
 attested frugality and self-denial of his excellent 
 partner, we have found it difficult to explain the state 
 of chronic insolvency in which Moore obviously lived. 
 His children were, it is true, always ailing, his wife 
 never well. But then their medical attendant. Dr. 
 Bi'abant of Devizes, having a cordial^ sympathy for 
 genius and virtue in difficulties, would accept no fees. 
 Moore himself seemed to have had no expensive habits, 
 except that he never refused himself a hack post- 
 chaise; that luxury which Dr. Johnson so feelingly 
 prized! His "junketings" in London were usually 
 enjoyed at the cost of others, and^jhis garret to sleep 
 in seems to have constituted almost his only expense. 
 The solution must lie in the fact of his having twice 
 had to overtake a considerable sum by his unassisted 
 exertions; his own maintenance and that of his 
 parents needing to be provided at the same time. 
 
 The history of the gift, sale, and ultimate destruc- 
 tion of Lord Byron's Memoirs has^.jbeen so much 
 canvassed, and versions so various have circulated 
 concerning Moore's conduct on the occasion, that we 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 117 
 
 are thankful to find much circumstantial information 
 to guide us to a safe conclusion, though the Diary 
 contains only a part of what Moore left in elucidation 
 of this complex affair. The rest has been \Yithheld 
 by the noble editor, and we are bound to say without, 
 as far as we can discover, satisfactory reasons for its 
 suppression. Enough nevertheless remains where- 
 with to frame an accurate summary of this case — an 
 indispensable item in a retrospective sketch of the 
 Poet's life. 
 
 The Memoirs were given to him, without reserve, 
 as without directions, by Lord Byron; but were un- 
 questionably intended partly as a justification of him- 
 self, and partly as a means of enriching his friend. 
 Moore, pressed for money (as usual), made over the 
 MSS. to Mr. Murray for the sum of 2000 guineas. 
 He subsequently modified the transaction by ordering 
 a clause to be inserted in the deed, by which he, 
 Moore, should have the option of redeeming the 
 Memoirs within three months of Lord Byron's 
 death. 
 
 When that unlooked-for event occurred, in 1824, 
 the family and personal friends of the deceased noble- 
 man urgently sought to possess themselves of the 
 manuscript, with a view to its destruction. Moore, 
 conceiving that in yielding it up for that purpose he 
 should be defeating the intentions and wishes of his 
 friend, demurs to the request. He pleads earnestly 
 for its publication, proposing to suppress all matter 
 calculated either to wound the feelino;s of livins^ 
 persons, or to shock public taste. But the Byron 
 family, Mrs. Leigh, Sir John Hobhouse, and Mr. 
 Wilmot Horton, are inexorable; and so much im- 
 
118 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 portunity is addressed both to Moore and Mr. 
 Murray, by various distinguished parties, that they 
 at length consent to place the Memoirs in the 
 hands of Mr. Horton and Colonel Doyle, as the 
 representatives of Mrs. Leigh; who forthwith 
 commit the same to the flames at Mr. Murray's 
 house. 
 
 Mr. Murray, of course, stipulates to be repaid his 
 money with lawful interest, which is accordingly done, 
 by a draft drawn by Moore on Mr. Rogers.* (Vol. v. 
 p. 224.) Much persuasion is used to induce Moore 
 to accept of compensation at the hands of the Byron 
 family — even his most valued friends, such as Lord 
 and Lady Lansdowne, Mr. Luttrell, Lord John 
 Russell, with Mr. Rogers and his sister, concur in 
 the opinion that he ought to do so. Moore's high 
 sense of self-respect is, however, a match for all, and 
 he steadily refuses. Indeed, for some time after the 
 destruction of the Memoirs^ his mind is uneasy, lest 
 he should have committed an act of constructive dis- 
 loyalty towards his departed friend and benefactor. 
 Ultimately he learns from Sir John Hobhouse that 
 Lord Byron, when remonstrated with by himself as 
 to the indiscretion of placing such a MS. out of his 
 own control, had replied, " that he regretted having 
 done so, and that delicacy towards Moore alone 
 deterred him from reclaiming it;" on this Moore is 
 reassured, and whilst regretting the loss to the world, 
 rests satisfied Avith the course which he had himself 
 
 * This loan, or accommodation, on the part of Mr. Eogers, was 
 subsequently repaid out of tlie profits of The Loves of the Angels 
 and Fables of the Holy Alliance, (See Preface to vol. viii. of 
 Worhs.) 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 119 
 
 pursued. It lias been objected, that at the time 
 Moore made this reluctant cession, the Memoirs were, 
 strictly speaking, the property of Mr. Murray, and 
 that Moore had consequently no claim to merit in 
 making the sacrifice ; the rather, as he foresaw that a 
 round sum might hereafter be gained by his becom- 
 ing Lord Byron's biographer, on a new footing. 
 The truth is that, by the negligence of the draughts- 
 man or the attorney, the clause providing for the 
 redemption of the MSS. by Moore was not inserted 
 in the body of the deed, and thus the property 
 formally remained with the bookseller. But nobody 
 was cognisant of this fact till after the deed was 
 virtually cancelled by the destruction of the Memoirs; 
 so that Moore's proceeding is entitled to whatever 
 credit may be thought to attach to his resigning his 
 share in them. At the same time, Mr. Murray must 
 be held to have acted with perfect good faith, and 
 strictly business-like correctness, throughout the 
 affair.* 
 
 A contemporary remarks on Moore's cupidity in 
 his dealings, and on this feature of his character a 
 brief commentary seems called for. " The warmest 
 admirer of Moore's talents, we apprehend, cannot 
 dissemble from himself that the main business of his 
 life was to ' keep the wolf from the door.' The 
 
 * There occurs at page 345 of vol. iii. the following passage, which 
 is worth quoting in reference to the foregoing transaction : — 
 
 " April, 1822. Ought to have mentioned that soon after my arrival 
 I spoke to Murray upon the subject of Lord B.'s 3Iemoirs ; of my wish 
 to redeem them, and cancel the deed of sale, which Murray acceded to 
 with the best grace imaginable. Accordingly there is an agreement 
 making out, by which I become his debtor for 2000 guineas, leaving the 
 
 MSS. in his hands as a security, till I am able to pay it I 
 
 know I shall feel the happier when rid of the bargain." 
 
120 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 Steady eye which he kept upon every transaction 
 connected with literary profit, it would be distasteful 
 to observe, unless we bore in mind the anxieties 
 which he habitually endured respecting his daily 
 subsistence. One cannot deny that he read but to 
 reproduce — that he listened but to borrow — that he 
 caught at ' tunes' to work up into ' melodies' — that 
 he sang in drawing-rooms to give circulation to his 
 wares. Nay, he even ransacks his Bible, in church, 
 for dramatic subjects, to weave into musical expres- 
 sion; (finding one too, in Jeremiah, of all authors!) 
 in short, the fact is clear that Moore's thoughts 
 mainly alternated between his amusements and the 
 shop." 
 
 But the public ought by this time to have learnt 
 (if it ever cared to learn anything except what suited 
 its convenience), that the greater portion of the labours 
 of literary men, even some of the highest productions 
 of Genius, have been extorted from their authors by 
 the pressure of necessity. 
 
 It would appear invidious to run over the long 
 catalogue of gifted writers from whose pen and brain 
 little would ever have descended to us but for the 
 temptation offered by money gains; large or small as 
 the case might be. The class of men who are 
 mentally qualified to produce, are commonly more 
 disposed to enjoy than to work, and hence it is that, 
 Avith a few remarkable exceptions, we owe the great 
 mass of our literature to the necessitous student. 
 Even our greatest poet of the century. Lord Byron, 
 confessed that but for the sake of gaining money he 
 should be too lazy to write poetry requiring eftbrt. 
 No, the rare endowments which are fitted to contribute 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 121 
 
 to the delight of our fellow men are seldom brought 
 forward by any inducements except those of profit; 
 nor, in fact, will their possessors be persuaded to go 
 through the severe probation needed in order to shine 
 in any sphere of art, if blessed with fortune and the 
 means of living at ease. 
 
 The following extracts will afford a sample of the 
 familiar conversation of Bowood, where Moore was now 
 continually a guest : — 
 
 " 1824. Oct. 23rd. Dined at Bowood : company, Grosetts and 
 Clutterbucks, Mrs. Clutterbuck looking very pretty. Clutterbuck's 
 story of the old lady (his aunt) excellent. Being very nervous, she 
 told Sir W. Farquhar she thought Bath would do her good. ' It's very 
 odd,' says Sir W., ' but that's the very thing I was going to recom- 
 mend to you. I will write the particulars of your case to a very 
 clever man there, in whose hands you will be well taken care of.' The 
 lady, furnished with the letter, sets oflf, and on arriving at Newbury, 
 feeling, as usual, very nervous, she said to her confidant, ' Long as Sir 
 Walter has attended me, he has never explained to me what ails me. 
 I have a great mind to open his letter and see what he has stated of 
 my case to the Bath physician.' In vain her friend represented to her 
 the breach of confidence this would be. She opened the letter, and read, 
 * Dear Davis, keep the old lady three weeks, and send her back again.'" 
 
 "1825. Jan. 3rd. Walked over to Bowood : company. Mackintosh 
 and his daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Yernon Smith and Lewson Smith. 
 
 A good deal of conversation about Burke in the evening. 
 
 Mentioned his address to the British colonists in North America. 
 ' Armed as you are, we embrace you as our friends and as our brothers, 
 by the best and dearest ties of relation.' The tone of the other parts, 
 however, is, I find, moderate enough. Burke was of opinion that 
 Hume, if he had been alive, would have taken the side of the French 
 Eevolution. Dugald Stewart thinks the same. The grand part of 
 Burke's life was between 1772 and the end of the American war; 
 afterwards presumed upon his fame and let his imagination run away 
 with him. Lord Charlemont said that Burke was a Whig upon Tory 
 principles. Fox said it was lucky that Burke and Windham took the 
 side against the French Eevolution, as they would have got hanged on 
 the other. Windham's speech on Curwen's motion for Eeform — an 
 ingenious defence of parliamentary corruption — like the pleading of a 
 sophist. Burke gave the substance of the India Bill, and Pigot drew 
 it up." 
 
122 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 " 1833. Feb. 6tli. An excellent mot of somebody to Fontenelle, on 
 the latter saying that he flattered himself he had a good heart, — ' Yes, 
 my dear Fontenelle, you have as good a heart as can be made out of 
 brains.' 
 
 " In talking with Hallam afterwards, I put it to him why it was that 
 this short way of expressing truths did not do with the world, often 
 as it had been tried, even Eochefoucauld being kept alive chiefly by his 
 ill-nature P There was in this one saying to Fontenelle all that I my- 
 self had expended many pages on in my Life of Byron, endeavouring 
 to bring it out clearly ; namely, the great difference there is between 
 that sort of sensibility which is lighted up in the heads and imagina- 
 tion of men of genius, and the genuine natural sensibility whose seat 
 is in the heart. Even now in thus explaining my meaning, how many 
 superfluous words have I made use of? Talking of the Brahmins 
 being such good chess-players (nobody, it seems, can stand before 
 them at the game), Mrs. Hastings' naivete was mentioned, in saying, 
 ' Well, people talk a good deal about the Brahmins playing well, but 
 I assure you Mr. Hastings, who is very fond of chess, constantly 
 plays those who come to the Government House, and always beats 
 them.' " 
 
 For three editions of the Epicurean (which first 
 came out in 1827), Messrs. Longman, we find, credited 
 the author 700^. In 1828 Mr. Murray finally con- 
 cludes a bargain with him to write a Life of Lord 
 Byron^ for which he is to receive 4000 guineas. 
 Moore begins this in February, after having paid a 
 visit to Newstead Abbey, and to Colwich, the residence 
 of Mrs. Musters (formerly Miss Chaworth), with whom 
 he conversed respecting Byron, as he has related in 
 the Life. The usual gaddings, excursions, and 
 pleasure-hunting characterise these years, the record 
 of which is, however, interspersed with amusing notes 
 of conversations, held chiefly at Holland House and 
 Bowood ; often valuable, though brief, from the light 
 they shed upon transactions regarding which public 
 channels of information have been of necessity im- 
 perfect ones. Many little touches reveal the state of 
 political parties, too, in a way no out-of-doors organ 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 123 
 
 could possibly do. The ill-assorted combinations of 
 1826-27-28, which succeeded on the break-up of Tory 
 ascendancy, are curiously commented upon ; and some 
 good stories also find a place in the Diary. 
 
 The sixth volume opens with 1829, and the death 
 of his amiable daughter Anastasia, which plunged 
 both her fond parents into deep affliction. The 
 notices of the Life of Byron came out in the follomng 
 year, after which Moore set to work to collect 
 materials for that of Lord Edward Fitzgerald; in 
 fact, he seems to have been more than commonly in- 
 dustrious about this time. He and his wife made a 
 journey to Ireland in August, mainly on this errand, 
 but also to visit Moore's mother once more. At a 
 great meeting of from two to three thousand people, 
 Moore being induced to make a speech on the subject 
 of the late French Revolution of "the three days" 
 (Bessy present among the auditors), it proved one of 
 the happiest efforts in oratory that he ever essayed. 
 
 " From this on to tlie end my display was most successful, and the 
 consciousness that every word told on my auditory, reacted upon me 
 with a degree of excitement which made me feel capable of anything. 
 The shouts, the applause, the waving of hats, &c., after I had 
 finished, lasted for some minutes. I heard Shell, too, as I concluded, 
 say, with much warmth, 'he is a most beautiful speaker!' " (Vol. vi. 
 p. 140.) 
 
 The enthusiasm felt for Moore by his countrymen 
 is, indeed, universal, and proclaimed ; and many of his 
 admirers endeavoured to persuade him to try for a 
 seat in Parliament for some Irish constituency. This 
 temptation, which is renewed after his return to 
 Sloperton, he steadily resists (although his inclination 
 would have strongly urged him to accept the offer), 
 on the ground of his utter want of fortune. 
 
124 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 Of " adventures" there are, properly speaking, none 
 in the whole six volumes; Moore's movements being 
 chiefly from Devizes to Bath, from Bath to Farley, 
 from Farley to Lay cock, from Laycock to Bo wood, and 
 so on, — much after the style of Major Sturgeon's 
 campaigns. But although his person revolved in a 
 limited orbit, his mental activity, and frequent unre- 
 served commerce with the class in whose hands the 
 government of the nation was now vested, caused him 
 to feel no want of more enlarged experience of the 
 world. Indeed the privilege which he enjoyed, of 
 intimate and habitual intercourse with the Marquis of 
 Lansdowne, was of itself an equivalent, or more than 
 an equivalent, for a wide range of ordinary social 
 advantages. 
 
 Moore's political feelings partook all through life of 
 the early impressions derived from his boyish con- 
 nexion with certain friends Avho were forward in the 
 organization of Irish resistance to the Government in 
 1795-96. Though a mere youth, his ardent attach- 
 ment to Ireland led hira to yield the fullest sympathy 
 to those efforts, and from that period downwards he 
 never spoke or wrote about his native country save in 
 a strain of mournful resentment. He was himself, 
 whilst a college student, subjected to an examination 
 before the formidable Chancellor Fitzgibbon, and dis- 
 played a self-]30ssession, we might even say an heroic 
 fidelity to his associates, highly praiseworthy in one 
 so young. The scene is related in the first vol. of 
 the present publication, and repeated by Moore in 
 the preface to his Works in ten vols. 1840. His 
 Letters of Captain Hock likewise displayed his 
 views and feelings on Irish politics. But although he 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 125 
 
 held opinions of a strongly democratic cast, lie seems 
 to have been less cordial in his wishes for reform in 
 Parliament in 1831-32 than might have been ex- 
 pected. This is to be ascribed partly, as he confesses, 
 to his having reached the age of fifty before the 
 Reform movement became effectual, and partly to 
 his comparatively slender interest in English politics, 
 with which he rarely meddled, whilst with Irish 
 affairs he maintained a constant sympathy. (See his 
 Letter to Electors of Limerick, vol. iv. p. 305.) The 
 "wrongs of Ireland" lay at the bottom of his heart, 
 and tinged his views on most public questions. It is 
 honourable both to himself and to his noble associates, 
 that Moore's extreme opinions, though openly main- 
 tained and ably defended, never interrupted the 
 friendly relations in which he lived with the leading 
 statesmen of the Liberal party. His out-spoken 
 objections to the course pursued by the Whig Govern- 
 ment, after 1831, towards Ireland, would infallibly 
 have offended any minister but the nobleman who 
 bore him a friendship so warm as to be proof against 
 the shocks of dissent when coming from his privileged 
 neighbour. 
 
 A recent newspaper criticism has laboured to fasten 
 upon Moore the imputation of having " dangled upon 
 the great;" — one more groundless could scarcely be 
 adduced. " The great" ran after Moore, not he after 
 the great. If there be one fact more abundantly 
 attested than another by the Diary it is this. And 
 among the rare instincts which his nature revealed 
 was the perception of that nice medium between 
 familiarity and humility of demeanour, which he so 
 admirably hit in his intercourse with the nobility of 
 
126 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 both sexes. He was treated like a spoiled child; yet 
 he conducted himself like a well-bred man. He might 
 assuredly feel a pride in reflectino; that he could reckon 
 among his intimate friends the names of Walter Scott, 
 Samuel Rogers, Crabbe, Bowles, Sydney Smith, Lord 
 Byron, Fmncis Jeffrey, Lord Holland, Luttrell, Lord 
 John Russell, Lord and Lady Lansdowne, with those 
 of other eminent and estimable persons of both sexes ; 
 and he did feel it. But no one, we venture to affirm, 
 could charge Moore with presuming upon the favour 
 with which they regarded him. What he seems to be 
 most severely reproached with is, having been in- 
 wardly elated, flattered, — made happy, in short, by it. 
 On this manner of construing the revelations com- 
 prised in these volumes, we will, even at the risk of 
 appearing sermonic and tedious, venture to offer some 
 remarks. 
 
 The general reader of memoirs seems to require 
 before all things, the gratification of his curiosity. 
 But one would think that, this primary object being 
 attained, the next would be to acquire an accurate 
 knowledge of the inward mind and thoughts of the 
 author, particularly if he be a person of eminent and 
 renowned character; and so it is in a measure, for 
 everybody takes pleasure in diving into the soul of 
 genius, and prying into the laboratory of a poet's 
 fancy. If, however, the writer record for posthumous 
 publication feelings which he would or ought to have 
 dissembled during life, such is the inveterate, the all- 
 puissant influence of conventional habits, that, instead 
 of thanking him for his candour and veracity, 
 the public positively blame him for not disguising 
 his genuine emotions, for not counterfeiting to pos- 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 127 
 
 terity indiiference both to high reputation and to 
 homage from his fellow-creatures. The very quality 
 which is understood to bestow a value on autobiography 
 — viz., the presenting the writer's real mind and 
 thoughts to the reader, — is lost sight of in the abhor- 
 rence which the public entertain for what they term 
 "ridiculous personal vanity!" They shrink from 
 everything which is not disguised and " dressed up," 
 — from the real mind, as from the naked body. The 
 public have, indeed, so long and peremptorily prohi- 
 bited all external signs of self-satisfaction, or self-love, 
 that at length they have come to believe in the Latin 
 apophthegm, that what does not appear^ does not 
 exist; and thus, when an idol is caught in the fact, 
 through his private closet avowals, they regard him 
 as a rare instance of depraved morals, and fall to 
 abusing him as such. For in our artificial society, 
 everything is made to give way to conventional forms 
 and usages, and neither mind nor matter dare wander 
 beyond the prescribed despotic circle. 
 
 To be sure, if a writer of autobiography has died in 
 want and misery, \ihis vanity have been never so mis- 
 placed, offensive, or egregious, we can afford to be 
 more indulgent ; the mortification and humiliation he 
 has endured have the effect of neutralizing the ascetic 
 element within us, and we feel comforted, as it were, by 
 the spectacle of expiatory justice. But let not the suc- 
 cessful or happy man lift the veil, and reveal the 
 pleasure with which a life of labour and poverty was 
 sweetened when he was praised, flattered, and loved 
 by his contemporaries. In vain would his apologists 
 plead that vanity, under profuse homage, is at once 
 natural, just, and innocuous. Our excellent comma- 
 
128 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 nity seldom travel so far as the domain of ethics for 
 their standard of judgment. They take a shorter cut ; 
 what they dislihe is odious and reprehensible, and the 
 converse, — and from this there is no appeal. 
 
 A great deal has been said, also, respecting Moore's 
 neglect of his domestic hearth; so much, indeed, that 
 it would be unbecoming, in presenting even this 
 slender portraiture of the man, to pass over such a 
 feature in silence. He certainly enjoyed mingling 
 with his friends and acquaintance when his work was 
 done — sometimes, indeed, when it was not done — and 
 it is not disguised in the pages before us that Mrs. 
 Moore felt his frequent absences from home. On the 
 other hand, it should be borne in mind that, whereas 
 cerebral labour, especially that of the inventive 
 faculty, exhausts the individual more than any other 
 occupation, so it is of the last importance to him to 
 seek occasional, even frequent, renovation by some 
 external agency. The spirit-stirring action of 
 pleasant and distinguished society, the expansion of 
 his peculiarly happy talent for conversation, the ex- 
 ercise of his almost magical gift of touching the feel- 
 ings by musical expression* — all these recreated the 
 man, and replenished the springs of those powers by 
 means of which the poor ^:>6'6^ was expected to produce 
 his page of the morrow. The physician, the lawyer, 
 the minister, the sharebroker, the soldier, and others, 
 necessarily pass their lives from home, a return to 
 
 * No person was ever gifted with a more perfect organization for 
 music than the deceased Irish bard. Had he received a thoroughly- 
 sound musical education, it is diflicult to say whether he might not 
 have produced some great composition as gorgeous in melody and 
 harmony as the Eastern imagery of his Lalla Rookh. — Ella, Musical 
 Sketches, 1853. 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 129 
 
 which constitutes a welcome change and relief. But 
 the laborious man of letters spends his working hours 
 alone, in silence within his own four walls ; when the 
 sand of his intellectual hourglass has run out, he 
 needs variety, and the reviving influences afforded by 
 social and festive pleasures. If the Irish tempera- 
 Jiient happen to be superadded, the want is, by so 
 much, intensified. Again, the strongest endeavours 
 were used to prevail on Mrs. Moore to accompany her 
 husband into the world; to Bowood especially, the 
 house at which he was the most frequently himself a 
 guest, Moore often strove to persuade her to accept 
 Lord and Lady Lansdowne's many cordial invitations, 
 but to little purpose. We cannot wonder at this. 
 ]\Irs. Moore wanted the inclination to miji in the 
 society of persons with whom she had no familiar 
 acquaintance, and she was too proud (Moore says) to 
 be at her ease with such as she knew and felt to be 
 her superiors in birth and education, though not in 
 personal beauty or native talent. And farther, she 
 could afford neither fine clothes nor carriage; she 
 was the habitual nurse-mother to sickly children, 
 whilst her own health gave her but too frequent cause 
 for failino; her social eno-ao-ements. Thus Moore must 
 have gone into company without her or stayed by 
 her side; an alternative which, as a rule of conduct, 
 both he and Mrs. Moore knew and felt to be far from 
 advantageous to either, however glad he might feel 
 to fly back to it when the needful stimulus was over. 
 Moore might be said to belong to a numerous " pro- 
 prietar}'," among whom his wife unquestionably held 
 the greatest number of " shares." But Mrs. Moore 
 had far too much sense and feeling to wish or expect 
 
 K 
 
130 MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 
 
 to monopolise so gifted, so mercurial a being. She 
 was, nevertheless, throughout life, the chief object of 
 his tender, admiring affection, as Avell as of his grate- 
 ful esteem; and this must have consoled her (as it has 
 doubtless done other women, also united to men of 
 genius) for not being the whole and sole occupant of 
 a large, impressionable heart, and a restless imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 The duties of editorship of these volumes have been 
 apparently limited by Lord John Kussell to the hand- 
 ing over the manuscript to the printer (after making 
 a tolerably free, though insufficient use, we think, of 
 the scissors), and the composing a friendly introduc- 
 tion to the first and sixth volumes. What additional 
 value might have been imparted to the book by 
 judicious commentary and interpretation, we Avill not 
 inquire too curiously; since, if a man will have a 
 minister of the Crown, and nothing less, for his 
 executor, it is not to be expected that his " remains" 
 should be so expertly, or so carefully, prepared for 
 publication as by a practised literary hand. 
 
 But it has been remarked, and we think justly, 
 that some key ought to have been furnished to the 
 numerous acquaintances in whose society Moore 
 passed so much of his time in the country. It would 
 have been easy to append, in foot-notes or otherwise, 
 a slight indication of their personal history, and 
 their provincial standing and connexion, and thus 
 have enabled us to follow with greater interest the 
 records of many happy days spent among "Houltons," 
 "Fieldings," "Douglasses," "Smiths," " Phipps's," 
 " Storys," and others, whose names figure so promi- 
 nently in the Diary. Whilst neglecting to supply 
 
MEMOIRS OF MOORE. 131 
 
 useful information such as this, the noble editor 
 thought fit to insert a note which has had the effect 
 of involving him in an acrimonious correspondence 
 with an eminent literary character, wherein, we 
 regret to own, the latter seems to us to have the 
 advantage over his Lordship. 
 
 The " note" in question was, in truth, a gratuitous 
 personal sarcasm against Mr. Croker : and the manner 
 in which this has been repelled certainly leaves both 
 Lord John and his friend Thomas Moore on lower 
 ground than it is at all agreeable to us to see them 
 occupy. 
 
 It would also have been a useful exercise of edito- 
 rial industry, had Lord John afforded us some 
 explanation respecting Moore's sudden change of 
 tone towards the Eegent : passing from the relation 
 of almost familiar intimacy to an attitude of hostility. 
 Moore gives none himself, whilst his disappointment 
 in not going to India with Lord Moira occurred, not 
 before, but after, he had assailed the Regent with 
 such felicitous acerbity. 
 
 Still, notwithstanding these deficiencies, the book, 
 as it stands, will be gladly accepted as a microcosm 
 of a social world concerning which tradition is be- 
 coming daily less and less distinct, and whose parallel, 
 it is probable, will never be reproduced; whilst those 
 individuals who are yet living, and who took part in 
 it, will find many a delightful reminiscence of bygone 
 days preserved in the pages of one of their most 
 brilliant, as well as most popular, contemporaries. 
 Some excellently engraved "illustrations" confer a 
 welcome additional attraction on the work. 
 
 k2 
 
SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 OP 
 
 THE HA]\ILET 
 
 OF 
 
 EAST BURN HAM: 
 
 C0. §tttliS. 
 
 BY A LATE RESIDENT. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The following pages contain what to many readers 
 may appear prosaic and tedious details of a purely 
 local character. To some others they will offer an 
 interest, as affording a glance into the inner relations 
 which subsist between the humbler members of the 
 rural population, and the owners of the land which 
 they till. In the picture I have endeavoured to 
 present of the hamlet in question, a general sketch of 
 the past and present condition of the peasantry will 
 be found, together with a view of the general bearings 
 of the relation between rich and poor, and the effects 
 of one or other course of conduct on the part of the 
 former class; I trust with no invidious or prejudiced 
 statements, or partial colouring. Entertaining a 
 deep interest in the welfare of the Avorking people, I 
 have studied their modes of feeling with attention ; 
 and feel persuaded that the best forms of beneficence 
 consist in encouraging domestic virtues and whole- 
 some instincts among them, and in fortifying their 
 respect for those who of necessity control their collec- 
 
130 rnEFACE. 
 
 tive social destiny. In connexion with these views, 
 I have thought it not an idle employment to trace the 
 mutations of ownership, and the personal history of 
 the place, as well as to depict the moral and social 
 aspects of an obscure district of my county.* Let 
 me hope that some of those who may honour my 
 little work with a perusal, will learn from it to 
 appreciate the utility, if not the duty, of attending to 
 
 " The short and simple annals of the poor." 
 
 H. G. 
 
 Nov. 1858. 
 
 * I say advisedly " my county," for my ancestors belonged to it 
 two centuries since, residing at Middle Claydon and Steeple Claydon, 
 Bucks, up to the beginning of the present century. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM, 
 
 The Hamlet of East Burnham is situated about 
 half-way between Beaconsfield on the north and 
 Slough on the south. The land and houses — the 
 far larger portion, at least — were for centuries the 
 property of one family, the last male member of which 
 died at East Burnham as long ago as the year 1810. 
 Up to a recent period few visitors ever wandered into 
 this hamlet, unless it were now and then a sportsman. 
 The old forest, called " Burnham Beeches," composed 
 chiefly of aged and hollow-trunked trees, forms a 
 part of the Manor of " AUards" (otherwise East 
 Burnham), in which the scattered hamlet is situated, 
 and a wild open heath, called East Burnham Common, 
 adjoins the same. But a small number of persons 
 seem to have known anything of this picturesque 
 tract, although the poet Gray speaks of it in his 
 letters;* the road communicating between Windsor 
 and Beaconsfield — never much travelled — passing at 
 
 * Mr. Gray used often to ramble into this forest from Sloke 
 Poges, and compose poetry therein. Some of the lines in his 
 Elegy may fairly be taken as descriptive of the scenery of this 
 Bpot. 
 
138 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 some distance from it; but after the year 1840, when 
 the raih'oad came into use, the neighbourhood became 
 somewhat more resorted to, and the " Burnham 
 Beeches," hitherto almost a sylvan solitude, gradually 
 became the favourite resort of summer pleasure- 
 parties from the surrounding districts. Tourists and 
 book-makers likewise began to talk of this singular 
 and picturesque spot, so that now there probably are 
 few persons residing within twenty miles of the 
 " Burnham Beeches" who have not either visited or 
 heard of them. The ancient tradition of the locality 
 has it, that the Beeches were pollarded by the Par- 
 liament army, which encamped here during the civil 
 wars of Charles I. That they ever were pollarded 
 at all has, however, been doubted. Be this as it may, 
 the appearance of the trees is precisely such as would 
 be presented had they been subjected to that process 
 in the year 1645. A person who has resided at East 
 Burnham for the last twenty years, or thereabouts, 
 has taken the trouble to collect (from living testimony 
 chiefly) the following particulars relating to this 
 sequestered region. 
 
 Up to the middle of the last century, the possessors 
 of the estates of Huntercombe and East Burnham 
 habitually resided at the ancestral mansion known as 
 Huntercombe House, situate a short distance from 
 Burnham on the old London and Bath road; the last 
 male representative of the Eyre family who lived 
 there being Mr. Thomas Eyre, who was born, it would 
 appear, about the year 1661. This gentleman had 
 two sons, besides daughters. For his second son, 
 Charles, he obtained the place of secondary in his 
 Majesty's Exchequer, a lucrative post at that time. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 139 
 
 The eldest son lived with his father. Mr. Charles 
 E}Te, the secondary, bought a house at East Burn- 
 ham, with some land round it, situated in the centre 
 of his father's estate, which estate he was one day- 
 destined, though the younger son, to inherit. At 
 this house he established his menage^ which com- 
 prised within it a pretty housekeeper of the name of 
 Green (a native of Stoke, hard by), by whom he had 
 two children, both girls. He lived in good style, 
 received his male acquaintance there hospitably, 
 and was considered to be what was called a "man 
 of pleasure." It is related that the elder brother 
 of this Mr. Charles Eyre was, or pretended to be, 
 scandalized at his brother's free way of life, and was 
 wont to say " that he would take a wife himself, if 
 only to get an heir who should keep Charles out of 
 the estate." Nevertheless, he died a bachelor, and 
 Mr. Charles Eyre accordingly succeeded to these 
 ancient possessions, about the year 1745. But he 
 let the house at Huntercombe, and continued to live 
 at his own house at East Burnham, his eldest daughter, 
 Elizabeth, residing with him (bearing his name) 
 until his death, at the ripe age of eighty, in 1786. 
 She used to assist him in his business as " Secondary,'* 
 the greater part of which he transacted in the country ; 
 boxes of papers, coins, tallies, &c., being sent from 
 the Exchequer to East Burnham by official mes- 
 sengers for that purpose. His youngest daughter, 
 Arabella, was sought in marriage about the year 
 1770 by a Captain John Popple, a young gentleman 
 in the regular army, without any fortune : the captain 
 probably calculating on that deficiency being supplied 
 by his wife's expected inheritance. He continued 
 
140 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 in the army, living in quarters, accompanied by his 
 wife, on a very small income, up to the death of Mr. 
 Eyre, when that gentleman leaving his daughters 
 each a comfortable fortune. Captain Popple quitted 
 the service, and went to live at a place called Bury 
 Hill, in Hertfordshire. 
 
 Mr. Charles Eyre dying without legitimate issue, 
 the paternal estate, manors, &c., passed to his nephew, 
 a Captain Sayer, the son of one of his sisters, who had 
 married a Mr. Sayer, of London, drysalter. This 
 gentleman accordingly came to reside on his estate ; 
 but he could not well live where Mr. Eyre had done, 
 seeing that Mr. Eyre had bequeathed that house to 
 his eldest daughter as part of her inheritance : East 
 Burnham House, and about forty acres of land adja- 
 cent, not forming any portion of the Eyre estate. 
 Captain Sayer took up his abode in a small house (at 
 that time almost a cottage), pertaining to the Eyre 
 estate, adding a few rooms to make it suitable for a 
 gentleman to occupy. There Avas another house 
 belonging to himself, called the " Manor House," of 
 much better appearance, also situate in East Burn- 
 ham : but this was sadly out of repair, and decayed, 
 so that Captain Sayer preferred to live in the house 
 above mentioned, situated on the verge of the common. 
 Here he kept a pack of harriers, and lived like a 
 gentleman, though from having delicate health he 
 went rarely abroad. His hounds were maintained 
 more for his country neighbours' amusement than 
 his own, since he, poor man ! was all but blind, and 
 could take therefore very little share in any kind of 
 sport. 
 
 J\lr. Sayer had been in the army, and had received 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 141 
 
 a bullet wound at the battle of Minden, in 1759. 
 The belief entertained by his friends Avas, that he had 
 contracted an injury to his sight by sleeping on the 
 damp ground, in the campaign in Germany ; he was 
 never married. At the time of his residence on the 
 estate (which embraced a span of twenty-four years), 
 a vast deal of game was spread over the manor. Mr. 
 Sayer was a justice of the peace, and persons who 
 trespassed on the manor and killed his game were 
 often caught, and brought before him by his own 
 gamekeepers : yet he never would punish them, but 
 used to reprimand them gently, telling them " they 
 must not repeat the offence ;" after which, he would . 
 order them into the servants' hall to get victuals and 
 drink. Before Mr. Charles Eyre's death, the cottage, 
 to which Mr. Sayer afterwards made the addition I 
 have spoken of, would seem to have been occasionally 
 let for the summer, for it is well remembered in the 
 neighbourhood that, to this cottage Mr. Richard 
 Brinsley Sheridan brought his charming young bride, 
 Miss Linley, on returning to England from Flanders 
 after their stolen wedding; and here, therefore, may 
 be supposed to have been spent their real " honey- 
 moon." In Moore's Life of Sheridan will be found 
 letters from Sheridan written from East Burnham 
 Cottage. 
 
 To return to Mr. Charles Eyre. He left the bulk 
 of his personal property — which was considerable — 
 to his two daughters. The eldest was, a year or two 
 after his death, united in marriage to Mr. Coxe, a 
 gentleman of fortune in the county of Gloucester ; he 
 was nephew to Mr. Charles Eyre, through his mother, 
 and consequently cousin german in blood, though 
 
142 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 not In title, to Miss Elizabeth Eyre. She bore him 
 no children, being no longer young at this period, 
 and in the sequel (as will presently be narrated) she 
 managed to enrich his descendants by a former wife 
 with her own money. 
 
 After her marriage, Mrs. Coxe let the house in 
 which she and her father had so long resided, and 
 took possession of her new home at Lippiat, in 
 Gloucestershire. I cannot make out the names of the 
 parties who thenceforth tenanted " the great house" 
 at East Burnham, except that of a Mr. Sturt, and a 
 Mr. Stevenson, of Coxe Lodge, Co. Northumberland, 
 whose daughter became Countess of Mexborough, 
 and, with the Earl, also resided some time at East 
 Burnham. A Mr. Parry lived and died (in 1812) 
 at the Manor House^ the site of which was many 
 years since converted into a market garden, let to 
 Thomas Buckland, (formerly gamekeeper to the lord 
 of the manor,) where a noble cedar of Lebanon 
 remains and flourishes still, a vestige of the character 
 of the residence in bygone days. I am unable to 
 say who lived there after Mr. Parry's death, although 
 doubtless the books of the collector of rates and 
 taxes of the period would furnish the names, if 
 referred to. 
 
 During the reign (as we will call it) of Mr. Sayer 
 — viz., from 1786 down to 1810 — the hamlet of East 
 Burnham seems to have been profoundly tranquil and 
 stationary, the agriculture eminently primitive and 
 unskilful, the habits of the people rude and uncon- 
 trolled; the labouring class less depressed, perhaps, 
 than in many other districts, since Mr. Sayer was 
 liberal-lianded, Mrs. Coxe extremely kind and generous 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST EURNHAM. 143 
 
 towards them, and the formers held their land at an 
 easy rent. Mr. Sayer must have lived much within 
 his income, passing his days as he did in quiet retire- 
 ment, occup}dng his own house, and keeping an esta- 
 blishment of a moderate size. He seems to have had 
 a sister about his own age living with him, who died 
 one year before him, unmarried. An old man now 
 alive, named William Buckland, at the age of eighty- 
 four, relates that his father was gamekeeper to Captain 
 Sayer, and was also general overlooker of the woods 
 and the manor of East Burnham (or "Allards".) 
 He himself (the deponent) knew this place during 
 fifty years, never knew an instance of a tree standing 
 on the waste or forest being cut down, but sometimes 
 the wind would blow one down, or part of one, on 
 which occasions the lord of the manor always had 
 them cut up by his own men : often distributing among 
 the poor people the wood so obtained, but not invari- 
 ably. Sometimes took it home for his own use. 
 Had heard it said by many persons that Mr. Sayer 
 had no legal rights over the manor, not having in- 
 herited through the male line; still, nobody ever 
 contested it, Mr. Sayer being well liked by his 
 neighbours. 
 
 Another man, named Slaymaker, related to the 
 writer some particulars concerning this hamlet, in 
 December, 1856, he being then eighty-five. He came 
 first into this neighbourhood about the year 1792; 
 he was farm servant, or husbandry-labourer, and 
 shepherd, many years with a farmer named Edward 
 Gold win, who then held the farm now occupied by 
 Mr. William Watkins. During the eleven years of 
 Slaymaker's service w^ith Farmer Goldwin in East 
 
144 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Burnham, the cottagers of the hamlet enjoyed the 
 liberty of entering the woods belonging to Ca2:)tain 
 Sayer, at felling- time, and carrying away quantities of 
 "rough wood," or "lop and top." They were never 
 obstructed by the wood-cutters — indeed, Slaymaker 
 has often seen them assist the poor people (most of 
 them women) to cut up the large pieces : lending them 
 their hatchets occasionally, to facilitate the removal of 
 such wood as they could carry away on their backs. 
 The farmers in the immediate vicinity were in the 
 habit of sending their carts to fetch home to the 
 respective cottages the wood thus collected. Farmer 
 Gold win, Farmer Bonsey, and Farmer Taylor, all of 
 East Burnham, frequently lent their horses and men 
 for this purpose, so that most of the cottagers 
 possessed a tolerable stack of firewood, to which they 
 added sometimes a little peat, which they cut un- 
 molested when and where they liked, on the common. 
 But as wood was so easily obtained, peat or turf was 
 comparatively little used. Slaymaker mentioned, in 
 relation to these facts, the following anecdote. His 
 master (Goldwin) being then eighty years old, was 
 apt to be somewhat " short" in his temper, and one 
 day a woman named Plumridge coming to his house 
 to beg " that he would be so good as to send a cart 
 to draw home a load of wood belonging to her in 
 Captain Sayer's copse," the old man refused her 
 request. 
 
 After a pause, he told her to go and ask some other 
 neighbour — naming Farmers Bonsey and Taylor — 
 adding that "he (Goldwin) could not do it;" on re- 
 ceiving this rebuff, the woman went her wa}^, when 
 the old man called after her and said — -" I'll tell you 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHASf. 145 
 
 what ! good woman ; you shall have my cart and 
 horses, provided you give my men a drop of beer and 
 a bit of bread and cheese for their trouble, and that 
 is all it shall cost you." Slay maker witnessed this 
 colloquy, and recollects it distinctly, though at a dis- 
 tance of some forty years. Slaymaker confirms 
 Bucldand's statement that the game of Captain 
 Sayer's manor was very abundant. The whole dis- 
 trict was at that time (Slaymaker says) exceedingly 
 retired and unfrequented. Such a thing as a carriage 
 was never seen; poaching was habitually practised, 
 though (as Buckland likewise related) Mr. Sayer 
 Avould never proceed against the offenders. The 
 wonder is, that the game was not altogether destroyed ! 
 Slaymaker's wages, as labourer in husbandry, were 
 10.9. per week; he occupied a cottage, known as 
 " The Orchards," on the skirt of the common ; it be- 
 longed to the Hutchinson family at Beaconsfield, by 
 whom it was afterwards sold (about the year 1844) 
 to Mr. Grote. While Slaymaker occupied this tene- 
 ment, he paid a rent of 12/.; keeping a cow, some- 
 times a few sheep, and always some pigs, all of which 
 he pastured on the common and waste. 
 
 I pause here, to note the evidence furnished by an- 
 other old inhabitant of East Burnham, named Plum- 
 ridge (December, 1857). This man, being now eighty 
 years of age, tells me that he in his youth cut wood 
 for Captain Sayer ; that it is true that the cottagers 
 fetched a'way " rough wood" and " notch ends, and 
 such like," not being saleable as faggots, stakes, or 
 heathers; but, he adds, this wood so fetched away was 
 not had for nothing ; it was valued to the woodcutters 
 themselves, and " set off" as part payment of their 
 
 L 
 
146 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 work; they settling accounts in their turn with the 
 cottagers. 
 
 I come now to the period which succeeded to the 
 reign of Mr. Sayer ; that gentleman dying, at the age 
 of eighty, in the year 1810. But I must first relate 
 what befel Mrs. Coxe, who came to be an important 
 personage in the locality. 
 
 Mr. Coxe died, advanced in years, towards the 
 close of the last century, leaving Mrs. Coxe his estate 
 of Lippiat. She soon found it an unsuitable residence 
 for a single woman however, and, within a brief space, 
 quitted Gloucestershire, making over the house and 
 landed property to * Mr. Robert Gordon, M.P., who 
 had married the granddaughter of her late husband 
 by his first wife. 
 
 Mrs. Coxe, ever attracted by early associations to 
 the place of her birth, now resumed the occupation of 
 her mansion at East Burnham : spending the greater 
 part of the year there, but repairing to Bath (where 
 she had j)urchased a house) for the winter months. 
 
 With Captain Sayer, who, as has been related, lived 
 at East Burnham during the whole period of his pos- 
 session of the estates, Mrs. Coxe was on friendly and 
 familiar terms. He used to say to her, " Cousin, I 
 intend to leave you this house and land, and the 
 adjoining wood (Tomkins' Wood); and Popple shall 
 have the estates, and shall inhabit your large house." 
 
 In conformity with this assurance, Mr. Sayer made 
 a will, in which the whole of the Eyre estates, manors, 
 &c., were bequeathed to Mr. Popple, for life, and in 
 which the house and land above specified was left to 
 Mrs. Coxe for Iter life. The whole to revert to the 
 wdfe of Mr. Robert Gordon, absolutely. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 147 
 
 Mr. Sayer being the last male heir of the long line 
 of Eyres, whose property he enjoyed, was, it would 
 appear, master of the same, and competent to will it 
 away to whomsoever he thought fit. The heir in re- 
 mainder, Mrs. Gordon, was related by blood to the 
 testator, as has been already mentioned; and it was 
 believed that Mr. Sayer had been influenced by per- 
 sonal liking for Captain Popple and his lady in mak- 
 ing him his immediate heir; the rather, as he had little 
 or no acquaintance with the legitimate branch of his 
 uncle's family. 
 
 Captain Popple, on finding himself invested with the 
 possession of this fine property, came to reside at East 
 Burnham : obtaining permission from Mrs. Coxe to in- 
 habit the house belonging to her (where Mr. Eyre, her 
 father, had lived), as being a more capacious and gen- 
 tlemanlike residence for the " Squire" of the place. 
 During the first years of his tenure. Captain Popple 
 exercised his rights over his newly acquired pro- 
 perty very much to the satisfaction of the neigh- 
 bourhood;* his steward, a Mr. Hall, held his 
 "courts" at the Manor House, and attended to the 
 maintenance of the roads and highways, the gates 
 upon the waste, and all matters concerning the general 
 interest of the inhabitants. At the courts, " presenta- 
 tions" were made of any neglect of duty on the part of 
 the surveyor of roads, or of nuisances in the hamlet. 
 "William Buckland, of whom I have already spoken. 
 
 * Tovrarda the latter period of his life, Mrs. Coxe used to re- 
 proach her brother-in-law with neglecting his duties as Lord of the 
 Manor, and with allowing the highways and other matters to fall into 
 bad order : Mr. Popple always replying, " Yes, yes, I know it— I will 
 Lave it done" — and so forth. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 told me that his father passed into the service of 
 Captain Popple at the death of Mr. Sayer, as game- 
 keeper and overlooker of the woods. In ^Ir. Popple's 
 time, all the woods belonging to the East Burnhani 
 estate, except " The Beeches " proper, were fenced 
 about, but never locked. That in winter season all 
 the cottagers used to go and fetch away, at falling 
 time, as mucli " rough wood" as they chose for firing, 
 without molestation; he, Buckland, confirms Slay- 
 maker's statement in every particular as to the prac- 
 tice of the woodcutters permitting this to be done, 
 lending their hatchets, &c. &c. 
 
 Mrs. Coxe liaving consented to allow her brother- 
 in-law to occupy her house (whether rent free, or 
 otherwise, I am unable to say), Captain Popple be- 
 sought her to grant him an assurance that in case Mrs. 
 Popple should die before him he should not be dis- 
 turbed in his occupation as long as he lived ; to this 
 request Mrs. Coxe most kindly acceded, though not 
 without some reluctance, having a local attachment 
 to the spot where she had been born and bred. Mrs. 
 Coxe herself took possession of the house and land 
 which Mr. Sayer had left to her, where she spent the 
 greater part of the year, diff*using her bounty over the 
 humble inhabitants of the place, and influencing them 
 in every good direction by her precepts and example. 
 
 Now the heiress in remainder to all this fine 
 Eyre property was the wife of Mr. Robert Gordon, 
 M.P., sometime Secretary of the Treasury. (Her 
 grandmother was the first wife of Mr. Charles Coxe, 
 the husband, by second marriage, of Mrs. Coxe, late 
 Miss Eyre.) Mr. Robert Gordon wishing to realize 
 by anticipation a portion of his wife's prospective 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 149 
 
 inheritance, sold to lord Grenville* his wife's rever- 
 sionary interest in the estate; which transaction 
 coming to the knowledge of Mr. Popple, he began 
 cuttino^ the timber orrowino; in the East Burnham 
 and other woods, which he had a right to do as life 
 tenant. Lord Grenville, fearing to become a loser by 
 the bargain if this was persisted in, found himself 
 compelled to pay a considerable sum to Mr. Popple 
 in order to protect himself by a lease for seventeen 
 years, as I have been told.f Slaymaker stated that, 
 from the time of the said woods being leased to Lord 
 Grenville, the ancient practice of fetching out firewood 
 by the cottagers was put a stop to. Buckland affirmed 
 this also; adding that compensation was granted at 
 the time, in money, at the rate of 61. to each cottage. 
 As the occupants of these cottages successively died 
 ofi^, such payments ceased, and their successors 
 thenceforth took to cutting peat or turf for their 
 firing. Buckland adds, that up to this period but 
 little turf was used by the labouring people. 
 
 Soon after his accession to the property of Mr. 
 Sayer, Mr. Popple, effecting an exchange of lands 
 with the Eyre property, enlarged the little domain 
 around East Burnham House, by stopping up a road 
 called " Hagget's Lane," which formerly led from the 
 hamlet to Slough : and, throwing the land on either 
 side thereof into one undivided plot, he obtained an 
 area of about ninety acres, which received the appella- 
 tion of '' Popple's Park," and is so called in the parish 
 " Terrier" to this day. 
 
 * At the price of £54,000. 
 t Some persons state tlie price of this lease to have been 3000/. ; 
 otkers, rather less. 
 
150 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 I have been told that Mr. Popple gave up a wood 
 called " Moswells," and also some land in Burnham, 
 afterwards occupied by a farmer named Crocker, in 
 exchange for the ground contiguous to his resi- 
 dence. 
 
 It has already been stated that Lord Grenville, in 
 the 3'ear 1812, bought the reversion of Robert Gordon 
 at the price of 54,000/., and as regarded the woods, 
 having obtained a lease of them from Captain Popple 
 (paying smartly, however, for this), he awaited the 
 period of Popple's death, when he would take posses- 
 sion of the whole estate, manors, and privileges, of the 
 late Captain Sayer. 
 
 But Captain Popple " held on " till an advanced 
 age, not dying until 1830, when he had reached his 
 eightieth year.* Accordingly, Lord Grenville came 
 into the property under circumstances disadvantageous 
 to the purchaser. He had waited no less than 
 eighteen years or so for the falling in of the reversion 
 of Captain Popple's life tenancy, and then^ as might 
 have been expected, he found the buildings, fences, 
 and general condition of the farms deplorably di- 
 lapidated, and needing a vast outlay to put them into 
 anything like order and substantial repair. For tliis 
 outlay Lord Grenville was ill disposed, as may be 
 imagined. And an event took place, within a short 
 space after Mr. Po2:)ple's decease, which gave to the 
 transaction I have recorded an aspect of yet more 
 complete disappointment. 
 
 The dominant idea of Lord Grenville's whole life 
 
 * Each of the three last possessors of this property lived to the 
 age of eighty : one among many other evidences of the salubrity of the 
 place. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 151 
 
 was to secure political influence for the famil}^ of 
 which he was a member. The Marcjuis of Bucking- 
 ham, the head of that family, may be said to have 
 dreamed of little else : his mind was vastly inferior to 
 those of Lord Grenville and the third brother, Thomas 
 Grenville, and his claims to political office and power 
 arose almost entirely from the extent of his territorial 
 possessions, together with the pressure which he could 
 exercise at elections, over the tenantry of his lands, 
 and over the residents in his boroughs. Accordingly, 
 the aim of Lord Grenville, for many long years, was 
 to lay hold on every estate in the south of the county 
 of Bucks which came into the market, in the view of 
 strengthening the Grenville interest in the elections, 
 especially of the two members for the county. By 
 the aid of Lady Grenville's large inheritance (which 
 unexpectedly fell to her by the death of Lord Camel- 
 ford), and his own emoluments as one of the auditors 
 of the Exchequer, Lord Grenville managed to add 
 very largely to his landed possessions, and doubtless 
 to his political influence. Still, from the important 
 acquisition of the East Burnham and Huntercombe 
 property much less advantage resulted, either as an 
 investment, or as a means of multiplying dependent 
 voters, than his lordship had expected when efl'ecting 
 the bargain in 1812. Not only were the buildings on 
 the farms found to be quite decayed, and the labourers' 
 cottages half in ruins, on the Sayer estate; but the 
 Reform Bill swept away, two years after Lord Gren- 
 . ville came into the enjoyment of the estate, a large 
 portion of the advantap^e to be derived from the voters 
 living upon it. However, the distinguished statesman 
 himself closed his mortal career almost at the same 
 
]52 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 period, leaving to bis widow the charge of setting to 
 rights the dilapidations consequent upon five-and- 
 forty years' neglect and apathy, on the part of the 
 two aged predecessors, Captain Sayer and Captain 
 Popple. 
 
 On the death of Captain Popple, ]\Irs. Coxe thought 
 fit to remove to the house in tlie Park, wherein, by her 
 indulgence, he had resided up to his death in 1830. 
 The house which she now vacated was soon after let 
 to a clerical gentleman named Joyce (formerly of 
 Henley-upon-Thames), who received young gentlemen 
 in it as pupils. A Colonel Trant also rented the 
 house for a year or so. 
 
 The good and kind lady lived at the paternal man- 
 sion for about five years more, and died, regretted and 
 mourned by all who knew her, in 1835 ; she, like her 
 predecessors in the hamlet, having reached a ri^je and 
 healthy old age. 
 
 During the tenure of Mr. Popple, the house had 
 been enlarged, at the joint expense of himself and Mrs. 
 Coxe, and was at this period a handsome, spacious 
 mansion, containing twenty-eight rooms. The plea- 
 sure-grounds were suitably kept up, and the walled 
 fruit gardens were extensive and productive. 
 
 From 1836 to 1838 the house in which Captain 
 Sayer had lived remained unoccupied. The land was 
 let to neighbouring farmers, whilst the garden was 
 suffered to go to ruin. 
 
 The mansion in " Popple's Park " was offered in 
 vain to be let. Dancer refusing to relinquish his lease 
 (except upon extravagant terms), no gentleman would 
 take the place. Mrs. Coxe had bequeathed the house 
 and laud, together with 10,000/. in money, to Mrs. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURMHAM. 153 
 
 Gordon; but she left the furniture, and "personals" 
 belonging to her, to a young man (her godson, I. 
 believe), named Philip Shepherd, whom she had 
 brought up, and to whom, moreover, she left the 
 bulk of her funded property, Avhicli was consider- 
 able. To this gentleman — who was her residuary 
 legatee — was also left the reversion of an annuity 
 of 50/. a year bestowed upon Mrs. James Dancer,* 
 during long years the faithful attendant of the 
 testatrix. 
 
 In 1837, Mr. Robert Gordon, finding no one dis- 
 posed to rent the great house, proceeded to pull it 
 down, and sell the materials : whilst the old Manor 
 House which, from long neglect, was in bad con- 
 dition, underwent the same fate by order of Lady 
 Grenville. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that the hamlet of East 
 Burnham, which, during perhaps a century, had 
 possessed three opulent families, now found itself all 
 at once without either a gentleman or lady resident. 
 The only gentleman's house left standing was that in 
 which Captain Sayer had resided. Besides this there 
 was a small but genteel cottage, standing in a plot of 
 some eight or nine acres of ground, near the old 
 Manor House, and now inhabited by Mrs. Elizabeth 
 Dancer and her husband : the land had been given to 
 her during Mrs. Coxe's lifetime, and the cost of 
 building the dwelling-house had likewise been defrayed 
 by that benevolent lady. Mrs. Dancer (whose hus- 
 band was brother to the lessee of " Popple's Park") 
 afterwards bought the small cottage and garden situate 
 
 * Now living in the village of Burnham. 
 
15-i SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 on the verge of her own ground, paying for it 200^. 
 to Mr. Gordon. 
 
 Such was the condition of the Hamlet of East 
 Burnham at the period when accident led me to 
 become acquainted with this " out-of-the-way" spot. 
 I had for some time been on the look-out for a rural 
 dwelling in some healtliful, retired district, where the 
 air and water were good, and where I could find 
 facilities for walking and rambling about, on ground 
 other than a dusty high-road. These conditions 
 appearing to be realized by the district in question, I 
 opened a negotiation with Mr. Gordon, which resulted 
 in a purchase, by Mr. Grote, of that property which 
 Mr. Saj^er had left, for her life, to Mrs. Coxe : con- 
 sisting of the house and land, a labourer's cottage 
 and garden (let to G. Taylor), and a Avood, of about 
 eleven acres, called " Tomkins' Wood." We took 
 possession of this little estate about the month 
 of June, 1838, but found that extensive repairs 
 must be undertaken, which were effected in time to 
 enable us to establish our residence therein during 
 the course of the same autumn. It would have been 
 wise to have pulled down all the older portion (or 
 " Sheridan's Cottage," as Mr. Sayer used to call it), 
 together with the stabling and out-buildings, and to 
 have rebuilt these. However, my state of health 
 was at this time too delicate to allow of my post- 
 poning the occupation of our country retreat, and we 
 accordingl}^ contented ourselves with mending up 
 the old concern so as to be "habitable;" removing 
 to our London house about Christmas, 1838-9. 
 
 Within a year of our establishing this menage at 
 
THE HAJklLET OF EAST BUllNHAM. 155 
 
 East Burnham, we made an exchange of lands with 
 Lady Grenville, which conduced sensibly to the com- 
 fort of our occupancy. The adjacent orchard and a 
 cottage, together with a close lying north of this 
 orchard, and bounding our garden on the east, were 
 conveyed over to us by Lady Grenville, along with a 
 slip of land through which a public footpath ran from 
 East Burnham to the common-side. 
 
 In return for this lot of land, we gave up to her, 
 first, a cottage and garden on the north edge of our 
 meadow (called the Captain's Meadow); secondly, 
 two very good meadows, called respectively " Dod's 
 Meadow" and " Appletree Close," situate on the east 
 side of the slip on the slope of the hill, containing more 
 land than the lot which we obtained ; and over and 
 above this exchange, we paid Lady Grenville in 
 money the sum of 200/. The object we considered so 
 desirable, of possessing the ground abutting on our 
 garden, that we willingly consented to this arrange- 
 ment, which certainly left her ladyship a clear gainer. 
 
 On Lady Grenville's coming into the exercise of 
 her rights over the property and privileges of East 
 Burnham, I have understood that " a court" was held 
 at which (among other business) it was laid down as a 
 regulation that no person should be permitted to cut 
 turf for firing on the common except the inhabitants of 
 East Burnham proper, and that such inhabitants were 
 to limit their cutthig to 2000 turves for each cottage, or, 
 as the phrase ran, for " each chimney." Now, as I was 
 anxious to be informed how the matter stood in regard 
 to the lord of the manor and the occupiers of houses 
 in the " Liberty," I asked Mr. Bowman (the steward 
 of Lady Grenville) to state the footing on which this 
 
156 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 privilege was placed. The steward told me that I was 
 at liberty to cut turves for my own house, and turves 
 for my cottage at the end of the orchard, at the rate 
 of 2000 each tenement. 
 
 I caused turf to be cut on this understanding from 
 1838 till 1851, when I quitted my original residence in 
 East Burnliam. My successor and tenant did the same ; 
 no hindrance or objection ever arose on the part of 
 I;ady Grenville, to the best of my knowledge, nor were 
 the labouring people ever interfered with in cutting 
 and carrying away their parcels. It was universally 
 believed that this rio-ht belono;ed to the inhabitants, in 
 the same way as the right of turning out animals to 
 pasture and hogs to fatten on the acorns and beech- 
 mast — a right, subject, of course, to restrictions against 
 injury to the property of the manor, or to the persons 
 and property of other parties, or the general interests 
 of the public frequenting the district. 
 
 I shall return to this subject by-and-bye, but mean- 
 Avhile I must say a word or two upon the general 
 character of the population of East Burnham, such 
 as I found it in 1838, and during many following 
 years. In the first place, the inhabitants earned 
 their living almost entirely by husbandry labour. 
 Neither a tailor, shoemaker, j^lumber, or, in fact, 
 any kind of skilled artisan, was to be found in our 
 hamlet. One old man, of the name of Huirhes, lived 
 by working as a bricklayer; and a young man, named 
 John James, bred to the trade of a wheelwright and 
 cart-maker, could also act as carpenter, bricklayer, or 
 in almost any handicraft connected with country life. 
 He, however, did not at first live in East Burnham, 
 but occupied a tenement in Farnham parish, until I 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 157 
 
 " located" him, a few years later, in a house which I 
 caused to be built (on the ruins of another cottage) 
 on a croft adjoining the common, bought in 1844 of 
 a family living at Beaconsfield. 
 
 Besides Hughes, there was the landlord of tlie 
 little alehouse called " The Crown," and a man named 
 Eyder, who got his living by attending markets, and 
 again selling by retail various produce, such as oats, 
 bran, flour, poultry, pigs, and pigmeat — keeping a 
 horse and cart; and also a huckster's shop on an hum- 
 ble scale. These formed the exceptions. All my 
 other neighbours followed husbandry in all its 
 branches, including woodcutting and hurdlemaking, 
 thatching and sheepshearing, &c. We could not 
 even boast of a smith in " the Liberty," though one 
 lived hard by, in the adjoining parish of Farnham; 
 neither had we a baker ! — the Burnham baker reiju- 
 larly bringing bread on stated days, to supply the 
 dwellers in East Burnham, only a few of whom ad- 
 hered to the old practice of " baking" at home. The 
 women were, here and there, in the habit of hawking 
 small wood, in donkey carts, to Eton and Windsor, 
 distant four to five miles — buying wood in the copses, 
 fetching it out, and cutting it up at home in little 
 faggots, called " pimps." Sometimes, I am afraid, 
 the faggots were made not wholly out of such wood, 
 but out of wood stolen by the urchins out of the 
 copses, at dusk — at least so said the wood -overseers 
 in the service of the proprietors. Again, a few of 
 my cottagers' wives would have a lace-pillow, which, 
 dui'ing winter, they would work at — lace being a 
 traditional occupation in the county of Bucks. But 
 after the year 1844, or thereabouts, lace-making 
 
158 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 dropped out of the list of industrial occupations — 
 macliine-niade lace completely supplanting " pillow- 
 made" by its low price. 
 
 The women of East Burnham were, for the most 
 part, hard-working, decent, and good-hearted crea- 
 tures, and friendly neighbours: labouring in the 
 fields at stone-picking, weeding wheat, reaping, glean- 
 ing, &c., and going out to help wash at farmers' and 
 gentlefolks' houses, as occasion offered. For the male 
 portion of the community there was, commonly 
 speaking, a constant round of employment — some- 
 what more, indeed, than it is usual for rustic 
 labourers to obtain. The vast extent of woodland in 
 that nei2"hbourhood created a constant demand for 
 woodcutters when hard frost and snow forbade farm- 
 ing operations. Thrashing machines obtained but 
 slowly among the farmers round East Burnham, who 
 thus furnished long thrashing jobs, at piece-work (or 
 "by the grate") to their men in hard weather. The 
 immense amount of hedge-rows required a considerable 
 outlay to keep them and their ditches up ; the preserv- 
 ing of the game on the manor absorbed many of the 
 men as watchers and under-keepers ; and furthermore, 
 at a season which often leaves the farm hands slack of 
 work — namely, whilst the crops are ripening after 
 midsummer, and ha^^making is pretty well over — then 
 would our people fall to at " cherry gathering ;" a 
 business which, in a good " bearing time," keeps 
 scores of "hands" fully employed. The country 
 teems with fruit in every direction, and some idea 
 may be framed of the magnitude of the dealings in 
 the article of cherries alone, when I state that John 
 James (the man already mentioned) has for some 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 159 
 
 years past found it answer to spend five or six weeks 
 in Liverpool, selling to retail fruit-vendors the pro- 
 duce of the district round East Burnham — his father 
 buying up the orchards, distributing his " gatherers" 
 among them, and dispatcliing nightly by the railway 
 well-packed baskets of cherries to his son at Liverpool. 
 
 The women meanwhile earn a good penny at straw- 
 berry and raspberry gathering in the market gardens, 
 chiefly to supply the demand for these favourite 
 fruits on the part of the eight hundred Eton boys. 
 Many of the cottagers keep bees, and turn another 
 penny in this way at ]\Iichaelmas. 
 
 As to the boys of our hamlet, they need never be 
 at a loss for work. At some seasons one cannot 
 obtain a boy " for love or money," as the saying goes. 
 The parents usually send their children to the school 
 (founded by the generous Mrs. Coxe for the benefit 
 of the poor of the hamlet of East Burnham) from the 
 age of six to eight or nine years, when the boys go 
 forth to farm service, seldom, however, quitting the 
 parental roof; for the modern practice of farmers is 
 to hire boys at weekly wages, not " boarding" them 
 in the farmhouses, as was the usage some fifty years 
 since. 
 
 Boys are, however, hired for a specified term, 
 occasionally, receiving a certain payment weekly for 
 victuals until the end of the term, when the residue 
 is paid in full. This arrangement is made only with 
 the best boys of the place, because the employer 
 wishes to make sure of their services — the final sum 
 being conditional on the boy's completing his time as 
 agreed ; usually one year. 
 
 The girls continue at school longer than the boys, 
 
160 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 altlioiif^:!! what they learn is worth mighty little. 
 After they are able to read, write, and cast up a sum, 
 little more is gained, except a slight knowledge of 
 Scripture history, and, perhaps, the elements of 
 needlework. The mothei'S, however, enjoy the ad- 
 vantage of being " rid" of the children for many 
 hours of each day, and are freed from the necessity 
 of staying at home to look after them, instead of 
 going out to work. As the girls approach the age of 
 fourteen or fifteen, they get out to service, chiefly in 
 that of the middle classes, such as farmers, trades- 
 men, and innkeepers; passing, as occasion offers, 
 later in life, into wives of young men of their own 
 station, frequently of their own parish. Of the 
 chastity of this part of East Burnham population I 
 may not boast. As in most other rural districts, the 
 3^oung women were, in some instances, mothers before 
 they became wives; nevertheless, the young men show 
 a preference for correct females in selecting their 
 partners for life, and I am warranted in adding, that 
 the larger number of my poor neighbours possessed 
 the merit of being honest, well-conducted wives and 
 careful mothers, as they likewise were hardworking, 
 sober women. 
 
 JSow, having given a general sketch of the indus- 
 trial condition of " my hamlet" (as I used to call it), 
 the reader will perceive that this condition placed 
 the labouring folk somewhat liigh in the scale of 
 comfort. To the advantages I have enumerated, of 
 sufficient and diversified employment, of cheap firing 
 (for the wooded district around East Burnham fur- 
 nished a constant sup[)ly of broken and drift wood 
 for the women to collect, and the woodcutters always 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 161 
 
 carried home a load of faggot wood, on leaving work, 
 from the copses in winter), must be added the annual 
 distribution of clothing made to the inhabitants of 
 East Burnham at Christmas, to the amount of perhaps 
 2>l. to 3/. IO5. per cottage, in pursuance of a bequest 
 made by the kind lady so often named in this memoir, 
 Mrs. Coxe. She left a sum of some 2660^. Consols, 
 as a fund wherewith to enable certain trustees to 
 distribute clothing and linen to her poor neighbours 
 and their posterity. 
 
 This bequest, however, although affecting the 
 interests of the labouring people beneficially to a 
 certain degree, has proved less advantageous to them 
 than might have been expected; and this owing to 
 two causes. First, the cottages which (to use the 
 phrase current in the hamlet), " carried the gift," 
 were sought after so eagerly, that the rents demanded 
 of the tenants have all alono; been hio;her than the 
 tenements would have fetched under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances. Accordingly, the benefit accruing to 
 the cottagers is divided between them and the owners 
 of their tenements. The larger number of these is 
 the property of Lady Grenville : two or three belong 
 to the family at Beaconsfield before mentioned. 
 
 I had built three, on the site of as many ruined 
 dilapidated abodes which I found in the place, and 
 one belonged (and still belongs) to Mrs. Dancer. But 
 Lady Grenville has suffered no less than five tene- 
 ments to tumble down, from sheer decay, since my 
 first acquaintance with the hamlet — three in the lane 
 near " Lock's Bottom," one near the " Crown," and 
 one in the way to Up-end Farnham, not far from 
 " The Conduit." I am inclined to think that more 
 
 M 
 
162 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 than five have ceased to exist since Lord Grenville 
 came to the property, but of this I am not quite 
 certain. 
 
 Now the loss of five cottages out of the small 
 number composing our hamlet, has had the effect of 
 driving the young couples to settle out of it, and to 
 obtain a dwelling at a distance; also, it has deprived 
 five labouring men's families of a welcome help; 
 throwing into the lap of the actual recipients a 
 greater share than they ought to receive, and, in fact, 
 a greater share than they really require : inasmuch 
 as Mrs. Carter told me, in 1857, that she had been 
 led to exceed the limits of her legal power, and thus 
 to bestow blankets upon some of the poor who stood 
 in need of no farther supply of clothing. The terms 
 of jMrs. Coxe's bequest being thus in some sort 
 infringed. 
 
 Again, for want of cottages, the farmers are com- 
 pelled to engage farm-labourers living at a consider- 
 able distance from their fields, by which much time 
 is lost goino; to and from work, and additional fatioue 
 is laid upon the working man, who, after a long 
 summer's day, has to trudge two miles or more to 
 reach his own roof-tree.* 
 
 Three very small tenements, containing as many 
 families, were erected by Lady Grenville, about the 
 year 1838, one of which is devoted to the holding of 
 the day school, endowed by Mrs. Coxe, for the gratui- 
 tous instruction of the poor children of the hamlet. 
 
 * It ought not to be forgotten either that of late years, our 
 farmers having improved in their knowledge of the science, more 
 hands have been needed to carry on farming operations than 
 formerly. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 163 
 
 The interpretation put upon Mrs. Coxe's will by 
 Mr. Carter, the respected vicar of Burnham, and 
 " ex officio" one of the trustees under the charity, was 
 entirely arbitrary; some cottages lying on the skirts 
 of "the Liberty" not being admitted to share in " the 
 gift," although others, equally distant, received it. 
 One rule, however, was laid down, which has been 
 acted upon undeviatingly — viz. .that no new tenements 
 should be entitled to the charity, unless built on the 
 ruins of one in existence at the period of Mrs. Coxe's 
 decease. 
 
 Now, the cottages being, as I have stated, almost 
 all Lady Grenville's, and some of them old de- 
 cayed, half-rotten dwellings, unfit for a decent pea- 
 santry to inhabit, the question naturally arises, — 
 how is it that Lady Grenville permits the hamlet 
 to become, as it were, depopulated, by the dis- 
 appearance of its cottages, and that she suffers 
 those which remain to fall out of repair, although 
 the rent which is paid for them is what would be 
 considered " high" ? 
 
 This question, however, is only one out of many 
 which suggest themselves to whoever happens to take 
 notice of the general aspect of things in the Liberty 
 of East Burnham. With equal, if not greater, reason 
 would the visitor ask why all tlie " Common gates" 
 have been suffered to disappear, so that cattle turned 
 to pasture on the common stray beyond the Liberty, 
 and trespass on private lands? Why the "pound" 
 was absolutely useless for many years, for want of the 
 trifling expenditure which it was the duty (as it was 
 the privilege) of the Lord of the Manor to bestow 
 upon it? Why the dams or "pond-heads" on the 
 
 M 2 
 
164 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 manor were left to fall in, letting the water rush out, 
 and so destroy the passage across for horse or foot 
 wayfarers, and losing a store of water useful to the 
 residents? Why the fann buildings were not repaired, 
 the fences made good on the roadsides, the stiles main- 
 tained on footways — the tenants enjoined to keep their 
 ditches scoured and to keep the highways of the 
 Liberty in a creditable state? Why — but I should 
 never finish were I to go through the series of " acts 
 undone which ou2:ht to have been done" in reference 
 to this neo'lected district. 
 
 The current impression in the place was that Lady 
 Grenville entertained a feeling akin to spite and aver- 
 sion towards this portion of her estates ; and certainly, 
 if such was the case, no one could wonder at it, after 
 learning what I have related, concerning the mistaken 
 calculation which her husband fell into in purchasing 
 the reversion of it at so high a rate. Her ladyship 
 very rarely visited the hamlet, and I never heard of 
 her setting foot in any one of the cottages or farms 
 upon this estate during the twenty years of my con- 
 nexion with East Burn ham. 
 
 I hardly exchanged a word with her steward, Mr. 
 Bowman, from 1839 to 1851. I frequently tried to 
 see him, for the purpose of asking his assistance in 
 repairing parts of the causeways, in repressing the 
 abuse of pig depasturing, in keeping up pond-heads, in 
 preventing injury being done to the old trees, in 
 relieving stoppages of the " conduit" or reservoir, and 
 many similar matters ; but on no occasion could I obtain 
 his personal co-operation. The pigs were suffered to 
 disfigure the whole neighbourhood, being turned out 
 loose without rings in their noses. It was the duty of 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 165 
 
 the steward to compel the owners to put rings in them 
 if turned loose, and to cause the hogwarden, or " hay- 
 ward,'' or " howard" (as this ancient function has come 
 to be designated), to impound the ringless hogs. No 
 heed was taken of my repeated applications for the 
 steward's interference on this point, and the pigs ran 
 riot over " the Beeches," ploughing up whole roods of 
 close green turf every autumn. Not only hogs be- 
 longing to inhabitants, but droves of these animals, 
 brought from miles around, came grunting into the 
 forest, searching for the beech-mast for weeks to- 
 gether, unchecked by the manorial officers. The 
 roads in the Liberty were neglected, and suffered to 
 become dis^iTaceful, both from the accumulation of 
 mud and from deep ruts. The charge of them lay 
 with the surveyor of the highways of East Burnhara 
 Liberty, or " Hallwards," as it was frequently called, 
 after its ancient name. This officer was chosen 
 annually, or bi-annually, by the parishioners of Burn- 
 ham in vestry, by vote. But there was no " gentle- 
 man" living in East Burnham after Captain Popple's 
 death, and accordingly the office fell into the hands 
 of one or other of the three occupiers of land in the 
 "Liberty;'' farmers all, who "served" in rotation, 
 levying a rate upon the inhabitants for the expense of 
 keeping the roads in repair. The rate was chargeable 
 on land and houses, woodland not paying highway 
 rates. Accordingly, the weight of the charge lay 
 upon the farmers themselves, the houses contributing, 
 of course, far less than the land. The few acres be- 
 longing to us formed but a slender exception, the 
 whole of the lands being rented under Lady Gren- 
 ville, except the woods, which were in her own hands, 
 
166 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 and, as has already been observed, paid no rate to the 
 highway's. 
 
 Now, the interest of the farmer being to keep the 
 expenses as low as possible, and to pay as little 
 towards them as he could, the roads became hope- 
 lessly bad, in all parts except on the high road 
 between Windsor and Beaconsfield, which was main- 
 tained in tolerable order, out of respect to " the 
 parish," which would have complained of any short- 
 comings on that portion of our district. In vain have 
 I remonstrated with the surveyor upon the condition 
 of the roads. So long as there was nobody but the 
 farmers to serve the office, so long was it useless to 
 strive for an improved management. The ditches, 
 rarely "scoured," stood full of stagnant water, the 
 water ran over the roads, and wore " gutters" in 
 them, though an hour's work would have cleared a 
 passage down the ditch at the side; the mud was 
 " overshoes" deep, the hedges were never trimmed, 
 the trees dripped upon the roads (Lady Grenville's 
 steward prohibiting their being "lopped"), the ruts 
 were deepened by the heavy-wheeled wains, and 
 in short there was widespread indifference to the 
 condition of all the bye-roads around East Burnham. 
 This was just a case in which tlie interposition of the 
 owner of the lands would have proved beneficial to 
 the inhabitants at large. But the saying, " Property 
 hath its duties as well as its rights," found no con- 
 firmation at the hands of Lady Grenville. And, as 
 far as my information extended, the steward confined 
 his labours to the producing of as much rent and 
 profit as it was possible to extract from this much 
 neglected estate. Not only Avere new tenements not 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 167 
 
 built in the place of old ones, but space was grudged 
 for pigsties, which, in the case of the dwellers in the 
 " courtyard," were placed close to the cottage doors, 
 forming an ensemble strictly resembling a cluster of 
 Irish " cabins." 
 
 The only really active exertions made by Lady 
 Grenville's steward were directed to the repression of 
 poaching, which practice was visited with constant 
 penalties; offenders being summoned before the 
 justices on every occasion of detection, and punished 
 accordingly. Lady Grenville deriving a consider- 
 able income from the shooting on her manors, she 
 naturally sought to secure the exclusive right over 
 the game, which, however, subsisted upon the neigh- 
 bouring lands ; the lessee of the manor being under- 
 stood to pay the value or damage of the same to the 
 respective occupants. 
 
 Agahi, in the village, or rather hamlet, of East 
 Burnham, stood an alehouse, which in the days of 
 " Squire Popple," sold Avholesome beer, being a " free- 
 house," as it is termed. The labouring folk say that 
 the beer was usually very good, and sometimes home- 
 brewed. When Lady Grenville took possession of 
 the property, this alehouse was let on lease to a 
 brewer, who naturally offered more rent than a 
 private individual could afford to pay; and from that 
 day to this (1858), the poor people have had noticing 
 but inferior, and in some sort unwholesome, beer 
 supplied to them. A beer-shop on the "common 
 side" sells beer of similar quality, neither better 
 nor worse : both being tenants under two different 
 brewers, and obliged to vend their " mixture," and 
 nothing else. A real advantage would be gained 
 
168 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 by the cottagers at East Burnliam, were Lady 
 Grenville to let " The Crown" to a tenant paying 
 his 3'early rent to herself ; but she might not ob- 
 tain quite so high a rent in this way, and thus the 
 poor people feel and say that they must drink bad 
 beer, in order to profit the Lady of the Manor. I 
 know that one of the most general complaints against 
 this lady's management has always been, that she 
 let the only public-house to a brewer, and deprived 
 the cottagers of the chance of good liquor. 
 
 I have already stated that, when we took up our 
 quarters in East Burnham, no other "gentlefolk" 
 resided in the Liberty. There subsequently came to 
 live, in Mrs. Dancer's cottage, a retired military 
 officer, named Rivers; but he was an invalid, and 
 scarcely made an exception to my statement. 
 
 I lived in the house, formerly Mrs. Coxe's, from 
 1838 to the end of the year 1850, when we resolved 
 to give up this residence, letting the house to the 
 widow Lady Shadwell, and her daughters. Lady 
 Shad well dying in 1852, the house reverted to our 
 possession, and in 1853 we sold it, along with the 
 twenty-four acres of land, three cottages, and the 
 timber, to Mr. Ludlam, who shortl}'' after came to 
 reside upon the same with his family. 
 
 " The Park" had been purchased by us from Mr. 
 Robert Gordon in the year 1844 : we buying up the 
 remainder of Mr. Dancer's term, and thereby acquir- 
 ing full possession of the estate. There was no house 
 whatever on this little property, consisting of eighty- 
 seven acres in a ring-fence. A market-gardener, 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 169 
 
 named John Timblick, lived in what had once been 
 an " orangery," which was situated in the old man- 
 sion's kitchen-garden. This he rented under Mr. 
 Gordon, and continued to rent under me : cultivating 
 fruit and vegetables for the supply of Eton and 
 Windsor demand. 
 
 But in 1852 1 caused a small Elizabethan house 
 to be built in this " Popple's Park," and also a range 
 of farm buildings and a labourer's cottage; and 
 letting the land for seven years to Mr. Wm. Webster 
 (a farmer already occupying a farm in our Liberty, 
 under Lady Grenville), I came myself, in January, 
 1853, to this house, where I passed (at intervals) 
 about the half of every year. During the period 
 of my absence from East Burnham — viz., from 
 January, 1851, to January, 1853 — there had arisen 
 some circumstances which somewhat disturbed the 
 relations between the inhabitants and the Lady of 
 the ^lanor. Much of the heath and turf on East 
 Burnham common had been cut and carted away 
 by persons living out of the Liberty, for sale. The 
 practice at length became so notorious, that the 
 steward interfered to prevent it, placing watchers 
 for that purpose. He next proclaimed a regulation 
 that no turves should be cut, even by the cottagers, 
 except in boggy, swampy places. Since these turves 
 cost much more labour, both to cut, to drj^, and to 
 cart off, than the turves cut on solid ground, this 
 regulation was very loosely observed, and in conse- 
 quence, matters were already growing uncomfortable 
 on this point when I resumed my intercourse with 
 the hamlet. In 1854, I ordered my usual lot of turves 
 to be cut, by a labouring man accustomed to the work, 
 
170 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 and these were duly brought home and housed. In 
 1855 I proceeded in like manner. 
 
 About that period Mr. Bowman, the steward, was 
 dismissed from his office, and we were informed that 
 in his stead a new steward had been appointed, who 
 was to live in Cornwall, and only visit Dro[)more oc- 
 casionally : to hold courts, receive rents, and the like. 
 Meanwhile, a youth named Forbes announced him- 
 self to the inhabitants as acting steward, or deputy, 
 whose duty it was to watch over the interests of the 
 manor, but who was bound to refer all important 
 matters to the gentleman at the " Land's End." 
 
 In the summer of 1^56 I ordered a man named 
 Armon (one of our husbandry labourers in the 
 Liberty), to cut 1000 turves for me, in the parts 
 prescribed by Lady Grenville's steward, on the 
 waste. 
 
 Not long after these turves were cut and set up to 
 dry, my gardener came and told me that Mr. Forbes 
 had caused my " lot," together with turves cut by 
 some other parties (cottagers), to be carted away and 
 burned. Tliis proceeding, taken without any notice 
 or remark as towards myself, I regarded as oiFensive 
 in itself; and it further occasioned me to institute 
 some inquiries among the elders of the hamlet, relative 
 to the ancient practice of " the Liberty," and the 
 supposed riglits of the ratepayers and freeholders 
 living within the Manor of Halhvards. The result of 
 these inquiries I have embodied in a former portion 
 of this memoir. (See page 155). 
 
 Among the inhabitants of our hamlet, a ver}^ general 
 feeling arose against the arbitrary acts of Lady Gren- 
 ville's steward, and I was strongly tempted to endea- 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 171 
 
 vour to obtain some redress on behalf of the cot- 
 tagers. Although I cared little or nothing for the 
 privilege of cutting turves myself, it seemed to me a 
 fit occasion to interfere, if only to arrive at a more 
 definite understandino' as to what rights belon":ed to 
 the Lady of the ^lanor, and what rights belonged to 
 the inhabitants; especially the owners of land in the 
 Liberty, or freeholders, of whom there were three or 
 four besides myself. 
 
 I accordingly drew up and forwarded a memorial to 
 Lady Grenville, stating the circumstances which had 
 occurred, and requesting her ladyship to communicate 
 to us the exact conditions which she considered herself 
 justified in claiming, in regard to the inhabitants, on 
 the subject of turf, sod, peat, sand, and the. like; 
 the memorial was signed by Mr. Grote, and by some 
 other parties, occupiers of land, interested in the 
 question. 
 
 After the lapse of a fortnight we received a reply, 
 penned, as we understood, by the steward who lived 
 at the estate belonging to Lady Grenville in Cornwall, 
 of which reply I here annex a copy : 
 
 Boconnoc, 12tli August, 1S56. 
 
 Gentlemen, — I am authorized to say, that Lady Grenville has 
 received the Memorial, dated July 28Lh, 1856, signed by certain 
 " inhabitants and occupants of land in East Burnham," in which 
 the memorialists state that certain lots of turf, cut by some of them 
 in the exercise (as they say) of their long enjoyed rights on East 
 Burnham Common, having been recently removed and burnt without 
 any previous notice to them that sucii a step would be taken, they ask 
 on what grounds it proceeds ? 
 
 And then, supposing the grounds of the recent proceeding to 
 have been, that turf has been cut either in greater quantity than the 
 understood rights of each occupant warrant, or by persons not duly 
 authorized, or in an unsuitable and unusual portion of the common, 
 the memorialists " submit that the limits which her ladyship (as Lady 
 
172 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 of the Manor) is disposed to prescribe ought to be distinctly specified 
 and made known." 
 
 Brfore answering the question as to tlie grounds of the recent 
 proceeding, Lady Grenville begs to remind the memorialists, that 
 Eiist Burnham Common is not a common of turbary. No one, 
 therefore, in virtue of his being an inhabitant and occupant of land 
 in East Burnham, has any right to cut turves on the common with- 
 out permission of Lady Grenville (as Lady of the Manor): that 
 permission, within certain limits, has been accorded to the cottagers 
 of East Burnham, to whom a little peat-turf for fuel was a great 
 boon. The limit, as regards place, was confined to the bogs, and 
 as regards quantity, it was not to exceed annuallj^ to each cottage, 
 two thousand turves, each turf to be not more than 12 in. long by 
 6 in. wide by 3 in. thick ; and her ladyship is surprised to learn 
 that the memorialists should be ignorant as to what those limits 
 were, as one or more of them, she believes, was present at a Court 
 Baron when the limits prescribed were distinctly specified and 
 made known.* 
 
 Some of the parties, however, to whom the before-mentioned 
 privilege was accorded, and possibly others to wliom it was not 
 accorded, instead of confining themselves to the bogs for peat-turf, 
 have at various times of late gone on other parts of the con.mon, 
 and have skimmed ofi' the surface, to the great injury of the pas- 
 turage of the common ; and on one of the aggressors being summoned 
 before the magistrates for the trespass, he set up a claim, as of right, 
 to do what he had done. 
 
 Under these circumstances itwas that the turf found upon the common, 
 not on bog ground, was removed ; and Lady Grenville cannot but 
 thiuk that the memorialists themselves must consider the act perfectly 
 justifiable. 
 
 Ihere was no intention of withdrawing the privilege which has 
 been accorded to the cottager, so long as he did not abuse it; but that 
 which was permitted as a favour, must not be claimed by the recipients 
 as a matter of right. 
 
 I am, gentlemen. 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 Wm. Pease. 
 
 To Messrs. W. Bayley, W. Williamson, and others. 
 
 Ihe tenor of Lady Grenville's reply gave us to 
 understand that she acknowledged no right or privi- 
 leges as regarded the waste land in East Burnham, on 
 the part of any one but herself. That she did not 
 
 * See page 155. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 173 
 
 intend to forbid tlie practice of cutting turf, subject 
 to the stipulations already laid down, but would con- 
 tinue to permit turf to be cut for fuel, in the propor- 
 tions which had for many years been allowed to the 
 inhabitants of East Burnham. The document declares 
 the common not to be a " common of turbary," and 
 Lady Grenville assumes the exclusive jurisdiction 
 over the whole district, to the entire abrogation of all 
 other rights or privileges on the part of any one else. 
 If she grants leave to take away any portion of the 
 soil, such as turf, sand, gravel, peat, or the like, it is 
 as a matter of favour, which may be annulled at 
 pleasure. 
 
 This construction of the rights pertaining to the 
 Lady of the Manor was far from being satisfactory to 
 the memorialists. Few or none of the neis^hbours 
 yielded their conviction to Lady Grenville's asser- 
 tions of unbounded and undivided leo^al risfht over 
 the common; but since she had declared her readiness 
 to allow of the turf being cut and used for fuel, we 
 judged it on the whole better to suffer the question 
 to rest where it was. When the summer of 1857 
 drew nigh, I directed my gardener to get 1000 turves 
 cut as heretofoi'c. The people on the common-side 
 informed him that the young man who acted as 
 deputy to the steward had recently laid down a new 
 regulation : namely, that no one should cut turves 
 except such men as were in the employ of Lady 
 Grenville, and, as such, responsible to the steward. 
 I accordingly employed a man coming under that 
 category, and in due course carted home ray turves. 
 
 In a few weeks after this, I sent a cart and horse 
 to bring in a small number of green turves for my 
 
174 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 jrarden erlgins:, which I had had cut on a corner of 
 the common. Whilst my people were loading the 
 turves, they were accosted by the young man, Forbes, 
 wdio said that " Madam Grote had no right to take 
 turf oif the common," and that " lie had a great mind 
 to seize the cart, and to take the men employed there- 
 with before the justices for trespassing," and so forth. 
 However, he limited his proceedings to angry talk, 
 and the men carted home the turf. A few days after 
 this, Mr. Forbes came to my residence, and inquired 
 for me. I happened to be out, but returning within 
 a short space, I found the young man awaiting me in 
 the garden next the road. 
 
 He said he was come to complain of my cutting 
 turf witiiout asking his leave. I replied that I did 
 not conceive it at all necessary to ask leave every 
 time I required a few sods of turf; that Lady Gren- 
 ville had, many years ago, sent me her authority to 
 cut turves, sods, to take peat, sand, or gravel off the 
 common; that I 'had never abused tliis licence, but, 
 on the contrar}^, had taken very moderate advantage 
 of her permission in every respect; and that I did not 
 deem it my duty to send and ask leave to help myself 
 on every occasion which might arise. Mr. Forbes 
 rejoined that Lady Grenville was now resolved to 
 enforce strictly her manorial rights, and that " he 
 should fine me on her behalf for having committed a 
 trespass." I ansv.'ered that he had better try to fine 
 me, and that it might perhaps lead to a legal investi- 
 gation of her rights, which would be attended with 
 useful results. Mr. Forbes was civil, and nowise 
 wanting in respectful manners, and appeared to be 
 acting simply in conformity with instructions received 
 
THE HAMLET OE EAST BURNHAM. 175 
 
 from his principals. I beard nothing more from this 
 quarter, but was informed by a person whose authority 
 was undeniable, that Mr. Forbes was of late in the 
 habit of affirming " that Mrs. Grote now bought the 
 turf from him^ and thus acquiesced in the absolute 
 right of the Lady of the Manor over the soil." 
 
 Whilst Mr. Forbes was within my gates, on the 
 occasion above referred to, he passed into the stable- 
 yard, and looked into the wood-house. Seeing the 
 turves stacked up therein, he asked Howlett, my gar- 
 dener, "Whose turves are these?" '"Mine," replied 
 Howlett. " Ah! they are yours, are they? that's all 
 very well, but Mrs. Grote lias no right to any turves 
 for herself. Only the poor are allowed to have them." 
 
 On the gardener's reporting this conversation to 
 me, I blamed him for saying that the turves were his, 
 which was speaking wi'ongl}^ The turves were cut 
 for me, paid for by me, and carted home by my 
 people, and I used a portion of them for my green- 
 house stove-fire. Howlett, like all the common folk, 
 standing in fear of Lady Grenville's displeasure, had 
 said what he did in the amiable design of shielding 
 his mistress from it. 
 
 After this incident, which seemed to me to require 
 some notice, I conversed with more than one of the 
 inhabitant householders of East Burnham, in the view 
 of ascertaining the sentiments of the hamlet in re- 
 ference to the enlarged claims recently advanced on 
 the part of Lady Grenville over " the waste." I 
 found that but one feeling existed on the subject, 
 which was that of extreme dissatisfaction, and sense 
 of injustice towards the general interests of the resi- 
 dents, as attempted to be practised by Lady Gren- 
 
176 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 ville's steward. The cottagers complained also, that 
 carts belonging to persons living at a distance were 
 continually sent to carry away from the common 
 quantities of peat, sand, fallen leaves, and turf, by 
 permission of the steward. They specified several 
 parties, among whom were the Duchess of Sutherland, 
 Sir Richard Colt Hoare, Mr. Bragg and Mr. Brown 
 (both nurserymen, of Slough), and others. They 
 complained that these parties were allowed to benefit 
 by the common, although they contributed nothing to 
 the " i-ates," or to the maintenance of the roads, gates, 
 or fences in the Liberty, whilst one of them — being 
 ratepayers — could not take a single barrow-load 
 without going to Dropmore to ask leave. They felt, 
 in short, that Lady Grenville was seeking to establish 
 an absolute rather than a manorial property in the soil : 
 giving away the same out of the parish, in any quan- 
 tities she thought fit, and preventing any one but 
 herself from using the soil unless specially authorized 
 by herself. Coupling the information thus collected 
 with the evidence I had already obtained as to the 
 old usages and practice of the manor, I felt a certain 
 impulse to probe the case further, and to endeavour 
 to put Lad}^ Grenville on the necessity of proving 
 the right she claimed over the common and " waste." 
 I found, moreover, that a " court" had been held out 
 of the limits of the manor, that is, at her own farm 
 at Brookend; and that at this same court (held in 
 1857), though the jury was composed of persons en- 
 titled to be upon it, viz., occupiers of land in East 
 Burnham, the business was carried on within closed 
 doors. I have been informed tliat both these facts 
 were contrary to law, and would invalidate and 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 177 
 
 nullify any rule or orders passed at this same 
 court. 
 
 At a court held in 1855, in "The Crown" ale- 
 house, at East Burnham, Mr. Grote officiated as 
 foreman; two or three other occupiers of land in 
 " The Liberty" serving also as jurymen. Mr. Bowman 
 attended, as representative of Lady Grenville, and 
 opened the court in the customary manner. This, I 
 believe, was the last court held by Mr. Bowman for 
 and in the Hamlet and Liberty of East Burnham. 
 
 To return to my purpose of pressing this question 
 — so important to the humble inhabitants — I would 
 willingly have taken steps to this end, but I found 
 myself deterred by the fear of bringing down upon 
 their heads the vengeance of the steward. He had 
 latefy, it seems, explicitly given them to understand 
 that whoever moved in the matter, or furnished in- 
 formation tending to call in question Lady Grenville's 
 supremacy, should be immediately turned out of their 
 tenements. This menace had the effect of tying up 
 the tongues of all her tenants, and of inducing them 
 to wish that no farther " stir" should be made. The 
 whole of the inhabitants, it may be said, rented cot- 
 tages under Lady Grenville, with the exception of my 
 gardener, Mr. Ludlam's three tenants, " The Stag " 
 beer-house, and one or two cottages on the common 
 side. Under these considerations, knowing how 
 grievous a penalty the quitting a tenement would be 
 to any East Burnham resident, I was obliged to lay 
 aside whatever intention I had before cherished of 
 seeking to aid my poor neighbours in this matter: 
 and this brings my history to the close of the year 
 1857. 
 
 N 
 
178 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 It may be asked, why did I not make a direct ap- 
 peal to Lady Grenville in person and invite her to 
 state her own view of the respective rights in ques- 
 tion? The reason was, that Lady Grenville had 
 reached the age of eighty-four years; an age at 
 which it would have been indiscreet to attempt to 
 open up a discussion involving a variety of small 
 particulars, and relating to long bygone days, and 
 in which, moreover, she probably would have felt 
 disinclined to engao-e. 
 
 The situation in which the large estate of Lady 
 Grenville found itself at the period of which I have 
 been treating, is one not unfrequently exhibited in 
 England, but which is not only unfavourable to the 
 interest of the parishioners, and of those who are in 
 any way dependent upon the property, but is in a 
 minor degree inconvenient to all residents in its 
 vicinity. An aged landed proprietor, delegating her 
 authority over her lands and manors to persons of an 
 inferior station in life, who cannot take the same \dew 
 either of public interests or of the credit attaching 
 to the condition of a gentleman, as the proprietor 
 herself — such proprietor, I say, is often construed to 
 behave in a way which she would not sanction if she 
 were in full possession of her active faculties. 
 
 Thus it was with Lady Grenville. Her steward 
 not unfrequently acted on her behalf in a manner 
 to draw ujDon her most unpleasant animadversions; 
 among which instances I might adduce the affair of 
 the annual payment of 25/. out of the Huntercombe 
 estate for the use of the pooi' ; the upshot of which 
 was, to compel Lady Grenville, who liad resisted sucli 
 payment for years, to make it good, with arrears, to 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BUKNHAM. 179 
 
 the parish authorities, about the year 1852. I can- 
 not suppose that Lady Grenville would have sanc- 
 tioned the acts which produced so much ill-will in my 
 district, had she been informed of what was going 
 forward. On the few occasions when I have taken 
 the liberty of communicating directly with her Lady- 
 ship, she has always shown a polite readiness to for- 
 ward my wishes, and an obliging disposition. In the 
 matter of the water supply, for example : a few years 
 ago her steward repeatedly promised that repairs 
 should be made in the conduit pipes on which we 
 depended for our water. But month after month 
 passed over without even a move on his part, and I 
 had no resource but to address a remonstrance to 
 Lady Grenville herself She replied without delay, 
 in a business-like, courteous letter ; ordered the work 
 to be executed, and it was put in hand forthwith, at 
 her cost. This was in Mr. Bowman's time. 
 
 Of the young man who acted as subordinate 
 steward I never had any cause to complain per- 
 sonally. When I have represented to him any abuse 
 of the privileges of the inhabitants of the Liberty, he 
 has endeavoured to correct it, especially in the case 
 of the herds of hogs which latterly overran the Burn- 
 ham Beeches, rooting up (as I have stated) many 
 roods of turf in search of beech-mast and acorns, 
 befouling the pathways with their filth, and even 
 molesting timid people by their audacious, defiant 
 approach. Mr. Forbes did try to impound many 
 pigs which were found to be without rings ; but the 
 difficulty of driving them out of the woodland was 
 well-nigh insurmountable when once they had got in. 
 
 The origin of all this lay in the destruction of 
 
 N 2 
 
180 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 the eight or ten gates which formerly protected the 
 Liberty against intruding animals, many of which 
 were extant when 1 first came to East Burnham.* 
 Gates having sufficient latches or nooses would have 
 kept out all unauthorized pigs. It was the duty of 
 the ratepayers to compel the surveyor of the roads 
 to uphold these gates. But as the surveyors were 
 tenants of Lady Grenville, so were the ratepayers, 
 with hardly an exception. Accordingly, every item 
 of expenditure which could be evaded, was evaded; 
 Lady Grenville could have compelled the surveyor 
 to do his duty, for he held his farm as tenant at will. 
 The parish might have appointed a surveyor other 
 than one of Lady Grenville's tenants, it is true; but 
 there was only Mr. Grote who was eligible, as a rate- 
 payer of any consequence. He, however, naturally 
 shrank from this sort of trouble, being, moreover, 
 only an occasional resident in East Burnham; and 
 there remained no other individual at once eligible 
 and capable of discharging the office. 
 
 Thus the whole system under which the district 
 was administered revolved round Lady Grenville, 
 represented by a paid steward (living 300 miles 
 away in Cornwall), and he again by a young deputy, 
 instructed to keep down expenses above all, and to 
 maintain " rights." The poor were left without any- 
 body to care for them, except an occasional visit from 
 the curate, all trembling at the nod of " the steward;" 
 whilst the farmers, backed by this functionary, managed 
 the whole of the affiiirs of the hamlet between them. 
 The labouring people entertained an unpleasant feel- 
 
 * five of tliem were, certainly, perhaps more. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 181 
 
 ing towards the farmers, who, as they considered, 
 disregarded their interests, and discharged their men 
 at short notice wlienever it suited them. Some of 
 the farmers even gave no "harvest supper;" and I 
 am afraid it must be avowed that between these 
 classes no great friendhness subsisted. That the 
 men frequently gave their masters cause for dissatis- 
 faction there can be no doubt; still, as a body, I 
 really cannot rate the character of the husbandry la- 
 bourers of our hamlet at a low level, compared with 
 those of other districts of this county. " Drink," of 
 course, formed the leading vice of the class; but it 
 should be remembered that the working men in 
 general have no amusements (cricket, even, being 
 forbidden on Sundays, their only leisure day), and 
 that the gossip and chatter of the alehouse are the only 
 agreeable excitement which their ignorant minds 
 receive, from one year's end to another."* 
 
 I may say, for my own part, that whatever kind- 
 ness, and care, and good offices, I bestowed upon my 
 
 * For several years after I first settled in East Burnham, cricket 
 ■was regularly played durinjr the summer on Sunday afternoons, by 
 all the men and lads of the vicinity. The common, indeed, pre- 
 sented a lively and pleasing aspect, dotted with parties of cheerful 
 lookers-on, vrith many women and children and old persons, among 
 whom we ourselves, and our servants, not unfrequently mingled. 
 But about the year 1842 — 3, some boys of our hamlet, having 
 been taken up and carried before the Beaconsfield Bench, for play- 
 ing cricket on a Sunday, and fined "fifteen shillings each, or six 
 weeks of Aylesbury gaol," the practice of playing cricket was effec- 
 tually checked in East Burnham. The young men and boys, 
 having thenceforth no recreative pastime, spent their afternoons in 
 the beershops, or played at skittles in public-houses, or prowled 
 about the lanes looking for birds'-nests, game-haunts, hare "runs," 
 and the like ; while the common was left lonely and empty of 
 loungers. 
 
182 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 humble neighbours, during the period of my residence 
 among them, was gratefully felt; that they bore me 
 unfeigned respect, and would, I think, have repaid my 
 interest in them by any services in their power to 
 render me. 
 
 When I quitted the cottage in the Park, never 
 more to return to it, the cottager women were prone 
 to exclaim, " Ah ! there will be no one left to care 
 for us when ' Madam' is gone !" 
 
 I disposed of my little property, called (by cour- 
 tesy) East Burnham Park, in the spring of 1858, 
 after having resided in the hamlet — with one short 
 interval — for twenty years. 
 
 The oft-recurring vexations incident to the position 
 I occupied — viz., that of a lady residing in the centre 
 of a population dominated by a young servant, armed 
 with the authority of the owner of all the land, 
 manorial privileges, and cottages (nearly all) in my 
 district : from whose arl)itrary control no appeal could 
 be made, on account of Lady Grenville's advanced 
 age; — these oft-recurring vexations, I confess, made 
 me feel, latterly, uncomfortable. Being of a temper 
 liable to fret under the spectacle of wrong-doing, 
 without having the smallest power to prevent it; the 
 invariable opposition offered by Lady Grenville's 
 Steward to my endeavours to effect measures of 
 public utility — the grievous neglect of the highways 
 precluding me from taking walking exercise in winter, 
 and the advance of years rendering me less disposed 
 to exert myself, as formerly, in behalf of the general 
 welfare of the place, — all this concurred to make me 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 183 
 
 resolve to retire from the neiofhbourliood : at the same 
 time, I retain a sincere interest in the prosperity and 
 well-doing of the inhabitants, among whom so large a 
 portion of my life has been spent. 
 
 A feeling naturally suggests itself, after learning 
 the circumstances which have been here related 
 (concerning an obscure fraction of rural life in an 
 agricultural province of England), that surely some 
 remedy ought to have been available for the evils 
 set forth ! I am afraid there was none. 
 
 Mr. Eyre was eighty years old when he died. 
 
 Mr. Sayer, or " Captain Saver," as he was styled, 
 was unmarried, had infirm health, and led a secluded 
 life: letting everything "go its own way" till his 
 death, also at an advanced age. 
 
 Captain Popple latterly grew full of years, and 
 having only a life-interest in the estates, he, in his 
 turn, cared mighty little about keeping them in 
 order. Thus, for forty years and more, the duties of 
 administration, in regard to this large property, were 
 neglected; mainly owing to the incapacity and indif- 
 ference of its two last possessors. Then comes Lady 
 Grenville, winding up the list with a hireling superin- 
 tendence, and a nominal government,* resembling 
 that of Irish " absentees" under the old regime. 
 
 Among the numerous blessings attending on free 
 institutions in a country, some defects naturally co- 
 exist. An unbounded control over land or house 
 property possessed by individuals, leads to equally 
 
 * The responsible " deputy" living at the " Land's End." 
 
181 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 unbounded power over those persons who occupy and 
 rent such : often comprising the whole, or nearly the 
 whole, pojjulation of a district. When the proprietor 
 devotes his (or her) attention to the general direction 
 of affairs on their estate, both the tenantry and the 
 neighbours have usually reason to be content ; but 
 when a proprietor is obliged to entrust such super- 
 intendence to servants, and is unable or indisposed 
 to listen to complaints of mismanagement, then the 
 general Avelfare of the estate usually suffers. Parish 
 authorities may in certain cases offer resistance. 
 Burnham parish actually did so in the year 1836, 
 when they went to law with Lady Grenville, carried 
 it against her at the assizes, and obliged her to repair 
 a certain roadway near her residence. Nevertheless, 
 since parish officers in rural districts are commonly 
 composed of occupiers and cultivators of land, for 
 the most part " rented ;" so their interest leads them, 
 as a general rule, to pa}^ obedience to the Avill of the 
 owners of property in their neighbourhood: The 
 Liberty of East Burnham was not, I regret to sa}^, 
 under the general administration of the parish. It 
 paid its own rates, contributing nothing to the high- 
 way rate of Burnham Parish. Its officers, accord- 
 ingly, were of necessity occupiers of land within tlie 
 Liberty. In point of fact, Lady Grenville stood in a 
 relation all but seignorial^ or feudal, to the Hamlet and 
 District of East Burnham.* 
 
 There is at present no help for such a state of things. 
 But a time must and will come, as society becomes 
 
 * So did tlie former " Lords," only that these resided amoDg, and 
 cared for their " vassals." 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 185 
 
 more exio-ent as to " risflits" and " duties," when 
 owners of real property shall be brought under some 
 kind of legislative control, so far as regards the public 
 interest. Acts of Parliament will ere long, I expect, 
 establish authority to quicken the activity of rural 
 functionaries on matters involving health, conveni- 
 ence, morality, and decency in village communities; 
 and although I myself regard the principle of " cen- 
 tralization" with anything but favour, yet I cannot 
 but think it must sooner or later be invoked, if 
 English landlords will not arouse themselves to a 
 more conscientious discharge of their social obliga- 
 tions. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Among the most salient points of difference which 
 are traceable between the former and the more recent 
 condition of East Burnham, is to be noted the 
 lessened reliance of the poor upon their richer neigh- 
 bours. I entertain little doubt that, formerly, the 
 opulent occupants in East Burnham not only bestowed 
 largely of their abundance upon the labouring people, 
 but that the relations between these two classes were 
 both familiar and kindly, as was the case in bygone days 
 in most country places. Yet I am by no means sure 
 that the cottagers are less well off now than they were 
 formerly. In fact, the comfort of the labouring man 
 is better attended to in many ways at the present 
 time;* and, 'bating the difficulty of obtaining good 
 
 * The parochial provision for medical attendance, since 1835, counts 
 for much in the present condition of the poor/ 
 
186 SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 beer to drink, perhaps his material condition is 
 higher in most respects. I should say that the thing 
 to be regretted is, the absence of the ties of social 
 contact between rich and poor,* which absence has 
 led to a bad state of feeling in the minds of the latter, 
 and has fostered a jealous mistrust on their parts of 
 the class above them. But again, I say, for this I can 
 see no remedy. The beneficent dispositions of the 
 smaller gentry can operate to but little advantage 
 amongst the poor, beyond the mere temporary increase 
 of their comfort. To influence the labouring class, 
 you ought to have the power to raise their moral 
 condition, to improve their habits, to encourage rea- 
 sonable requests, to show them a kindly interest, 
 and to foster justice between labourers and their 
 masters; all which the possession of landed pro- 
 perty enables you to do, if the Will exist. But so 
 long as the poor feel the pressure of property pri- 
 vileges, unaccompanied by compensating benefits, no 
 efforts on the part of individuals can alter their mode 
 of viewing the relations between themselves and the 
 rich. What that mode is, most residents in rm-al 
 districts can tell; but it varies according to the 
 character of the " Lords of the soil," by which the 
 behaviour of poor residents is more influenced than it 
 is often conceived to be. 
 
 I forbear, however, to open up a question, the bear- 
 ings of which are too wide-spread to be considered 
 here. Every half-century brings Avith it some modi- 
 fication of the framework in which society is encased, 
 
 * Mainly owing to the circumstance of there being no resident owner 
 possessing the power of which I speak below. 
 
THE HAMLET OF EAST BURNHAM. 187 
 
 and we ouglit to endeavour both to preserve unim- 
 paired such portions as are fitted to all times, and to 
 adapt our changes, as far as possible, to the immu- 
 table principles on which human society is based. And 
 perhaps the most important of these is, the mainte- 
 nance of a cordial amity between the employers of 
 labour and the labourers themselves. I have a 
 sincere value for the character of our husbandry 
 labourer, and believe that, under ordinary good treat- 
 ment, he fulfils his duty with conscience, and even 
 zeal for his master's interest. Moreover, he is sensible 
 to acts of kindness and sympathy in a greater degree 
 than it is usual to give him credit for — more so, in 
 fact, than to acts of charity, in the common accepta- 
 tion of that word. 
 
ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 This vast theme, to the illustration of which the 
 finest intellects and the most assiduous study have 
 been for ages directed, can hardly be approached 
 without temerity by an amateur, whose knowledge 
 must be, necessarilj^ superficial and incomplete, com- 
 pared with that possessed by professional students. 
 As, however, I have been invited to aid in weaving 
 a "garland" of literary leaves, destined to be laid at 
 the feet of our illustrious sovereign, I will do my best 
 to justify the compliment. 
 
 Whilst renouncing the pretension to offer any novel 
 or striking views on the subject, I propose to take a 
 short survey of the comparative position occupied by 
 the arts, and of the character imparted to them by 
 cotemporary influences, at different stages of the 
 history of mankind. 
 
 That the function of art is to act upon the imagina- 
 tion through the senses, is a proposition familiar to 
 all of us. The precise form, however, in which this 
 action shall exert itself must depend upon the state 
 in which the popular imagination of the period 
 happens to be. In an early stage of social de- 
 velopment the prevalent ideas are few, simple, and 
 deep-seated. The ancient architecture of the world 
 accordingly combines grandeur and simplicity with 
 
192 ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 perfect adaptation to its ends. In pictorial efforts 
 the primitive features of interest ever present in early 
 societies constitute the subjects; as war, hunting, and 
 pompous ceremonials. In proportion as the course of 
 Imman thought advances, subjects multiply. The 
 introduction of female figures attests a certain im- 
 provement in the social habits. Farther on, a concep- 
 tion of grace united with strength is engendered by 
 the habitual contemplation of the unclothed human 
 body; and the portrayal of this, under diversified 
 action, comes to be regarded with pleasure. It was 
 among the small Greek communities that this power 
 of producing, in marble and on canvas, examples of 
 the finest forms of both sexes reached its climax. An 
 attentive study on the part of their artists of the 
 living beauty and symmetry continually present to 
 their eye, was of incalculable importance in the culture 
 and practice of imitative art. To this they super- 
 added the closest devotion to the technical branch of 
 their art; the " treatment," the disposition of drapery, 
 the composition and character of their figures. The 
 minute study of external configuration did, in fact, 
 with the Greek sculptors, supply the absence of ana- 
 tomical science; and it may admit of a question 
 whether a knowledge of this would have enhanced 
 the effect or the accuracy of their delineations; sucli 
 was the familiarity of their eye with the situation and 
 functions of the muscles, and with the mutual rela- 
 tions of the osseous structure. The sources from 
 whence we derive our widest acquaintance with the 
 pictorial gemus of the ancient Greeks, are their vessels 
 of earthenware, to which may be added a small 
 number of fresco paintings. In the urns and vases, 
 
ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 193 
 
 of which innumerable specimens are to be found in 
 public collections, and many in private dwellings, tlie 
 subjects almost exclusively consist of men, women, 
 and animals, of which endless groups are arranged, 
 illustrative of habits, manners, and, sometimes even, 
 of passions; not unfrequently the mythology of tlio 
 heathen world furnislies the matter of the composition, 
 and nothmg can surpass the charm which is present 
 in these poetical representations when executed by 
 the best artists of the period. 
 
 In the relics of ancient Greece, then, are to be 
 found the highest examples of that branch of art which 
 is devoted to the human form and its attributes. 
 That nations, sprung into existence since that time, 
 have reached considerable excellence in art, is indis- 
 putable ; but not one has arrived at equal mastery 
 with the Greeks, in the creative vein of sculpture. 
 To enter upon a speculative disquisition, as to the 
 causes which gave rise to this acknowledged supre- 
 macy, would be a task too comprehensive for tlie 
 present occasion. If I may be permitted to express 
 an opinion, it is that the two main sources whence 
 this supremacy took its rise, were — 1. The peculiar 
 cast of the Greek mind, demanding, as it did, to be 
 occupied with the study of man, to the exclusion of 
 the rest of creation, and thus craving, at the hands of 
 art ministers, exhibitions of the human effigy under 
 interesting aspects, suggestive of some dominant 
 sentiment, Avhether heroic, religious, or amorous; and, 
 2. The advantages enjoyed by the artists of constant, 
 familiar observation of the nude figure, whether under 
 the excitement of active games or in the varied atti- 
 tudes of repose and recreation. 
 
 o 
 
194 ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 The Greeks, it must be remarked, took no delight 
 in contemplating the beauty of the external world, 
 or in what is commonly termed the " Poetry of 
 Nature." Man, in his corporeal and physical aspects, 
 and Man, as a social and intellectual being, seem 
 to have absorbed the attention of artist, dramatist, 
 and thinker respectively, among that remarkable 
 people. 
 
 Under the Roman dominion, the character of tlie 
 arts of sculpture and painting lost much of their 
 dignity, becoming subservient to the degraded tastes 
 and corrupted manners which prevailed among that 
 people. When, in the fourth century, tlie pro- 
 tection of the Roman Emperor was accorded 
 to the Christian form of worship, the artists from 
 various quarters who flocked to the new capital, 
 Byzantium, shared the patronage of the Pagan witli 
 that of the Christian world; so that, for some con- 
 siderable time, a mixed style of art obtained the 
 ascendancy : blending the still extant, though impure, 
 types of Grecian civilization with the Oriental style 
 of treatment; and pictures and frescoes abounded, 
 blazing with colour and glittering with meretricious, 
 and even with metallic, ornament. 
 
 After the sixth century, the gradual increase and 
 spread of Christianity enabled its professors to substi- 
 tute paintings illustrative of their own sacred origin 
 and history for the representations of subjects familiar 
 to the older world. Such few vestio-es as remain to 
 us of these primitive efforts are, of course, injured 
 and defaced; but, viewed as paintings, they could 
 never have been other than barbarous productions. 
 Passing over the feejjle endeavours made during the 
 
ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 195 
 
 dark ages to keep alive the embers of art, as serving 
 both to kindle and to propagate the religious senti- 
 ment, we find so early as the eleventh, and notably in 
 the twelfth century, a marked progress, of which the 
 Church was naturally the chief promoter, in the form 
 and character of Christian, or Pure Art.* 
 
 The subjects on which the painters of this period 
 occupied their skill, partook of the religious feeling 
 to an almost exclusive degree. And this concentra- 
 tion of the powers of the pencil on one vein of senti- 
 ment, produced in these works a simplicity of design, 
 and profound devotional expression, together with a 
 certain naivete of composition. Qualities which have 
 always commanded the homage of connoisseurs, 
 although not generally attractive to the unlearned. 
 
 Through successive phases,' such as an inquiring- 
 student mil find no difficulty in tracing from 
 Cimabue onwards, the capacity for expressing deep 
 sentiment gradually allied itself with an improved 
 faculty of composition and skill of hand, until the 
 Umbrian and Florentine painters carried this divine 
 art to a point of perfection never since attained ; their 
 works having continued to be regarded as models of 
 excellence, with admiration and emulous imitation, by 
 each successive age. 
 
 * In a work on Italian art, recently published in Paris, the author, 
 M. Charles Clement, mentions, as bein^^ among the most striking efforts 
 of the eleventh century, some of the mural pictures in mosaic work, 
 especially those of Sicily and Venice : — " Ces gigantesques figures a 
 demi barbares, dessinees sans ai-t, qui n'ont ni modele ni perspective, 
 placees contre les parois, et dans le fond de vastes edifices obscurs, les 
 remplissent de leur presence. Elles resplendissent, sur leur fond d'or, 
 d'uu eclat mysterieux et terrible ; et si le but de I'art religieux est de 
 frapper vivement I'imagination, je ne pense pas qu'il I'ait jamais plus 
 completement attieut que dans les mosaiques," 
 
 o2 
 
196 ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 Although 23ainters of unquestionable genius and 
 Avide-spread fame continued to enrich European 
 edifices and £>-alleries durins: a considerable number of 
 years, it is generally admitted that Italian art, after 
 the sixteenth century, underwent a gradual decline; 
 insomuch that the glories of the pencil and the 
 chisel were, in the seventeenth, assigned to other 
 lands. 
 
 The sculptors of Germany, and the painters of the 
 Low Countries, together with a few eminent masters 
 among the French, took a prominent lead in their 
 respective departments, producing works which con- 
 tinue to enjoy a deservedly high repute to this day. 
 And it is easy to understand how that the arts, no 
 longer exclusively devoted to the sustentation of 
 religious faith, but encouraged by the laity with 
 liberal hand, broke into a variety of channels — 
 secular, historical, voluptuous, arcliitcctural, festal, 
 and the like. Landscape painting, too, assumed a 
 more important character, and began to display the 
 charm and captivation of which it is avowedly capable. 
 Thus, the increase of wealth, the multiplication of 
 objects of curiosity, and of means of enjoyment, con- 
 tributed to diversify the productions of art, and to 
 engender new styles; at the same time, by tliis active 
 movement, the earnest, meditative compositions of the 
 early painters became much less sought after. Tlie 
 tone of the period was changed. 
 
 During the eighteenth century no country Avould 
 seem to have produced better painters than the 
 British; our native artists maintaining a creditable 
 position in that walk of art, though the sculptors of 
 the Continent were confessedly superior to our own, 
 
ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 197 
 
 and, I am afraid, continue to be so. The works pro- 
 duced in the latter portion of the century seem to rise, 
 rather than decline, in public estimation, especially in 
 respect to portraits, a branch of art in which the 
 moderns scarcely reach the standard of their pre- 
 decessors. However, the rich products of the easel 
 in the nineteenth century surpass, in most other 
 respects, those of the previous period. Stimulated by 
 the growing appetite of the community for art, accom- 
 panied by an extraordinary increase of the purchasing 
 power, the painter of modern days has invented new 
 methods, employed the science of chemistry to improve 
 his colours, and cultivated fresh fields in choosing 
 his subjects. The foreign schools have like- 
 wise developed considerable activity, and many of 
 their professors exhibit a dexterity of handling, a 
 correctness of drawing, and a finish which command 
 unqualified admiration. Yet, with these painters, as 
 with us, high art is in some sort eclipsed by general 
 subjects and, especially amongst the French, by such 
 as are connected wdth battles and victories. 
 
 As to the predominant taste of the English in 
 matters of art, it would puzzle the most attentive 
 observer to characterize it suitably; so multiform are 
 the fruits of the pencil in our day. I will venture, 
 nevertheless, to employ one epithet, (which indeed 
 seems applicable to modern feeling in general,) and 
 say that it inclines to the realistic in art. Even in 
 pictures of a religious class, we may observe how far 
 this element has superseded the ideal and the pathetic. 
 Pious ecstasies, eloquent agonies, are no longer in 
 demand; the sober Protestant form of faith, conjoined 
 with amiable and homely forms of sympathy — 
 
198 ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 domestic incidents and every-day interests — such arc 
 the subjects which command the attention and ensure 
 the gaze of " the multitude," rich and poor, of our 
 time. And these predominate through the range of 
 modern artistic productions, reflecting indeed very 
 correctly the tone in which popular serial litera- 
 ture has, for some ten or twenty years back, been 
 composed. 
 
 " The applause of the exquisite few," said Wilkie, 
 in one of his published letters, " is better than that of 
 the ignorant many. But I like to reverse received 
 maxims. Give me the many who have admired, in 
 different ages, RaiFaelle and Claude." On which 
 passage, Mr. Leslie, in his own memoirs, published in 
 1860, comments thus: — " But have the many^ in any 
 age, admired RafFaelle and Claude? I certainly 
 believe not." . . . And again, Leslie remarks that, 
 " Wilkie's works were popular from the first, because 
 the public could understand his subjects, and natural 
 expression is always responded to. But the beauty of 
 his composition, the truth of his ' effects,'' the taste of 
 his execution, were no more felt by the multitude 
 than such qualities are felt in any class of painting, by 
 any but those Avhose perceptions of art arc cultivated. 
 . . . An artist must belong to the multitude to 
 please the multitude." 
 
 In these remarks I own I am disposed to concur, 
 whilst guarding myself against being supposed to dis- 
 parage the taste of "the multitude." It is certahily 
 a most pleasing circumstance that so large a portion 
 of our countrymen and countrywomen should indulge 
 a liking for art. Nevertheless, a faculty of nicely 
 discriminating between true and false greatness in 
 
ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 199 
 
 painters can only, in my judgment, be exercised by a 
 comparatively small class amongst us — composed of 
 individuals who possess leisure, opportunities of travel 
 and of study, aptitude for observation and comparison, 
 and a natural disposition to derive enjoyment from the 
 contemplation of objects of art. On them the duty 
 rests of upholding the eternal principles on which true 
 art is based. English amateurs — from Royalty 
 downwards to the merchant — have always fostered 
 the arts; not alone encourao-ino; livini? artists, but 
 coming forward, with alacrity, to possess themselves 
 of really valuable specimens of bygone times, when 
 offered, at intervals, in the market. And the English 
 Government also displays unremitting zeal in the 
 acquisition of works calculated to encourage the 
 public to interest themselves in the higher excellences 
 of painting. It would be matter of real gratification 
 to feel that these could be exemplified in the perform- 
 ances of modern professors. Let us hope that such 
 will be forthcoming at no distant day. 
 
 The very narrow space into which it has been 
 requisite to compress this sketch, precludes the 
 addition of farther remarks suggested by the actual 
 condition of art, and the influence of opinion bearing 
 upon it in this country. I must content myself with 
 saying that if, indeed, " the many," now form the bulk 
 of the purchasing class, and bestow the widest fame 
 upon professors of art, it may safely be added that 
 never were " the many " so well served as now. For 
 every variety of taste, a painter brings the supply; 
 (often, indeed, creating it ;) yet the teeming abundance 
 of artistic talent — diffusing itself, as it docs, along 
 countless channels, and offering meritorious and 
 
200 ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 
 
 attractive works in all styles, — seems destined, in 
 some degree, to supplant the cnltivation of the 
 noble and elevated type. If each period of liistory 
 bears its characteristic stamp, surely in none has 
 the impress of contemporary feeling and thought 
 been more discernible than in the art, and I must 
 jDcrmit mj^self to add, the literature of fiction, of our 
 own era. 
 
 It may be fairly presumed, I think, that the impor- 
 tant step taken in a high quarter, within these few 
 years, to improve the means of art education among 
 the people, was owing to a perception of the tendencies 
 above indicated. To furnish to the humble youthful 
 student, gratuitously, assistance in forming a taste for 
 the higher attributes of art, and, next, in carrying 
 even into the material products of the country some 
 traces of their refining influence, was, indeed, a 
 project dictated by a discerning comprehension of the 
 value of sound elementary study. The foundation of 
 the South Kensington Museum, due in great part to 
 the Prince Consort's agency, may, it is to be hoped, 
 operate as a counterpoise to the causes which for some 
 considerable period would seem to have modified and, 
 in a measure, vulgarized the character of British Art. 
 That relish for striking eftect, both of colour and 
 expression, for exquisitely high-wrought finish, and 
 for melo-dramatic composition, which now pervades 
 the community, may possibly be one day superseded 
 by a preference for loftier qualities in painting. 
 Should such a change arrive, we may safely ascribe 
 much of it to the salutary, the instructive, study of 
 the masterpieces of all kinds and all countries, ancient 
 and modern, which are to be seen in our principal 
 
ON ART, ANCIENT AND MODERN. 201 
 
 national depositories: accompanied and seconded by 
 the lessons of competent professors under the direction 
 of the managers of the Kensington Museum, working 
 in harmony witli the great schools of the Royal 
 Academy. 
 
 August, 1861. 
 
 \_Beprintedfi'om ike " Victoria Heffia."] 
 
VARIOUS PAPERS 
 
 CONTBIBUTED TO THE 
 
 SPECTATOR" WEEKLY iNEWSPAPER. 
 
 1845—1852. 
 
POMMERSFELDEN. 
 
 Coblentz, September, 1845. 
 I WANT to tell you ul3out Pommersfelden, a place I 
 alluded to on a recent occasion ; and which is not 
 one of the " King of Bohemia's seven castles," but 
 one amono^ several real chateaux belono;ino; to the 
 noble family of Schonborn, — a name widely reputed 
 in Bavaria, or, to speak more precisely, in old Fran- 
 conia, where it is situate. 
 
 About seven or eight English miles out of the main 
 road leading from Wurtzburg to Bamberg, and in a 
 direct line between the last-named city and Neustadt, 
 there stands a vast and imposing edifice, built about 
 the commencement of the last century by Lothair 
 Francis, Count Schonborn, Bishop of Bamberg, and 
 Archbishop of Mainz, Chancellor of the German 
 Empire, and Lord knows what beside; who, in addi- 
 tion to the princely revenues derived from these 
 high offices, inlieritcd the estates of Pommersfelden 
 from a Count Truchsess, his kinsman, on the death of 
 this nobleman in 1710. Lothair Francis was a man 
 of remarkable abilities, and enjoyed a high reputation 
 as a statesman, jurist, and patron of the arts; with 
 which he was himself extremely well acquainted, 
 especially with architecture. Desiring to apply a 
 portion of his wealth to the erection of a palace, or 
 " schloss," suited to the dignity of his family, of Avhich 
 he found himself the leadinof member — a monument 
 
206 POMMERSFELDEN. 
 
 that should honour the memory of liis generous kins- 
 man, he commenced this undertaking, in 1711, after 
 the design of Loyson, a Jesuit, doctor and professor 
 of philosophy, and Chancellor of the University of 
 Bamberg, an eminent dilettante of the period. The 
 style of architecture employed is of the character 
 which was then coming into vogue, and which had 
 recently been mtroduced by Louis the Fourteenth in 
 building his palace of Versailles. The plan of the 
 edifice may be described as that of the letter E. In 
 the hollow of the centre is placed the magnificent 
 entrance-hall and staircase, which for lofty propor- 
 tions and elegance of design may challenge any vesti- 
 bule in Europe. The size of this truly regal residence 
 may be guessed at when I mention that we passed 
 through four large rooms occupying a part of the 
 principal floor on the Northern front (the other part 
 being appropriated to the library) — making, I should 
 say, one hundred feet in length — and next, through 
 twelve rooms on the West front, one of which was a 
 splendid banquet " salle," floored with marble, forty 
 feet high, and not less than sixty feet long. To add 
 that there is a chapel attached to the " schloss," were 
 needless, Franz Lothair being an ecclesiastic of the 
 hio-hest rank. But the circumstance of its contain- 
 ing a valuable collection of pictures constitutes the 
 prominent attraction of Ponunersfelden ; and it is to 
 this I wish to invite your attention. 
 
 The palace once built, its distinguished possessor 
 bent his endeavours to the acquisition of a gallery of 
 paintings fitted to adorn its interior, as well as of a 
 jTood collection of books. Lothair Franz was on fami- 
 liar terms with the eniinent artists of his times ; and, 
 
POMMERSFELDEN. 207 
 
 by his own discernini^ jiidgment, as well as by the 
 able assistance of his " hofmaler" or court painter 
 (in fact, he had two in his pay, Byss and Cossian)^ he 
 speedily got hold of a considerable number of pre- 
 cious works, — chiefly, however, of the Flemish school, 
 in which our Prince-Bishop especially delighted. Herr 
 Heller, of Bamberg, in his interesting little notice of 
 this chateau, published quite recently, states the 
 number to have been 480, as early as the year 1719. 
 The heirs and successors of Lothair pursuing the 
 design of enriching the gallery with choice pictures, 
 it became, towards the middle of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, amply stored ; and critical catalogues and notices 
 upon it began to be published by the connoisseurs of 
 that period. In 1759, the invasion of Franconia by 
 the Prussian troops engaged in the Seven Years' 
 War, occasioned the pictures to be hurried off to a 
 place of safety; and again in 1802, when the French 
 overran this country, the treasures of Pommersfelden 
 were a second time drasffred across the heart of Ger- 
 many to another and distant residence of the Counts 
 Schonborn, in Bohemia, there to abide the course of 
 events. When they were finally replaced in their 
 Avonted positions, a regular keeper was installed to 
 watch over them, named Joseph Dorn ; who lived 
 into the year 1841. 
 
 Although, as has been said above, the collection is 
 more richly furnished with Flemish works than with 
 the productions of the Italian masters, yet are there 
 mnny of the latter to be found here which may fairly 
 be classed as superior pictures. Of these, the leading 
 specimen is a painting by Leonardo da Yinci (long 
 attributed to Bafaelle, however, and by Byss, among 
 
208 POMMERSFELDEN. 
 
 the rest), of the Virgin and Child, than which I have 
 seldom seen a more charming production. The 
 Virgin, whose left hand and arm hang over a pedestal, 
 is exquisitely painted; her right arm encircles the 
 babe, who is sitting in her lap, and pointing to a vase 
 or urn in the background. I should not wonder if 
 this picture alone were found to be worth from one 
 to two thousand guineas. It is of the size of life, 
 and three-quarter length. It has undergone some 
 injury by being carried to Munich, to serve as a 
 model for the students in painting there: the journey 
 has damaged the impasto in places, and this has been 
 repaired somewhat unskilfully, — a sad return for the 
 generous proprietor's kindness in allowing this valu- 
 able picture to go to Munich. A naked Venus, by 
 Titian, is perhaps next in point of merit to the 
 Leonardo; whilst a portrait of a young officer in 
 armour, by the same master, near it, challenges the 
 warmest admiration. A Carlo Dolce (Mater Dolo- 
 rosa, according to the received pattern of this 
 painter) is of very high quality, perhaps equal to 
 Sir Thomas Baring's. A Magdalen, by Guido, iti his 
 brown manner, is rich in coloui*, but voluptuous in 
 character; an Assumption, by Giovanni Bellini, is inte- 
 resting, though not in the artist's best style ; a large 
 allegorical piece by Paul Veronese; a St. Sebastian, 
 by Carlo Dolce (of a truly celestial expression); 
 Tobias and the Angel, by Murillo; Isaac blessing 
 Jacob, by Annibal] Carracci; and several subjects by 
 Tintoretto, Spagnoletto, and Domenichino, are all 
 more or less Avorthy of honourable mention. In 
 passing to a description of the chefs d'ijouvre of the 
 other schools of art, I am apprehensive of falling into 
 
POMMERSFELDEN. 209 
 
 superlatives: so perfect, so matchless are many of 
 the pictures, that you get into a fever of admiration 
 as each gem occupies your eager attention by turns. 
 Where shall I begin? — with the Vandycks? — but the 
 Kembrandts — yes, the Rembrandts! what a feast 
 had we in his " Saul gazing upon the Shade of 
 Samuel evoked by the Witch of Endor." Tlie 
 language of praise is pale in presence of such a 
 masterpiece — I dare not attempt to use it, but must 
 content myself with saying that the picture is in the 
 finest condition; about three feet high; and the figures 
 larger than common in Kembrandt's compositions. 
 But the glorious colouring and effects of torch-light — 
 ah me ! There are several Rembrandts besides this, 
 two of which are of high merit, — viz., an old woman 
 reading at a large open book, called the Prophetess 
 Johanna ; and a man sitting in an easy-chair : there 
 is also a Dutch baker blowing his horn at his shop- 
 door, an excellent work. By Eubens, a Christ on 
 the Cross, in his finest manner, about two feet and a 
 lialfhigh; a magnificent composition called Charity, 
 with four lusty naked boys — a large canvas, the 
 flesh incomparably fine; a St. Francis, vigorously 
 painted, life size; a lady seated, a whole-length 
 figure — capital; an Entombment; David playing 
 upon the Harp. But I must here pause. More 
 remains to be told of the rarities I beheld in this 
 palatial residence; but they must form the subject of 
 a future letter. So prepare for fresh rhapsodies on 
 the part of your humble servant and subscriber. 
 
CHARACTEE OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 March 10, 1845. 
 
 The comment on the Reverend Sydney Smith's 
 character and writings, which appeared in the Spec- 
 tator of 1st March, struck me as being at once accu- 
 rate and discriminating, in so far as it took a view of 
 l)oth, such as a thoughtful observer of his times might 
 well arrive at, having no personal feeling towards or 
 even private acquaintance with the eminent divine 
 lately lost to the world. But those who enjoyed the 
 privilege of private intercourse with this remarkable 
 man must feel that quite as much remains to be said 
 of him under that aspect ; and I venture to speak as 
 one of them, although admitted within the circle of 
 his familiar associates only during the latter years 
 of his life, when, of course his beams must have been 
 shorn of a part of their former splendour. Still, the 
 setting glories of Sydney Smith were more brilliant 
 than most other men's meridian rays. 
 
 In the varied flow of his conversational powers, the 
 point of his playful satire, and the force and vivacity 
 of his illustrations, few, if any, have ever approached 
 him : added to these, there was a natural buoyancy 
 of temper, and genial aptitude for mirth and for the 
 enjoyment of society, Avhich had so exhilarating an 
 effect on those around him that no one ever felt reluc- 
 tant to be made the subject of his pleasantry. His 
 attacks were indeed like summer lightning — they 
 never harmed the object illumined by their flasli. 
 
CHARACTER OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 211 
 
 But not in the convivial hour alone was Sydney 
 Smith qualified to bear a leading part. In tempe- 
 rate and philosophic discussion — on topics embracing 
 the substantial interests of the human race — on ethical 
 questions — he was luminous in his remarks, large and 
 liberal-minded, and even patient of contradiction. In 
 fact, he had read much, and always with the sincerest 
 desire to arrive at truth ; and if he lacked that quality 
 of intellect which is capable of imparting original 
 views on profound subjects, no man was ever more 
 successful in possessing himself of the results of other 
 men's thoughts, and in diffusing them in a form suited 
 to the apprehension of ordinary readers. A distin- 
 guished scholar now living, writing of Sydney Smith 
 to a friend in 1840, observes — " Ridicule seems to me 
 to be admirably fitted to confound fools, and to 
 destroy their prejudices. It is not needed in order to 
 recommend truth to wise men ; and indeed, from its 
 generally dealing in exaggeration and slight misre- 
 presentation, is likely to offend them. It is his 
 mastery of ridicule which renders Sydney Smith so 
 powerful as a diff user of ideas ; for in order to diffuse 
 widely, it is necessary to be able to address fools. 
 His powers as a diffuser^ as compared with the powers 
 of a great inventor^ who was latterly altogether want- 
 ing in the diffusing power, are well shown in his 
 article on Bentham's Booh of Fallacies. Indeed, as a 
 diffuser of the good ideas of other men, I do not 
 know whether he ever had an equal." 
 
 When the imaginative faculty was in question, 
 however, Sydney Smith was creative and original 
 enough, God knows. When in good spirits, the 
 exuberance of his fancy showed itself in the most fan- 
 
212 CHARACTER OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 tastic images and most ingenious absurdities, till bis 
 bearers and bimself were at times fatigued with tlie 
 merriment tbey excited. He bad tbe art, too, of 
 divesting personalities of vulgarity; and not unfre- 
 quently was tbe luckless victim of bis wit seen to 
 enjoy tbe exercise of it quite as mucb as others. In 
 fact, many persons rather felt it as a compliment 
 when Sydney singled them out for sport. And he 
 was so universal in bis sympathies, that he did not 
 require a select or distinguished circle in order to be 
 incited to display. His rich resources flowed so freely 
 forth, that I have beard some of his happiest inspira- 
 tions uttered to persons of comparatively bumble pre- 
 tensions either to intelligence or fashion. Tbe pre- 
 sence of men and women — so tbey were but of the 
 educated class — always unlocked his sympathies, and 
 be expanded without difliculty as without vanity. Not 
 that he was insensible to the value of choice society — 
 none knew better how to prize and enjoy it. But 
 be bad such a store of kindly benevolence in his 
 heart, that he liked to contribute to the happiness of 
 whomsoever be found bimself in company with. 
 Nobody too obscure, in fact, for Sydney to put into 
 good humour with themselves. Nay, I have seen 
 him brighten the countenance of bis poor parish- 
 ioners, for tbe day, by a captivating phrase or two, 
 when be met them, or visited their cottage in quality 
 of " doctor," as he was wont to do at Combe Florey.* 
 
 * On one occasion, his parish-clerk being laid up with a broken shin, 
 Sydney called round to know if kis plaster had wrought benefit. " I'm 
 getting round, Sir; but I doubt I sha'n't be fit for duty by Sunda}"- 
 next." " Sorry for that, David, indeed ; we shall miss you at the sing- 
 ing." Then turning to me, "You can't think what a good hand David 
 
CHARACTER OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 213 
 
 It has been objected, that his temperament un- 
 fitted him for the clerical profession. It certainly did 
 not prevent his active discharge of those duties which 
 belong to the office of a parish-priest; and I have 
 heard from good authority, that during his long resi- 
 dence (of sixteen years, I believe) on his living in 
 Yorkshire, no clergyman ever performed those duties 
 with better effect. / know how he performed them 
 at Combe Florey, and recollect it with admiration 
 and respect. Sucli viHage sermons are rare; such 
 pastoral protection and care not frequent; whilst his 
 medical knowledge (which was purposely acquired at 
 Edinburgh in this view) was always available to his 
 poor neiglibours' comfort and relief. But he indulged 
 in levity, it is asserted, on religious topics. To this 
 I reply, that, whatever may have passed in the fami- 
 liar confidence of liis intimate society, nothing that 
 the public havT a right to deal with is obnoxious to 
 this cavil. Professionally speaking, Sydney Smith 
 was without blemish; and this is saying much. Let 
 such dignitaries as are without spot throw the first 
 stone. He did not, moreover, choose his profession; 
 and the most that can be said, therefore, is, that being 
 made a priest by his father's will and desire, he did 
 not compress and subjugate the original man into the 
 ideal of a churchman. Yet it has been suggested, on 
 the opposite view of his character, that he used his 
 powerful pen in behalf of his corporation interests ! 
 (Letters to Archdeacon Singleton, to wit.) The 
 truth is, that Sydney conceived it to be his profes- 
 
 is at a psalm — you slioulJ hear him lead oIT the OH Kitndi'edth." At 
 which the old clerk's eyes fairly glistened as he stammered oat, " Ah ! 
 your hoaour's oaly sayiag that to cheer mc up a bit." 
 
214 CIIARACTEU OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 sional duty to espouse the corporation interests ; and 
 accordingly he sustained tliem by his one-sided pro- 
 fessional remonstrance against Lord John Russell's 
 interference with its rights. But it is difficult to 
 please all objectors, and even Sydney Smith could 
 not hit the mark, — too catholic for some, too clerical- 
 minded for others; the only sure course being a blind 
 and steady party-zeal: and this was just what my 
 revered friend could not practise. He aided the 
 Whigs prodigiously when they figured as the apostles 
 of the principles he had at heart; for he wrote with 
 the force of conviction. At a later season, they were 
 in the ascendant, and he wielded his pen in the cleri- 
 cal service as the paramount obligation of his later 
 days. That he should have been something more — 
 or something less, as you will — than a member of the 
 sacerdotal corporation, seems to me inseparable from 
 the enlarged and beneficent character of Sydney 
 Smith's mind: and I can only add, would that the 
 Church were never worse served than by my lamented 
 friend ! 
 
FRENCH POLITICS. 
 
 January, 1850. 
 
 La Presse is distinguished among Paris journals lor 
 an undaunted self-reliance, and together with the 
 vices of audacity it possesses not a few of the good 
 qualities of courage. It can, when so pleased, be 
 candid; and it has thus given circulation to a 
 remarkable and interesting series of letters, by an 
 American gentleman, on the Political Constitutions 
 of England, the United States, and France under the 
 actual Republic. 
 
 Compared with the wearisome and pompous decla- 
 mation of the Democratic organs, or with the mystical 
 and high-flown homilies of Legitimacy, these letters 
 claimed a marked attention ; coming as they do from 
 a citizen of the greatest Republic ever organized since 
 the world began ; from one schooled in its discipline, 
 familiar with its machinery, and extensively con- 
 versant with its doctrines ; accustomed also to com- 
 pare them both in their theory and in their practice 
 with the old institutions of Europe. Mr. Henry 
 Wikoff has lived much v/ith the French; he admires 
 their nation, and loves to dwell among them : hence 
 his earnest longings to be useful, according to his 
 ability, in assisting them to arrive at that most im- 
 portant blessing, a solid and well-constructed form of 
 government. Taking as the text of his first letter 
 " the Constitution of the United States," he expounds 
 the action of its respective forces in securing the 
 
216 FRENCH POLITICS. 
 
 nearest approach to liberty and equality ever beheld 
 in the social state, coincidently with that security to 
 life and property without which any government were 
 a worthless pageant. AVe hardly know in what shape 
 instruction on political philosophy could be rendered 
 more available to the people than in the one Mr. 
 Wikoff has chosen. His exposition of the American 
 apparatus of government is delivered in an unpre- 
 tending simple style, such as might characterize the 
 descriptions of machines or instruments in the pages 
 of a scientific treatise. One is made to see so clearly 
 the relation between the several parts, that ideas of 
 mechanical laws unconsciously rise to the mind, and 
 we half expect to see an illustrative cut, with " A the 
 cylinder, C the fly-wheel, F the revolving pinion, H 
 the valve-index," and so forth. Once familiar with 
 the structure of a political constitution sanctioned by 
 experiment, the French people will be furnished with 
 a model according to which their own may be made 
 to fit its i)urpose; although, starting from a condition 
 less favourable to constructive oroanization than the 
 colonial architects, some compromises must be made 
 with ancient principles. It depends upon the French 
 people, as a nation, how far these shall extend ; and 
 tliey may thank the author of the letters to La Presse 
 for lending them a helping hand towards a better 
 comprehension of their interests in respect to the 
 nature of such compromises. 
 
 The striking feature, we repeat, of these letters, is 
 their transparent clearness; a feature in wliich the 
 writers of the day in France, with all their talent, 
 certainly do not shine. The view Mr. AVikofFhas taken 
 of the English constitutional coui'se may be pronounced 
 
FRENCH POLITICS. 217 
 
 sagacious on the whole; and it is instructive, as 
 tracing the conflict between the mighty elements of 
 English life, Aristocracy and Democracy, througli a 
 long historical period, till the curious and indescri- 
 bable thing which the English government has come 
 to be, got into operation, to the despair of foreign 
 statesmen and the misleading of foreign imitators. 
 The New Yorker, however, is not quite so much at 
 home in his subject when writing upon England; but 
 is hardly open to censure for incompleteness, seeing 
 that he has treated a prodigious subject within the 
 space of a few columns, and that without violating 
 any important historical sequence, although he has 
 necessarily overlooked a vast number of intermediate 
 and connecting links. 
 
 But the really essential lesson to be inculcated on 
 tlie French nation is, not so much how their new 
 framcAvork of civil government should be put together, 
 as how it should be worked and applied to its purpose 
 when set up. For here lies the formidable difficulty 
 with that people, so insidiously cheated of their hopes 
 by each successive dynasty, and so unfairly re- 
 proached by lookers-on for manifesting discontent 
 under their disappointments. 
 
 It is to no purpose that the French people make 
 revolutions, since the government which succeeds 
 contrives to get back into the vicious track of its ex- 
 pelled predecessor; or, if not into the same, into a 
 course no less fatal to national credit and tranquillity. 
 The moral to be deduced from this is twofold. Some 
 will choose to affirm that tliis fact proves how much 
 wiser the people would show themselves if they would 
 let revolutions alone, and submit to the unavoidable 
 
218 FRENCH rOLITICS. 
 
 evils of bad governors. Others, more keenly alive to 
 the principles of equity and the reciprocal duties of 
 governors and governed, will adopt the maxim that 
 care must be taken in reforming a government to put 
 at the head of it jiersons interested in its going on 
 successfully and healthily. But this is just what 
 cannot be hoped for in the case of the present 
 Eepublic of France. 
 
 In that beautiful country, rich in all the elements 
 which can constitute earthly happiness and solid 
 prosperity, there unhappily wants a steadfast desire 
 for the growth and permanent establishment of the 
 actual government. The whole of the upper class of 
 Frenchmen, from the President down to the Lecturer 
 on Botany at the Academy of Dijon, are in a tacit 
 league to the end that the Republic shall not stand. 
 In the face of such a coalition, what are the working 
 classes to do? Is it conceivable, we would ask, that, 
 under the original American constitution even, a 
 republic could have got on its legs, if Washington, if 
 Jefferson, Adams, and Franklin, and that class of 
 political men, had looked unkindly upon its birth? 
 What made the infant republic sj^ring to vigorous 
 life? what made the constitution gradually evolve 
 itself into effective operation after the Convention 
 of 1787-8-9? 
 
 It was the cordial patriotism of the American 
 statesmen, principal no less than secondary, which 
 mainly brought about the success of that memorable 
 experiment : it is the absence of this element in France 
 — patriotic singleness of purpose, and a disposition to 
 accept the present fabric as her permanent destiny — 
 which, it is to be feared, will hinder it from taking 
 
FRENCH POLITICS. 219 
 
 root in her soil, or in the attachment of her sons. 
 Can anj^thing be more disheartening than to see a 
 noble man-of-war betrayed by her officers? Yet 
 such will be the spectacle offered by the Republic of 
 France, unless some means can be found to frustrate 
 the combination formed against it by every cluster of 
 parties engaged in public life. 
 
 It is not difficult to specify in what consists the 
 disposition to abolish this government. Every at- 
 tentive observer can see that it is not rich enough to 
 corrupt the hungry harpies who supported the late 
 system. Their support is withdrawn, whilst that of 
 no other party can be relied on ; simply because they 
 desire and hope to establish each their own idol, on 
 the ruins of the Republic. The President, weak in 
 his personal following, is thus obliged to play the 
 game of attracting the favour of the working classes 
 and of the arm}^ And a game more destructive, in 
 respect to permanent popularity with the nation at 
 large, there cannot be. With Mr. Wikoff's aid wc 
 may recur to the leading points which bear upon the 
 difficulties of the French nation in getting even a 
 good constitution into work. Meanwhile, let us 
 refrain from those too common accusations against 
 the people, as such, for allowing no government to 
 stand, Avhilst as yet they have destroyed none which 
 has deserved to endure. 
 
 Should the present one perish, it would certainly 
 owe its destruction, not to the " Republicans of the 
 streets," but to the conspirators of the salons ; to the 
 verv class from whom we have heard such unmea- 
 sured revilino'S aaainst the " restless discontents" of 
 the lower orders. The Republic, it is manifest, suits 
 
220 FEENCII rOLITICS. 
 
 neither the aristocracy nor the office-seekers; the 
 Monarchy did not satisfy the people. Shall we 
 never get beyond a choice between one. class interest 
 and another? 
 
 The third letter addressed by Mr. WikofF, the Ameri- 
 can, to the Paris journal La Fresse, deals in a sort of 
 historical resume of French internal changes, from an 
 early period ; the drift of which would seem to be the 
 illustration of Mr. WikofF's favourite dogma, that 
 without a due proportion of the three elementary 
 principles — monarchical, aristocratical, and democra- 
 tical — no nation can expect to flourish, or even to 
 avoid political tempests. We suspect that a good 
 many other reasons, besides the defective operation 
 of " the balance," may be assigned for the frequent 
 intestine commotions of our neighbours; and what is 
 more, we doubt whether " the balance" has been the 
 secret of our own tranquil progress since the expul- 
 sion of the last Stuart. It is true that a belief in the 
 theory of mutual checks in the English constitution 
 has been Avidely circulated, and treated as a reality 
 by eminent publicists and professors of jurisprudence. 
 De Lolme, for instance, built a name upon an elabo- 
 rate exposition of its admirable structure, which for 
 years served for a text-book on Government. But 
 whoever studies the operation of English institutions 
 attentively, seldom fails to discover that there are, in 
 fact, only two forces at work, — the monarch and the 
 aristocracy, covertly united, on one side ; the popular 
 will on the other. Even the memorable project of 
 the Reform Bill was but a sacrifice on the part of one 
 section of aristocracy to gain the advantage over a 
 rival section, in which the reigning monarch lent them 
 
FRENCH POLITICS. 221 
 
 his aid. The pure element of aristocratical power, 
 the House of Lords, was then seen to exert its separate 
 will and interest. But the " balance" was, like the 
 scales of Brennus, falsified by an unscrupulous use of 
 the royal prerogative. The king, having the people 
 at his back, for once sliowed the value of the pre- 
 tended " balance," when compared Avith the reality of 
 a popular determination : an instructive lesson, not 
 often permitted to the lookers-on, so plausible is the 
 fiction, and so useful to the governing powers. 
 
 After all, we have no objection to the theory, as 
 such ; and if Mr. Wikoff succeed in engrafting it upon 
 the French mind, it is quite conceivable that he may 
 be doing them a service. For as the Democratic 
 party in the French Chamber seeks to render itself 
 predominant by means unbecoming a deliberative 
 assembly, it would seem but fitting that those members 
 who belong to a class habituated to the restraints of 
 genteel life should be allowed to exercise the function 
 of legislators in peace and with decorous forms. And 
 to this end, as Mr. WikofF urges, two Chambers are 
 indispensable, — a bear-garden for the "Montague;" 
 and a Senate (or " House of Lords") for educated 
 men of business, where public discussion should be 
 carried on with some chance of profit to the country, 
 by those who under an unitary representative system 
 would be condemned to inaction. 
 
 But in order that a nation should consolidate its 
 public institutions, it must positively resist wanton 
 changes. " Le mieux est I'ennemi du bien," it has 
 been happily said; and the existing French constitu- 
 tion, with all its faults, offers so much of what is 
 essential to a good one, that, having got it into 
 
222 FRENCH POLITICS. 
 
 operation, the nation ought to endeavour to keep it 
 going at least for some years, by force of good citi- 
 zenship, and a firm will to resist the provocations of 
 dissatisfied and restless partisans of a monarchy : and 
 thus, since the existing law forbids the re-election of 
 the President, so ought it to stand, although it may 
 be one of questionable wisdom. 
 
 It strikes us as a most discouraging fact, that an 
 able and influential writer like M. C. Dunoyer should 
 at this time of day, constitute himself all at once the 
 apostle of Legitimacy. In a pamphlet recently put 
 forth, he distinctly calls upon his countrymen to 
 throw aside all this wicker-work of a government, 
 and to recall Henri Cinq, with the whole tissue of 
 exploded sentiments and traditions, as being the only 
 chance for the French nation to regain her character 
 among the powers of Europe. It reminds one of what 
 takes place after the curtain has fallen at the theatre 
 npon the final scene of a tragic drama : every leading 
 personage being killed or exiled, and the "moral" 
 left to operate on the spectators, forth steps the 
 manager, and announces that the play will be acted 
 again the next night. So with M. Dunoyer: the 
 terrible efibrts by which the French have sought to 
 escape from the abuses of kingly government are 
 treated like the acts of players ; whilst the King is 
 behind the scenes, ready to step on to the stage once 
 more, wholly regardless of the sanguinary lessons 
 which have been inculcated on his predecessors. 
 But the French people cannot be desirous of re- 
 establishing a Bourbon dynasty. We agree with 
 Mr. Wikofi", that the}^ are not justly chargeable with 
 fickleness or with a blind love of revolutions, They 
 
FRENCH POLITICS. 223 
 
 have proved that they could resent the faults of bad 
 governments, and also that, sixty years ago, they 
 could be led to commit furious excesses in their 
 vengeance: but what centuries of oppression had 
 they not endured? Now, however, the nation, as 
 such, is disposed to check all attempts at violence, 
 and might be readily brought to co-operate in the 
 organization of provincial and local systems of 
 government, were its rulers but honest enough to 
 afford it the means. We fear, however, that the 
 passion for centralization, so rife among political 
 leaders, will continue to paralyze a tendency which, 
 if encouraged, might beyond all else promote the 
 internal tranquillity of France, as well as afford a 
 counterpoise to the mischievous ascendancy of its 
 metropolis. 
 
THE CITIZEN PEER. 
 
 February, 1850. 
 
 One of our most distinguished fellow citizens is, we 
 understand, to be speedily advanced to the honours 
 and dignity of the Peerage, by the title of Baron 
 Overstone. The road by which Mr. Samuel Jones 
 Loyd will have arrived at this dignity is one which is 
 seldom travelled, — namely, that of individual merit. 
 It is indeed probable that the vast wealth of which he 
 is reputed to be the possessor, counts for much in the 
 calculations of those by whom he has been invited to 
 assume the coronet: but we believe that the personal 
 qualities of the eminent ex-banker, his accurate 
 knowledge of some of the most difficult subjects which 
 the Legislature is called upon to consider, coupled 
 with a rare talent for lucid and condensed exposition 
 of his views, have supplied still more weighty motives 
 for placing him in the House of Lords. The acquisi- 
 tion, by the party in possession of office, of a recruit 
 of so valuable a quality, is matter of congratulation 
 to all their friends, whilst the country may well regard 
 with satisfaction the presence in Parliament of a man 
 of large possessions, combining talent of no common 
 order with a sincere love of progress, and a sound 
 appreciation of the public interests. 
 
 For many years past, the friends of Mr. Loyd have 
 regretted that the sphere of his influence should be so 
 limited, and that the confidence felt in his sagacious 
 counsels should be shared by those alone to whom 
 
THE CITIZEN PEER. 225 
 
 his society was accessible. But to the House of 
 Commons he was little suited. He regarded tlint 
 assembly as one in which a man's capacity to be of 
 service to the public was more than counterbalanced 
 by the extreme annoyance to which the licence per- 
 mitted there to personal attacks subjects him; espe- 
 cially after the period of youth is past, and the habit 
 of self-respect has become comparatively sensitive. 
 
 In the Upper House, to do it justice, more atten- 
 tion is given to expository speeches ; a greater decorum 
 prevails ; and, what is of still more value to an advo- 
 cate of farsighted principles in any walk of legislation, 
 the speaker is unfettered by the control of constituents. 
 And here, in fact, lies the important distinction be- 
 tween the debates in the respective Chambers. The 
 standard by which a member of the House of 
 Commons adjusts his discourse is necessarily kept 
 down to the quality which suits his supporters in the 
 borough or county he represents. That of a peer 
 needs to be adjusted by no considerations except such 
 as belong to his theme, unless perhaps we admit 
 party motives as likely to influence his arguments. 
 From party motives, however, tlie new peer will pro- 
 bably derive but slender inspiration ; although doubt- 
 less his inclinations will lead him to put out his 
 strength, when occasion and conscience concur, in 
 favour of the Whig Government. 
 
 The reasons in support of a double chamber of 
 legislation would seem to be sustained by the expe- 
 rience of recent Continental events. If, in truth, we 
 hold by the old song, " Crabbed age and youth cannot 
 live together," and farther, if mature age and property 
 are to be allowed their Itiir proportion of influence in 
 
 Q 
 
220 THE CITIZEN PEER. 
 
 the national councils, then must an Upper House be 
 maintained for its exercise. For since the changes in 
 tlie Lower House, brought about by the infusion of 
 a class somewhat addicted to infringe upon polite 
 rules and customs, it cannot be disguised that the 
 well-bred and more instructed section of that body 
 feel themselves unequally yoked; whilst their taste is 
 oifended, and their health impaired, by a profitless 
 attendance in a heterogeneous assembly, of which the 
 greater number are indifferent to tlie real merits of 
 the questions debated before them. 
 
 Viewed under this aspect, therefore, the present 
 House of Commons would seem to retain its attrac- 
 tion for gentlemen of large stake in the country, 
 chiefly as offering the means of maintaining their 
 political influence, and as a step towards the Upper 
 House. And it is creditable to the Government 
 that it waived this customary probation in the case 
 of Mr. Jones Loyd. To have bestowed the character 
 of a legislator for life upon an independent and un- 
 political commoner, of the commercial class, falls in 
 with the temper of the times, and is likely to give 
 general satisfaction out of doors. 
 
A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROPE. 
 
 K'ovember, 1850. 
 
 The events of tlie day, notified as they are by the 
 various organs wliich the ingenuity of man now 
 devotes to the business of supplying " news" all over 
 the world, are enough to occupy most persons' minds 
 during the hours which business or the cares of life 
 leave us for the indulgence of reading. So rapid, 
 indeed, is the sequence of incidents which pass before 
 the eyes of Europe, that few people can discern in the 
 facts such a connexion as may alFord a clue to the 
 really pervading influences at work on the old frame 
 of society. That there is such a connexion ma}^ 
 nevertheless be affirmed; and one which it is amply 
 worth while to watch and trace, were it only for the 
 sake of curiosity, but which it more behoves us to 
 detect and interpret in the hope of turning our 
 knowledge to wholesome profit for the coming time. 
 
 The lower classes of the people of Europe may in 
 these daj^s be likened to a child who has become 
 possessed of a watch. He sees the dial, and the hands 
 at work; it performs certain processes with given 
 results; his curiosity impels him to break open his 
 machine and examine the structure and contrivances; 
 whereby he destroys it, and the watch ceases to go. 
 The old governments of Continental Europe have 
 been in like fashion exposed to view ; broken into by 
 popular curiosity, prompted by popular displeasure ; 
 and the actual result is, that they, like the watcli, 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROrE. 
 
 have one and all ceased to perforin, or at least have 
 come into so dismal a state of confusion that every- 
 ■\vhere is found consternation, disunion, vacillation, 
 and alarm. One power alone may be said to have 
 got "on her legs" once more, which is Austria; and 
 that she is insolvent is admitted even by her stanch 
 supporter the Times newspaper. But Austria, at 
 least, " knows what she would be at," which is more 
 than can be predicated of any other European cabinet. 
 She wants to bring matters back to a position nearly 
 resembling that in which governments stood prior to 
 the revolution of 1848. With Russia at her elbow, 
 Austria is therefore labouring in her vocation, and 
 has recently shown her sincerity by aiding one of the 
 lesser German states to resist manifestations of dis- 
 affection among its subjects. On the other side, the 
 King of Prussia, with characteristic weakness and 
 incapacity of foreseeing political results, has been 
 worse than a nullity in regard to the advancement of 
 Liberal doctrines in Germany. By his trimming 
 and dissimulating conduct, he has forfeited all claim 
 to confidence on the part of the friends of progress, 
 whilst he has become odious in the eyes of his more 
 consistent and clearsighted fellow monarclis. His 
 pretended demonstrations in behalf of i\\Q i^eople of 
 Hesse have been proved insincere ; and the King of 
 Prussia is now, although wielding an immense 
 military force, completely at sea as to how to play out 
 his own foolish game. I need not particularize the 
 sources of this embarrassment, which must be patent 
 to the eyes of such as have observed passing events 
 with any attention of late. But the combination of 
 Austria and Russia against the growth of popular 
 
A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROPE. 229 
 
 institutions is too formidable to leave room to doubt 
 that, in countries subject to their influence, very little 
 progress can be made for the present : coupled with 
 this, the resistance on the part of the higher classes 
 to popular sentiments, in countries not comprised 
 under this leaden despotism, may be considered as 
 forming nearly as potent an obstacle to tbe growth of 
 freedom as the resuscitated remnant of the Holy 
 Alliance itself. 
 
 If I am not misinformed, the bulk of the richer 
 inhabitants and noble families in the leading states 
 of Germany (certainly in Prussia, Hanover, Saxony, 
 and Bavaria) entertain a decided aversion to admit- 
 ting the element of " representation" into the machi- 
 nery of state government. Now, therefore, when 
 Ave hear of certain kings being disposed to grant con- 
 cessions to popular demands, it should always be 
 borne in mind, that in doing so they alienate the main 
 body of their adherents among the upper ranks in the 
 country, and find, in these, unwilling ministers of any 
 line of policy tainted with the sin of a democratic 
 tendency. When this general fact is remembered, 
 together with another, namely, that the mass of the 
 people in Germany is both untrained to political 
 action and ill-provided with individual organs or 
 leaders, it must appear hopeless to expect German 
 social amelioration to proceed, save at a terribly slov/ 
 rate. Still, I believe it does proceed, and that in spite 
 of Austrian influence; and now the question suggests 
 itself, why is Austria suffered to weigh like an 
 incubus upon civilization and human development? 
 Has slie a friend among the AVestern family of 
 Europe? No, I answer; not one at heart. But her 
 
230 A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROrE. 
 
 2)ositioii ill tlie mctp^ involved as it is with everlasting 
 traditions of bygone transactions, treaties, " under- 
 standings," protocols, &c., mixed up with indefinable 
 apprehensions of "losing the key to the East" if 
 Austria ceased to bar the road to Constantinople, — 
 all these and many more mysterious associations have 
 so hedged the old empire round about, in the minds 
 of red-tapists of the highest order, that her genuine 
 character, or the mischief her rule generates to the 
 millions subject to it, never counts for anything in 
 discussions bearing on Continental polity, among her 
 contemporaries. 
 
 This ancient, time-honoured nuisance, thus con- 
 tinues to bear sway; thanks to the superstitions 
 embodied in her existence, and to the instinct of 
 sympathy which enlists every lover of absolute 
 government in her preservation. Nay, her very 
 resurrection, after the expulsion of her presiding 
 genius Prince Metternich, in 1848, was the fruit of too 
 respectful an attachment to ancient rights and forms 
 on the part of popular chiefs, who were thereby with- 
 held from pushing the advantages they had gained. 
 
 Among the motives, however (for they are multi- 
 form), which concur in maintaining the power of 
 Austria, is the desire to keep on foot an antagonist 
 force as against France in Europe. Whatever one 
 may wish as regards the maintenance of good and 
 amicable relations with that near and powerful neigh- 
 bour of ours, nothing is more clear than that we 
 ought " never to trust her out of our sight." The 
 extreme sensitiveness of the French people on the side 
 of national importance, not to say vanity, enables 
 their governors to turn to account their foible, on 
 
A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROPE. 231 
 
 occasion, often at perilous cost: with such a weak 
 side, it is natural to apprehend that our neighbours 
 would clap up an alliance with any power who should 
 offer them the tempting bait of an " arrondissement 
 de frontiere," or who would do homage to their 
 " greatness" in any other, even less substantial way. 
 The fact is, that the French nation is in too unsettled 
 a state to be counted on for any purpose beneficial to 
 the interests of mankind. They will be persuaded to 
 do anything — march anywhere — repudiate no matter 
 what principles of political morality — if they but hear 
 the old watchwords " French influence," " legitimate 
 ascendancy," "glory of the French arms," and so 
 forth. For who can ever forget, much less forgive, 
 the monstrous application made of newly-established 
 republican powers, on these pretexts, to the extinc- 
 tion of nascent independence and republican govern- 
 ment in Rome? 
 
 That unpardonable act of the French rulers was, 
 indeed, I much fear me, far from offensive to the 
 nation itself: at least, 1 know that some of its most 
 estimable citizens, including, for instance, M. Leon 
 Faucher and M. Alexis de Tocqueville, viewed the 
 employment of French bayonets to force the Pope 
 upon an unwilling people as a suitable, nay, a praise- 
 worthy act, even of a government owing its existence 
 to the popular breath. 
 
 But to return to the general aspect of the 
 European world as it now stands. From France 
 small anticipations are to be cherished of co-operation 
 in the Avork of progress. Whatever disposition may 
 animate the masses of that nation, her present ruling 
 classes have too great a fear of the encroaclunents of 
 
232 A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROPE. 
 
 the popular element to encourage new efforts at re- 
 forming social abuses. They would rather, in fact, 
 accept the friendly support of some old despotism 
 than that of a republic of any kind. It is tolerably 
 evident, then, that from no existing government 
 can the partisans of political reformation look for 
 support, or even countenance. From England it is 
 not likely to attend them — and I say this without 
 meaning to cast blame on this nation for withholding 
 it; the peculiar position in which she is placed in 
 reference to France being of itself a serious ground for 
 observing a discreet neutrality in the affairs of other 
 countries. France and Ens-land misfht, indeed, new- 
 model the greater portion of these, if they could 
 cordially agree upon fundamental principles. But 
 how can this be hoped for, after the hateful crusade 
 of the former in behalf of a crumbling priesthood, 
 whose rule, already fallen into contempt and odium 
 among its own subjects, was confessedly unsuited to 
 the altered tone of sentiment prevalent in the modern 
 world? What common action can there be on the 
 part of the French and English people, after such a 
 manifestation of attachment to the old doctrine of 
 " divine right" on the part of a government of 
 yesterday? There is no knowing on what mutual 
 foundation we are to base our alliance, in short. And 
 thus the idle dream of a cordial co-operation between 
 the two countries melts away into thin air; and 
 England turns to the more comprehensible, though 
 ugly-looking partnership afforded by the alliance of 
 Austria, as better calculated to help her in maintain- 
 ing order in Euro^^e. 
 
 The two great elements now arrayed against each 
 
A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROPE. 233 
 
 other are, democratic doctrines, and resistance by the 
 actual depositaries of power to their encroacliments. 
 
 How the conflict will Anally end, is perhaps not 
 diflicult to foresee. But the phases it may have to 
 pass through before the opposing forces come to a 
 stand-still, will derive their complexion and im- 
 portance from the individual actions of existing 
 governments. And the interest one feels in the 
 progress of this vast struggle arises from watching 
 the conduct of these, month by month. The popular 
 party naturally make blunders, and will commit 
 more; whilst the reigning parties divide their tactics 
 between concession and duplicity: and concession 
 oftentimes proves an illusion; witness the Austrian 
 and AYurtembero; Governments' retractation of those 
 which were made in order to recover their position in 
 1848. If the French Revolution gave, as it seems it 
 did, the tirst shake to absolute government through- 
 out the Continent, it is not from that quarter that 
 any farther help is to be expected to the Liberal 
 cause; and though its enemies the sovereigns arc 
 alarmed, and their fears lead them to make terras 
 with their subjects here and there, the powerful 
 armies of Russia and Austria will probably over- 
 whelm all resistance, should the spirit of revolt 
 become sufficiently general to call for the employ- 
 ment of so extreme a measure. 
 
 The hopes of advancing in the path of reformation, 
 then, depend on the peoples keeping within the limits 
 of this necessity their manifestations of dissatisfaction. 
 And thus a grumbling underground portentous note 
 of change may be all that the present generation arc 
 destined to witness. A silent revolution, however, 
 
234 A GLANCE AT MODERN EUROPE. 
 
 which in any case must be achieved, has its advan- 
 tages, though it is difficult to appreciate the gain of 
 what is not patent and tangible. And whether 
 Europe shall become much the wiser or happier for 
 the great organic modifications which are impending 
 over her society, must in the end depend upon the 
 character of those few leadino: minds who rise to in- 
 fluence under a new form of government. That some 
 men worthy of their sublime mission will come out of 
 the melee, can hardly be doubted ; when they must 
 take heed lest they lose the fruit of sacrifices, always 
 serious, often ruinous to a nation in revolt, by the 
 fatal process of conciliation of enemies : a process 
 which infallibly leads to the necessity of beginning 
 the work anew. In conclusion, the sad truth 
 must out, that England and France never can 
 " row in the same boat :" we may be thankful if 
 neither nation launch their " boat" at all upon the 
 ocean of strife, for the chances are that they would 
 be found on opposite sides of the dispute. This re- 
 flection, however, need not prevent our remaining on 
 friendly terms with our great neighbour during the 
 prevalence of peace in Euroj^e: for which let us 
 heartily offer up our prayers to Heaven. 
 
THE " SITUATION." 
 
 Paris, Nor. 1851. 
 
 A FRIEND now in Paris has given us the aid of a 
 graphic pen to realize the " scene " in the French 
 Assembly, on the proposition of the Questors to place 
 an independent army under the command of President 
 Dupin or his nominees; and has added some specula- 
 tions on the position of political parties in Paris. As 
 a description, the letter speaks for itself: as an 
 observer, we know that our correspondent's opportu- 
 nities and faculties of interpreting the true political 
 aspect are equally of the best — {Spectator.) 
 
 " You will have seen the accounts given by the 
 journals of the agitated seance of the 17th instant, 
 which is acknowledged to have been one of the most 
 exciting performances of the year. I was fortunate 
 in obtaining an excellent seat, where I could hear 
 almost every word, at least when the orator's voice 
 was not drowned in clamour or laughter. The 
 Chamber was excessively full; seven hundred or more 
 Deputies being present, besides numerous clerks, 
 officers, and attendants : the tribunes crowded to in- 
 convenience, and the interest taken in the debate 
 unusually keen. After General Leflo's speech, which 
 was listened to with great attention, a hubbub arose, 
 the like of which is seldom witnessed even in the 
 National Assembly. I noted the duration of this 
 disorderly tunuilt (for such one may term it), and it 
 was precisely half an hour. The President, ]\I. Dupin, 
 
236 THE "situation." 
 
 sat passively in his curulc chair, gazing on the surg- 
 ing waves below, ever and anon giving a shake of tlie 
 piercing but ineffective brass bell at his elbow; the 
 ushers shouting, so as to be heard above the storm, 
 * A vos places. Messieurs I' ' Silence !' ' En place !' &c. ; 
 but the eager and confused masses engaged in talk, 
 chiefly in the middle of the salle, and round the 
 President's seat and tribune, heeding nothing thereof; 
 almost every member of the Gauche quitted his seat 
 and rushed down to the floor. The Faucher section, 
 as I may call it, or those of the Mnjority who were 
 resolved to resist the proposition of the Questors as 
 leadhig infallibly to some overt rupture between the 
 powers of the state, remained mostly in their seats, 
 awaiting the subsidence of the uproar. The noise was 
 so great that you could liardly make 3'ourself heard 
 by your next neighbour in the tribune. You need 
 not to be told that the appearance of M. Thiers at the 
 rostrum was productive of fresh clamour and furious 
 demonstrations of party feeling. Thiers himself 
 seemed chokinc; with rao-e, as he bandied sarcasms 
 with his skilful opponent Jules Favre; who dexte- 
 rously turned upon him the ridicule of the Mountain 
 and the contempt of the Faucher party, feebly 
 redeemed by a few straggling cries of ' Tres bien !' 
 
 " The words ' Comedie de la peur,' and ' Reunion 
 nocturne,' were used in an allusion to the farce played 
 off by M. Thiers and a few of his adherents on 
 Thursday night the 13th instant. They affected to 
 believe that a violent attack on the independence 
 of the Assembly was in contemplation, and accord- 
 ingly thought proper to bivouac there all night; 
 sending messengers to members of the Gauche in all 
 
THE "situation." 237 
 
 directions, to urge them to repair to the Assembly to 
 aid Thiers and his party in defending their sacred 
 rights, &c. Some of the Gauche complied, and have 
 since laughed at their own credulit3^ 
 
 " This move of the Questors, you must know, is 
 universally believed to have been the work of M. 
 Thiers; who, being now the bitter foe of the Elysee, 
 wanted to force on a conflict, which would either put 
 the President of the Republic in the wrong, or, in case 
 of his compliance, enable him, Thiers, and his party, 
 to nominate to the command of the guard at the 
 Chamber a man understood to be favourable to their 
 political purposes. General Changarnier, if so nom- 
 inated, would not scruple, it is thought, to use his 
 authority to repress the pure Republican party, and 
 possibly to exalt that of the Royalists. 
 
 " The Montague, on their side, discerning pretty 
 clearly the drift of this scheme, have taken part with 
 the Executive, and, with a few exceptions, resisted a 
 proposition which, if followed out, miglit possibly throw 
 up imforeseen difficulties in the way of the repeal of 
 the law of May 31, the favourite object of this section 
 of politicians. Again, the Moderate party, layino- 
 aside their enmities and wounded amour-propre (the 
 effect of the President's offensive message), took 
 counsel together on Saturday evening last, and 
 determined on a combined opposition to the proposi- 
 tion, as reported by M. Vitet, Vice-President of the 
 Chamber; and this for the sake of maintaining, as 
 long as it should be feasible, a decent accord, or 
 semblance of accord, between Louis Napoleon and the 
 Assembly, in the obvious interest of the country in 
 general. 
 
233 THE " SITUATION." 
 
 " Now the upshot of tliis cross action among the 
 sections of the Assembly is somewhat curious to 
 contemplate. The picture is placed in a very 
 different light since last August. Then, the President 
 had managed, through the address and unwearied zeal 
 of M. L^on Faucher and his colleagues, to make up 
 his quarrel with the Majority, and to keep the 
 ]\Iontagne at least in check. The actual position of 
 affairs throws Louis Napoleon upon the Montague for 
 support, and arrays the two sections of the Majority 
 against each other; thus, practically, annulling the 
 formidable combination which lately threatened to 
 close the door against his re-election. 
 
 " But, whilst it is undeniable that, pro tanto^ he 
 has gained by the dislocation of parties till now 
 concurring in enmity towards himself, yet his new 
 allies can be viewed as no better than casual sup- 
 porters, who will desert him so soon as he has 
 served their immediate turn. The President, there- 
 fore, must be considered in the light of a desperate 
 gamester, who accepts any sort of chance of bettering 
 his fortune, come from what source it may. On the 
 other hand, the Chamber may be said to have lost 
 ground by the late exhibition, and to have furnished 
 another proof of their entire inability to pursue any 
 course of combined action. So far, indeed, Louis 
 Napoleon may be considered as benefited by the 
 passage in question : his opponents are discredited, 
 and are more disunited than before; whilst the 
 Montague, which on most questions votes as one man, 
 will bear him through the impending struggle for the 
 repeal of the unpopular law. 
 
 " The President seems to have sunk extremely low 
 
THE " SITUATION.' 239 
 
 in public opinion, as far as I have had opportunities 
 of observing; and if ho succeed in getting himself 
 illegally re-elected, it can only be through the absence 
 of any more acceptable candidate; since the ignorant 
 or blind Napoleonist votes of the masses, which 
 would remain after deducting the voters for the 
 (inevitable) Red candidate, could hardly outweigh 
 the votes of those who would support an eligible 
 Republican name (if proposed) rather than elect a 
 non-eligible candidate. Still, there is always the 
 prodigious advantage on his side of being a prince, 
 strange though it sounds; for each eminent public 
 man feels jealous of an equal in rank, and grudges 
 his vote to assist in his elevation, whilst a prince is 
 already placed far above him, and his farther exalta- 
 tion excites no sense of humiliation in the unsuccess- 
 ful party. 
 
 " The Parisian citizens take scarcely any interest 
 in the squabbles of their governors. The shopkeeper 
 hopes to see his candidate, if possible, succeed ; but if 
 not, I really believe the French mind is become so 
 much more reasonable than it was, that he Avill 
 accept a legitimate defeat without being roused to 
 anger. The longing for quiet, and to be allowed to 
 drive their trades their own way, is become a 
 dominant feeling, as I am told, with all ranks of 
 Frenchmen." 
 
A RURAL EXCURSION IN FRANCE. 
 
 Versailles, Sept. 1, 1852. 
 
 The weather has been so fine during the last fort- 
 night, that to pass one's day out of doors, like " the 
 natives," has become well nigh a habit with strangers. 
 By way of turning one of these beautiful days to 
 account, we set out yesterday on a little excursion ; 
 of which I proceed to give you a brief sketch. 
 
 Quitting Versailles by the Porte de Satory, you 
 ascend a hill, from which the traveller obtains a noble 
 prospect over the town and surrounding country. 
 The railroad to Chartres passes under this road ; on 
 the top of the hill stretches a wide and extensive 
 tract of level ground, called the Plaine de Satory, 
 well known to fame, and which certainly offers un- 
 usual advantages as a field for military displays. The 
 road leads from this height down a pretty dell into 
 La Minierc, a narrow gorge richly wooded, forming 
 the limit of the old Pare de Versailles of Louis 
 Quatorze's creation. We next traversed the dull but 
 productive Plaine de Sacle, reaching about four miles 
 to the south-west; the whole surface being under 
 the careful culture of large occupiers, and evidently 
 of a fertile quality. Fruit-trees, in abundant bear- 
 ing, border the road the whole way, and in some 
 measure compensate the eye for the absence of 
 hedges. When we had passed over this region, we 
 found ourselves on the verge of a small but richl}-- 
 wooded valley, divided by a streamlet and green 
 
A RURAL EXCURSION IN FRANCE. 241 
 
 meadows, with a few farm-buildings, old garden walls, 
 and a large round structure, denoting a " colombier," 
 on its Northern slope. A more charming site could 
 not have been chosen for the retreat of those who 
 once illustrated this obscure spot. We left the 
 carriage, and, walking a short distance, entered, not 
 without pilgrim emotions, within the precincts of 
 Port Royal des Champs! The destroying spirit of 
 Persecution* has done its work most effectually, by 
 removing all traces of the once important Abbaye, as 
 well as those of the abodes of the " solitaires," who 
 sought the society of the " sisters," and the means of 
 mutual instruction, in these calm pleasing solitudes. 
 Nothing remains but masses of loose masonry, and 
 here and there a sort of crypt, with the garden-walls, 
 of great thickness, buttressed by projecting spurs, 
 out of which grow huge trunks of ivy, doubtless 
 coeval with the period of Port Royal's prosperity. 
 The colombier probably also dates from the same. 
 The names of Arnauld, Pascal, Nicole, and, in its 
 way, that of the Duchesse de Longueville, — who 
 filled so distinguished a place in her country's 
 domestic history, — rise to the memory as one wanders 
 over the ground so often trodden by these contempla- 
 tive recluses. No one who has learnt to value the 
 efforts made by conscientious thinkers to advance the 
 dignity of the human intellect, can visit this hallowed 
 spot without reverence. The poor nuns, too, suffered 
 their share of persecution for the sake of their mental 
 independence, and must be numbered with the noble 
 women Avho have deserved the crown of martyrdom 
 
 * Louis XIV. hunted the Jansenists out, and razed Port Eoyal to 
 the ground, to please, it was said, Madame de Maintenon. 
 
 R 
 
242 A RURAL EXCURSION IN FRANCE. 
 
 in behalf of something more precious than a visionary 
 belief. 
 
 Keluctantly bending our steps outwards, we now 
 once more rolled pleasantly along a macadamized road 
 of the finest sort, through more corn country, and 
 more beladen apple-trees, for about three-quarters of 
 an hour; at the end of which a remarkably fine pros- 
 pect opened out before us. From the summit of a 
 high 2^1ateau we commanded a view of the whole 
 magnificent valley of Dampierre, one of the most 
 beautiful m France, of considerable extent, and pre- 
 senting, what in this country has become a some- 
 what rare feature in its landscapes — I allude to the 
 richly-timbered park and princely seat of a real 
 " grand seigneur." 
 
 The high ground on the farther side of this valley 
 is entirely clothed with fine timber trees, for a long 
 distance; whilst the other slopes ofter also a goodly 
 spectacle of mixed forest scenery, with broken heatli- 
 covered banks. The eye rests delighted on such a 
 landscape, the like of which in England it would be 
 difficult to quote, unless perhaps it were some such 
 spot as Helmsley Dale, (Lord Feversham's noble 
 demesne in Yorkshire,) or Knowle Park and its 
 neighbourhood, in Kent. The timber of the park at 
 Dampierre is of a still finer growth; the climate 
 favouring the formation of forests in France in a way 
 to excite the envy of English visitors. Ash-trees, 
 with a clean run of bole seventy feet in length and 
 two or more in diameter — chestnut, oak, and abele of 
 imposing size, with vigorous large foliage and undying- 
 crowns — here furnish out a sylvan picture of surpass- 
 ing interest to tlie admirer of the vegetable kingdom, 
 
A RURAL EXCURSION IN FRANCE. 243 
 
 "Winding down by a skilfully made road, we gained 
 tlie lower ground, watered by the little river Yvette, 
 and entirely devoted to pasture, the herbage of which 
 was obviously rich and nutritive. The village of 
 Dampierre, seated on a rise, a little above the bed of 
 the stream, intersects, as it were, the grounds of the 
 Chateau de Dampierre : before the gates of which we 
 soon drew up, and were not a little astonished to 
 behold a mansion of imposing size, surrounded by 
 gardens and dressed grounds, and exhibiting every 
 mark of the most refined recherche taste and expen- 
 sive keeping-up. The house was partially destroyed 
 during the Revolution, as were most of the residences 
 of the noblesse; but the j^roprietor of this, the Due 
 de Chevreuse, not having emigrated, his estates were 
 restored to him in 1815, and his son, who now bears 
 the title of Due de Luynes, (they alternate these 
 titles, it seems,) caused the building to be completely 
 repaired, so that no signs of damage are discernible. 
 The house is of the latter period of Louis Quatorze, 
 and was constructed after the designs of Mansard. 
 It stands in water, on three sides, and is seated in the 
 lowest part of the basin of the valley — looking up 
 wide alleys cut in the park, and surrounded by trim 
 gardens, decked with numerous orange-trees and other 
 choice plants, ranged in their boxes along the borders. 
 Green grass plats are carefully cherished here, being 
 almost the onl}^ place in which I have found them : 
 water, always at hand, enables the gardener to coun- 
 teract the effects of the sun, everywhere else fatal to 
 green-sward. South of the chateau, and amid wavy 
 woods, is a lake several acres in extent, with sailing 
 and row boats moored on its surface. The water is 
 
 r2 
 
244 A RURAL EXCURSION IN FRANCE. 
 
 not stagnant, being constantly fed by the stream 
 running through this valley; and as we walked about 
 the gardens we saw the water discharging itself by a 
 gentle cascade, Avhich I presume never ceases, since 
 it is fully supplied at this driest of all seasons. 
 
 The interior of the chateau offers little to describe. 
 "We saw the state apartments alone, including the 
 chapel; for, as is usual in all ancient noble establish- 
 ments, the Due de Lu3mes keeps his family priest, 
 and has mass said daily. There are few pictures of 
 mark, and none of any pretension to merit as works 
 of art, in the rooms we passed through ; though I am 
 inclined to believe there are pictures in the Duke's 
 possession worth looking at, as he is reputed to be not 
 only fond of the arts, but given to encourage artists. 
 The only object of interest in the way of modern art 
 was a statue of Penelope fallen asleep over her spindle ; 
 very creditably executed, by a French sculptor. In 
 a kind of crypt, enclosed within iron-bound doors, we 
 were shown a silver statue of Louis the Thirteenth, 
 in light armour, hat and feather; life size, taken at 
 the age of fifteen or sixteen perhaps. This work, 
 which is cleverly designed, was intended as a mark 
 of grateful homage on the part of a Due do Luynes 
 towards the founder of his fortunes; the first Due de 
 Luynes having risen to greatness from the condition 
 of a poor Italian gentleman, named Alberti, througli 
 the favour of that monarch. He married into the 
 Montbazon family, refusing an alliance with the niece 
 of the King, Mademoiselle de Vendome; and his 
 family may be considered as ranking among the most 
 honourable of the nation. The present head of the 
 family has the reputation of possessing all those 
 
A RURAL EXCURSION IN FRAN'CE. 245 
 
 qualities which grace high birth and station. Aiming 
 at no great political importance, he employs his 
 ample fortune in cultivating the arts, (he has the 
 finest private collection of medals perhaps in the 
 kingdom,) in promoting philanthropic undertakings, 
 and in rendering useful services to those who need 
 liis generous assistance; a high-bred personal bearing 
 conferring the last charm upon a character otherwise 
 entitled to respect and love, — in short, a FrencJi 
 Ellesmere. 
 
 I have no more room, so will close my sheet. 
 Accept this sketch for what it is worth. 
 
THE WAR FROM AN UNPOPULAR POINT 
 OF VIEW. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Beaconsfield, 26tli November, 1855. 
 Sir, — In Sir Arthur Elton's letter wliicli he adclressed 
 to you last week, he asks " Where do the advocates 
 of war propose to stop?" It seems to me nowise 
 difficult to answer this query. The " advocates" 
 doubtless propose to " stop" nowhere short of their 
 avowed end; which, as all English people know, or 
 may know, consists in putting a check upon the 
 power of the Czar in the South of Europe. Whether 
 this be accomplished by driving Russia out of the 
 Crimea, or by destroying her Baltic fortresses, or by 
 gradually exhausting licr resources, is not material. 
 We shall assault and batter her in every way in 
 which our armies and fleets can be employed to 
 cripple and injure an enemy, with the view to compel 
 her to accept such conditions of peace as the Western 
 Powers deem available to the declared purpose, — 
 namely, tlie prevention of aggressive acts towards 
 Turkey, as well in Asia as on the Continent of 
 Europe. 
 
 Thus much for the avowed aims and ends of this 
 gigantic war. Now, then, I would beg to inquire 
 who are the parties most interested in keeping Russia 
 out of Turkey? Is it not the Turks themselves, who 
 have in fact shown that they are able and willing to 
 
THE WAR FROM AN UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW. 247 
 
 repel Russian invaders? They repulsed the Russians 
 on the Danube, forcing them to retire, after a series 
 of defeats, beyond the Pruth: and has not Omar 
 Pasha beaten them at Ingour; and has not the army 
 of General Mouravieff received a complete discom- 
 fiture by Turkish troops before Kars? If I am told 
 that the repulse of the Russians may prove merely a 
 temporary advantage, and that, without foreign 
 assistance, Turkey will after no long interval succumb 
 to renewed attacks, I rejoin, that it is not competent 
 for a nation to go to war simply because she regards 
 some other nation as likely to grow too formidable. 
 If Russia has designs upon Constantinople, it would 
 be easy for the Western Powers to ^^'atch her, and 
 to furnish Turkey with means and appliances 
 calculated to defeat such designs. That is, supposing 
 it of vital importance that Turkey ishould be upheld 
 in her integrity; a point which I will concede, if 
 only for the sake of following out the views of the 
 AVar party and canvassing their merits. 
 
 Now, having conceded this, I will pursue the 
 inquiry as to what European peoples, apart from the 
 Turkish, are interested in preserving the dominions 
 of the Sultan intact. Is it the Jewish or Christian 
 subjects of the Sultan? I doubt it. The majority 
 of the subjects of Turkey in Europe feel no attach- 
 ment to the Porte, by whose officials they are 
 oppressed and insulted, and treated as inferior beings. 
 Surely the example of Russian rule, as exhibited 
 under the mild, just, and prosperous government of 
 Prince Woronzow over South Russia, for the last 
 nine years, up to 1854, must have had its effect in 
 disposing those various races — over whom the Sultan 
 
248 THE WAR FROM AN 
 
 reigns equally with Turks proper — to regard the 
 advent of the Russians as anything but a misfortune. 
 And, to say the truth, all impartial lookers-on must 
 confess that the administration of which Odessa is the 
 head-quarters offers a pleasing contrast to that of the 
 IMahometan prince. Lord Stanley, with much frank- 
 ness, recently exclaimed, " God forbid we should be 
 fighting for Mahometanism !" Taken on its own 
 merits, no humane Englishman ought to do so. But 
 neither would I have him fi2;ht to exterminate Mussul- 
 men, as such. The Mahometan creed is there, with 
 all its attributes, and its civil disabilities as enforced 
 against such of the subjects of the Porte as profess 
 Christianity, — a dismal spectacle enough for an 
 European, certainly, but one which is conveniently 
 lost sight of when we talk of " fighting for the inde- 
 pendence and civilization of nations," as is now 
 commonly done at our public dinners and meetings 
 in England. 
 
 In calling the attention of a warlike friend to these 
 inconsistencies on our parts, he replied, "Yes, I allow 
 that to uphold the actual regime in Turkey would 
 not, properly speaking, appear to be promoting the 
 civilization and independence we talk so much about : 
 but, 3'OU see, we intend to press humane and equit- 
 able changes upon that Government; changes calcu- 
 lated to strengthen its hold upon the various fractions 
 of its subjects, and to improve its internal position." 
 
 Now to the force of this plea I demur, on two 
 grounds. Firstl}^, because I conceive that the real 
 power of the Sultan would not be reinforced, but 
 rather the contrary, by letting in the Christian 
 element, thereby arousing violent jealousy in the 
 
UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW. 249 
 
 minds of " the faithful ;" secondly, because I would 
 deprecate interference with the interior administration 
 of another country, on principle. Furthermore, it is 
 exceedingly probable that the interests of Russia 
 would be promoted by placing members of the Greek 
 Church in situations of influence and authority in 
 Turkey. What more natural than that the religious 
 affinity which subsists between the Russians and the 
 inhabitants of some of the fairest provinces on the 
 Danube should operate in favour of the protector and 
 head of that particular section of Christian believers? 
 I cannot, therefore, help concluding that the Porte 
 would lose rather than gain, by relaxing their actual 
 political disabilities, and admitting Greek Christians 
 to official charo^es. 
 
 If, indeed, the national sentiment of England were 
 sincerely bent upon enforcing humane and civilized 
 government upon a neighbour for its own sake, we 
 need not travel so far to find a fit occasion for dis- 
 playing that sentiment. An ample field presents, 
 itself in the South of Europe, where two peoples, 
 highly favoured by nature, inhabiting two countries) 
 each capable of bearing all kind of fruitful produce, 
 lie, people and land, beneath a withering, baleful 
 despotism, which excites the pity and arouses the ire 
 of all generous beholders. If we must go forth to 
 redress the wrongs of suffering fellow men, by all 
 means let us have a crusade to the shores of Parthe- 
 nope and to the city seated on the seven hills ! 
 
 But no : one of these odious despots is under the 
 special protection of our supposed German ally; the 
 other, under that of a power whose aid we are unable 
 to dispense with in the prosecution of the present 
 
250 THE WAR FROM AN 
 
 war. Let us then drop the flimsy pretence of ii 
 chivalrous purpose, and avow that the real motives 
 for attackinc: Russia lie in the alarm we feel lest she 
 should stretch her dominion, first towards Egypt, 
 and next towards the frontier of Caubul, and so, 
 doubly threaten the possessions — I might perhaps 
 say the ill-gotten possessions — of Great Britain in 
 Asia. Clearsighted Frenchmen are perfectly aware 
 that these fears constitute, with us, the impelling 
 causes of the war. " We understand them," said M. 
 de L. to me in May last; "and we accordingly do 
 not wonder at the extravagant homage which you 
 islanders lavish on our master,* since he lends you 
 powerful armies to fight your battles ; for yours they 
 unquestionably are, and not ours." "Well," I 
 replied, " if he does so, he doubtless finds his account 
 in it." " True," rejoined M. de L,, " he does so find 
 it; but France has not the slightest interest in this 
 conflict. She ought rather to wish for the mainte- 
 nance than the destruction of a maritime power 
 capable of holding your domineering navy in check 
 in the Mediterranean : and then France has no 
 Oriental conquests to defend. But Louis Napoleon 
 was glad to enter into alliance with a first-rate Euro- 
 pean power, on any terms. Your Court alone, on the 
 occasion of the coiq:) d'etat^ manifested a disposition to 
 recognise him and his dynasty; and in return, he has 
 expended freely, for English objects, the blood and 
 treasure of his helpless subjects. The French have, 
 
 * It is rare to Lear Frenclimcu of any class use the words Emperor, 
 Sovereign, or Monarch, in reference to their present ruler. Tliey 
 habitually say " celui-ci," or " notrc monsieur," and sometimes "notre 
 maitre — seldom " Louis Napoleon" even. 
 
UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW. 251 
 
 it is true, always a certain relish for war; being, as 
 we ourselves say, born hatailleurs ; and since, pro- 
 bably, this contest will, sooner or later, bring sonic 
 territorial advantage with it to France, it may tend 
 to popularize the present reign : and military enter- 
 prises being, as I have observed, the favourite voca- 
 tion of the French, it suits the personal motives of 
 Louis Napoleon to carry on some such ; for, whilst 
 the public is excited by prodigious external opera- 
 tions, plots and factions at home are, in a manner, 
 hushed and shelved, and the national vanity overrides 
 all other feelings." " All that you say may be well 
 founded," I said, " but, somehow or another, it seems 
 to me that you Frenchmen act as if you believed, 
 along with my countrymen, in the generous aims wc 
 talk of?" "Not so," answered M. de L.; "we/v/A^, 
 as you have commonly done, equally well without a 
 good cause as with one ; we have, however, no voice 
 in the matter. Our present ruler consults only his 
 own will, and disposes of his subjects' life and pro- 
 perty with quite as little concern for what they wish 
 or feel, as does the ruler of that nation whom he 
 proposes to advance in ' civilization' and ' indepen- 
 dence,' — after the mode of the old saying, ' lucus a 
 non lucendo,' I presume." 
 
 Having disposed of the false pretences on which the 
 war was undertaken, I propose, in another letter, to 
 consider the real objects; the importance of which, to 
 England, I am far from denying, whilst I regret to 
 think them uncertain of attainment. 
 
252 THE WAR FROM AN 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 December, 1855. 
 Sir, — 111 my first letter, it was sought to prove that 
 the " flourisli" about upholding the independence and 
 civilization of other nations was a mere pretence ; that 
 the sole purpose in view was, and is, the keeping 
 Constantinople out of the hands of Russia, whilst at 
 the same time the permanence of Turkish rule is 
 obviously becoming less and less an object of solici- 
 tude. In fact, after the Turk has allowed foreign 
 armies to come and occupy his capital and to fight 
 his battles, it is pretty certain that the prestige of his 
 authority must have undergone so great a diminution 
 at home, that the disaffected portion of Turkey in 
 Europe is likely to become troublesome, and will 
 probably be disposed to throw off the Mussulman yoke 
 at the earliest opportunity. 
 
 Then will commence a process, for anticipating the 
 occasion of whicii much obloquy has been cast upon 
 the late Emperor Nicholas. The dominions of the 
 Sultan must be "rearranged;" we shall have helped 
 " the sick man" to repel his danger so effectively that 
 he himself will be destroyed in the struggle. For, 
 supposing that a cessation of hostilities should be 
 brought about by Russia's consenting to lessen her 
 maritime force in the Black Sea, and by her cove- 
 nanting to respect the " independence of Turkey" — 
 politically speaking — I must take leave to doubt the 
 Czar's disposition to observe the engagement any 
 longer than he finds it enforced by the attitude of the 
 
UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW. 253 
 
 Western Powers. Therefore Turkey must either be 
 left to be attaekecl and subdued at a later day, or the 
 Western Powers must " occupy" the territory ; and 
 what, I beg to inquire, Avill this be, except taking 
 possession of the " heritage du malade?" 
 
 Again, I hold it to be a serious difficulty in the 
 way of such a proceeding, that the population of 
 Turkey, whether Mussulman or Christian, feels averse 
 to the religious creed professed by France and England. 
 It is true that small account is ever taken of the 
 feelings of a conquered and ignorant people, or of the 
 preference they may entertain for this or that ruler 
 by their invaders : but in the case of the Romaic races, 
 and others, spread over that vast tract of country, 
 any discontent which might exist would be fomented, 
 and possibly fanned into active resistance, by the 
 powerful neighbour who possesses a spiritual affinity 
 and headship over these people. The whole body of 
 Greek priesthood even now work heartily in favour of 
 Russian ascendancy ; and we all know how potent an 
 engine sectarian influence is with half-educated minds, 
 (and, indeed, over full^^-educated ones, for that 
 matter,) and how difficult it would be for us to cope 
 with this advantaire. 
 
 o 
 
 I regard the maintenance of the Turkisli rule, in 
 short, as out of the question, let this war end when it 
 may. And it is not easy to speculate on the mode of 
 replacing that rule, otherwise than by, as usual, 
 clapping a foreign King upon the throne. We have 
 heard it whispered that the Duke of Cambridge might, 
 if inclined, play a bold stroke for a crown, and be 
 enthroned as sovereign of the Danubian Principalities 
 — which, indeed, might hereafter lead to his establish- 
 
254 THE WAR FROM AN 
 
 ment as king over Turkey also. Far be it from me 
 to entertain any repugnance to a contingency pro- 
 mising so much advantage to a fine country and to 
 well-disposed industrious peoples; but it would 
 scarcely find favour in the eyes of France. No doubt 
 Austria must be compelled to relinquish the " occu- 
 pation," and to waiveher pretensions to the exclusive 
 right of watching over the navigation of the Danube. 
 She has acted so equivocal a part all through the 
 dispute with Russia, that it would be no very harsh 
 measure on our side were we to refuse to let her 
 exercise any authority over the Principalities in time 
 to come. France will in all likelihood expect to 
 receive some advantage from the " settling" of the 
 aftairs of Turkey; and nothing would suit the em- 
 peror better than to establish a military post on the 
 Bosphorus, such as might constitute the nucleus of a 
 future empire, and meantime enable him to push his 
 advantages in a thousand ways in the East : and for 
 an opening such as this, the French people would 
 have cause to feel really grateful to their sovereign. 
 
 Now, sir, if these vaticinations have any reason- 
 able basis, you must perceive Avhat a perplexing tissue 
 of consequences connects itself with their fulfilment. 
 It is not to be expected that Austria should quietly 
 look on and allow France and England to erect them- 
 selves into " executors and assigns" of the expiring 
 state. We must not pass over the liostility which 
 would animate the Court of King Otho, or the general 
 aversion with which French ascendancy would be 
 regarded ; though that nation has contrived to earn a 
 reputation for abusing it wherever it has been planted. 
 But I look chiefly to the opposition of Austria, which 
 
UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW. 255 
 
 might, not unnaturally, end in her making common 
 cause with Russia. 
 
 In any case, mucli embarrassment will attend the 
 ultimate distribution of those countries. The inha- 
 bitants of ]\[oldavia and Wallachia, I have reason to 
 believe, would prefer to fall under Russian rule rather 
 than under Austrian. Perhaps the simplest way out 
 of this dilemma would be, to let those peoples choose 
 a Government for themselves. Will the Allies accept 
 so humiliating a solution ? I fear not. 
 
 Conversing with a German friend lately (not an 
 Austi'ian) on these thorny questions, he remarked, 
 " Settle the Turkish succession as you will, we 
 Germans can never approve your course. If you give 
 advantages to Austria, we shall all condemn the deci- 
 sion of the Allies. If you augment the power and 
 credit of France, the sentiment will be little less 
 acrimonious. What renders Germany (and I always 
 include kings and subjects in the word) so apathetic 
 about this contest, is, first, the feeling of deep hatred 
 towards the French, (for which, God knows, ample 
 ground exists!) and secondly, a cold, jealous distrust 
 of England. AVhen any one of our numerous states 
 has attempted to better its political condition by 
 resistance to misrule, the Government of England has 
 thrown cold water upon its efforts. In 1848, your 
 tlien Forei2:n Minister went so far as to use menacino- 
 language towards the patriotic few who strove to kindle 
 public spirit and effect needful reforms. England is, 
 in truth, never found on the side of peoples^ but 
 always casts her weight into the opposite scale. And, 
 I tell you plainly, ice fear France quite as much or 
 more than Russia, and wonder how you can fail to 
 
25G THE WAR FROM AN 
 
 fipprehend danger from her stupendous military orga- 
 nization; connected as it is with anti-social passions, 
 an unscrupulous government, and an overweening 
 national vanity." "I agree with you," said I, "in 
 rec'ardin": France with uneasiness: but you must 
 observe that she can only send armies to the south of 
 Europe, or into Asia, on shipboard ; which insures to 
 England a certain control over her movements by 
 reason of our naval superiority — whilst Russia can 
 pour down her hosts, landwards, into Bulgaria, or into 
 Syria and Egypt." " Well, but what do you say to 
 Cherbourg?" rejoined my Wirtemburgher friend; 
 " look at that splendid port, with its vast docks and 
 arsenal, and couple these with their propinquity to your 
 shores! Why, the money expended on Cherbourg, 
 during the last forty or fifty years, far exceeds in 
 amount the outlay upon Sebastopol!" "Yes," I 
 answered, " the rise and expansion of Cherbourg is, 
 beyond question, a formidable fact. But the English 
 seldom look far forward; they always adapt their 
 national policy and measures to circumstances as they 
 arise. We happen to be on friendly, nay, on loving 
 terms with the French emperor just now; so John 
 Bull takes little heed of what changes may by and by 
 supervene. Before this hot friendship sprang up 
 (from motives which were sketched out in my former 
 communication,) we really icere alarmed lest Louis 
 Napoleon should come over and ravage our defenceless 
 cities and lands, if he did no more. But these fears 
 were dissipated by a sudden gust of nuitual interest, 
 and we went off to the East together." " Your 
 interests," said my interlocutor, " are more commer- 
 cial than anything else. Y"ou want to have ' the 
 
UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW. 257 
 
 run' of the Black Sea with all its immense supplies, 
 and also to keep the Red Sea passage open for your 
 Indian trade." " Exactly so," I retorted; "but why 
 we should not be able to trade in the Black Sea, 
 equally under Russian as under Turkish rule, I am 
 at a loss to guess. Russia is more indebted to her 
 commerce than to any other source for her increased 
 importance, and the English are, perhaps, about her 
 best customers." "Well, but you are not sure of 
 Egypt continuing unmolested, if Russia should grasp 
 the parent state," said the German. " Agreed," I 
 replied; " but if we could defend Egypt successfully 
 against France, what is to make us incapable of 
 defending it against Russia?" 
 
 Englishmen really talk about the " designs of the 
 Czar" as something which it would be vain to gain- 
 say, — as though we, and every one else, would be 
 easily beaten out of every possession which he might 
 think fit to attack ! No more talk of Eng-land's mae:- 
 nificent ships or floating batteries, of her gallant 
 soldiers, of her admirable artillery, from the instant 
 Russia is named as a possible assailant. Yet the 
 Times is perpetually putting forward the superiority 
 of the Western armies in open conflict, and adducing 
 the victories over Russian troops by even Turkish 
 arms, as evidence how little she is to be dreaded 
 as an attackhig foe. For my part, I see even 
 less difficulty in barring out Russia from Egypt, 
 should she make the essay, than in keeping her 
 out of Turkey. And granting that she might get 
 possession of Egypt, — which, however, is a mon- 
 strous hypothesis, — she Avould never find it her 
 interest to isolate that country from European 
 
258 THE WAR FROM AN UNPOPULAR POINT OF VIEW. 
 
 commerce; her principal object being to enrich her 
 people. 
 
 I conclude my long disquisition by repeating, that 
 the real objects of this ruinous war seem to me as 
 disproportionate to the sacrifices it involves, and as 
 little calculated to realize tangible benefits to Great 
 Britain, as any war which could in these times be 
 undertaken. The avowed purposes* are a sham ; the 
 real motives are the offspring of a timorous panic 
 and delusion, reflecting small honour upon English 
 dignity and self-reliance. 
 
 * Id est, the desire to uphold " civilization and the independence of 
 nations," 
 
AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 
 
 24tli August, 1857. 
 
 Few of the counties of England would seem to offer 
 less attraction to tourists than the agricultural 
 district of Buckinghamshire; nevertheless, a ramble 
 through its well-cultivated farms and truly primitive 
 villages is not without interest to those who can take 
 pleasure in rural scenery not unmixed with anti- 
 quarian features. Such an excursion the writer 
 lately made, starting from Chalfont St. Giles, im- 
 mortalized by having been for a time inhabited by 
 John Milton, during the plague of London in 1666. 
 Passing through the cheerful little town of Amersham, 
 you come to Shardeloes, the residence of Mr. Drake, 
 delightfully situate on rising ground, which is clothed 
 with noble timber for some distance, the valley below 
 being watered by the stream of the Misbourne, here 
 collected into a somewhat extensive lake. Great 
 Missenden is an ordinary country village nestled 
 between the hills: soon after quitting which, we 
 opened upon the Chiltern Hills, a chalk range run- 
 ning South-west and North-east, and forming the 
 lower boundary of the Yale of Aylesbury. The 
 little town of Wendover appeared the very abode of 
 dulness, as we quietly entered it between five and six 
 in the evening of a beautiful summer's day. Hardly 
 a human being was visible, harvest-time having 
 emptied the dwellings even to the children, who are 
 useful in the general work of " leasing," or gleaning, 
 
 s 2 
 
260 AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 
 
 in the wheat stubbles. This solitude and repose was, 
 however, anything but unwelcome; for the weather 
 was delightful, and the landscape truly English. The 
 church, embosomed in trees; the fields around richly 
 studded with sheaves of corn; the cattle at graze; 
 and the hills tufted with shrubs, box, juniper, and the 
 like, — altogether it was a scene at once cheerful, 
 attractive, and picturesque. From this to Aylesbury 
 nothing interesting, save to the farmer. From 
 Aylesbury (a thriving country-town,) we took the 
 Buckingham road for five miles, diverging to the left, 
 intending to visit the village of Oving, where there is 
 a fine old seat of the Aubreys: but the road being 
 intricate we took a wrong turn, and found ourselves 
 at another village, which on inquiry we learnt was 
 North Marston. 
 
 ^rethought the cliurch appeared worthy of a visit ; 
 accordingly we ascended the hill on which it stands. 
 Some urchins, who ran after us ofi'ering to hold our 
 horse, went and fetched the cottager woman who kept 
 " the kay of the church." On entering, I was 
 surprised to perceive a very handsome painted glass 
 window, evidently of recent date : a substantial oaken 
 ceiling, with pendants and roses, carved seats, com- 
 munion-tablets, handsomely fitted; everything neat 
 and well cared for. The exterior oiFered unusual 
 architectural beauty, the nave being decorated with 
 numerous Gothic pinnacles. I expressed to the good 
 woman, our conductress, my wonder at all this, and 
 asked who had embellished this church. 
 
 Woman — "The Queen, to be sure." 
 
 Traveller — " The Queen ! what could she have to 
 do with it?" 
 
AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 261 
 
 Woman — " Why, a precious good deal, I'se warrant. 
 Did ye never hear of one John Camden Xeild — a 
 great miser — what left all his money and his lands to 
 the Queen?" 
 
 Traveller — " Well, I think I do recollect, some few 
 years back, hearing of a great legacy which had been 
 left to the Queen. Was it about here that the lands 
 lay?" 
 
 Woman — "Aye, sure! Mr. Neild owned ever so 
 many farms round about this here place." 
 
 Traveller — "Had he any residence in the village?" 
 
 Woman — " Xo : he used to come and dra' his rents 
 his own self, and then he stopped with one of his 
 tenants, handy here : he lived very close, and had 
 saved up millions of money." 
 
 Traveller — " Millions ! that's not to be believed. I 
 thought I heard that what he left to the Queen was 
 about a hundred thousand pounds, or there-away." 
 
 Woman — " Lor blessy ! 'twas ever so much more 
 nor that." 
 
 Traveller — " I can't think it, somehow." 
 
 Woman — (looking embarrassed) — " Well, how 
 much is a million?" 
 
 Traveller — "Why, a million is ten hundred thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 Woman — (with a gesture of impatience, and pro- 
 ceeding to open an inner door) — " Ah ! he'd more nor 
 that round here away, let alone other places." 
 
 Over the communion-table, and under the hand- 
 some window I have mentioned, is an inscription in 
 old English characters painted on a gold ground in 
 memory of the testator, John Camden Neild ; placed 
 there by order of the Queen. 
 
262 AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 
 
 Proceeding about two miles fartlicr, I reached the 
 village of Granborough, with a little plain church, 
 its cottages scattered in clusters, and offering indu- 
 bitable indications of comfort and decent habits in 
 the residents. The harvest had caused the cottages 
 to be deserted by their owners; a few children (and 
 those healthy and well fed) being the only living 
 things to be seen. At Granborough I halted for 
 refreshment ; finding, by good luck, what has of late 
 years become but too rare, a jug of genuine home- 
 brewed beer. The landlord and his dame, full of 
 civility, produced all that their humble house 
 aftorded; and both I and my horse left the spot with 
 renewed energies. Our road to Steeple Claydon lay 
 through pasturage enclosures, the gates of which were 
 many and tedious to open. Passing through the 
 grounds of Sir Harry Verncy, Bart., M.P., we stopped 
 to look at the Church of Middle Claydon, which adjoins 
 his time-honoured mansion, formerly the seat of the 
 ancient family of Chaloner : the park is enlivened by 
 a sheet of water, and is well timbered. Mounting a 
 neighbouring hill, I found myself at Steeple-Claydon, 
 — a place interesting to me on account of my rela- 
 tionship with this family of Chaloner, many members 
 of which lie buried within the precincts of its simple, 
 unpretending church. The village is delightfully 
 situate on high ground, with extensive views over 
 the country on all sides. Nothhig can be more agree- 
 able to look upon than the cottages and farm-houses 
 of Steeple Claydon. A few flaring flowers ornament 
 most of them in front, while abundance of vegetable 
 produce lies behind. Everything denotes the pre- 
 siding influence of a considerate "squire" and a 
 
AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 263 
 
 benevolent parson. On the western declivity of the 
 liill I found a school-house of elegant desio-n, rebuilt 
 on the site of the old school, for the reception of the 
 infant children of the neighbourhood, by Sir Harry 
 Yerney. With that reverence for bygone generous 
 deeds which characterizes all cultivated minds. Sir 
 Harry has caused the memor}' of the original founder 
 to be preserved ; the escutcheon of a Chaloner, carved 
 in stone, being still in its place over the porch, the 
 only part of the original building which remains. On 
 the brow of the hill is a " vallum," of considerable 
 depth and width, with a mound, where Oliver Crom- 
 well, it is credibly affirmed, encamped during his 
 campaign against the King's forces in this county. 
 Sir Harry Verney has placed a brass inscription in a 
 wall hard by, in order to keep alive the tradition 
 concerning this interesting incident. In the chancel 
 of the church at Steeple Claydon is a mural tablet to 
 the memory of an Edward Chaloner, one of whose 
 ancestors* the tablet records as having been knighted 
 by the Protector of King Edward the Sixth, and by 
 Queen Elizabeth sent ambassador to the Emperor 
 Eerdinand and to Philip the Second King of Spain. 
 
 Quitting this pleasant spot, not without regret, I 
 descended into the plain, and, by a sequestered track 
 of a purely agricultural character, passed through the 
 villages of Edgcott and Grendon-Underwood (the 
 latter boasting a handsome and picturesque church), 
 and, traversing for a short space the " Akeman way," 
 one of the early Saxon highways, I came to Ludger- 
 shall, having a most primitive-looking parsonage- 
 house, seated on an eminence; thence, through pas- 
 
 * Sir Thomas Chaloner. 
 
264 AN ENGLISH EAMBLE. 
 
 ture-fiekls and enclosures, to Brill — a small town 
 somewhat singularly placed, on the summit of a lofty 
 ridge some 300 feet or more above the level of the 
 surrounding country. 
 
 Tliis place was formerly the centre of a district 
 called Birnwode forest, resorted to by several of our 
 Plantagenet Kings for the purpose of hunting. King 
 John, Henry tlie Second, and Edward the Third, 
 spent much time here. From several points in the 
 immediate vicinity of the church, most delightful and 
 commanding views are obtained. The wooded resi- 
 dence and park of the Marquis of Chandos, Wotton 
 House, lies immediately under the ridge, to the 
 North ; whilst beyond it stretch away for many miles, 
 the productive farms and comfortable shaded home- 
 steads of this rich and favoured county. But little 
 remains of the once extensive forest by which this 
 district was formerly covered. A grove of lofty trees, 
 close to the town, appears to be tlie sole remnant of 
 its departed glory. 
 
 Early on the morrow I descended from my 
 " monticule," on the South-Avest side, bent upon 
 finding the way to the site of an edifice of ancient 
 date, historically interesting by its having stood a 
 siege of a fortnight's duration, by the Parliament 
 forces under General Fairflxx, in 1645; Boarstall 
 House, at tliat time belonging to Lady Dynham, 
 being successfully defended by Sir William Campion. 
 A pleasant drive of some three miles brought me to 
 the spot, now a rural solitude, once animated with 
 active and opulent feudal existence. The Gate 
 House, with its four massive towers, yet stands, and 
 in its pristine form, only shorn of its portcullis and 
 
AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 265 
 
 drawbridge; a striking picturesque monument of 
 mediaeval taste. It is confidently affirmed to have 
 been erected in the reign of Edward the First, about 
 the year 1324; John de Handlo, the lord of the 
 domain, having obtained licence from the King to 
 "fortify his mansion at Boarstall, and make a castle 
 of it" — so ran the edict.* Three sides of the deep 
 moat are yet open, and full of water; and one solitary 
 secular tree (an elm) stands within its enclosure, 
 sole survivor of many hundred oaks and elms which, 
 no longer ago than the year 1810, surrounded this 
 ancient feudal castle. 
 
 The woman who now resides in the Gate House 
 recounted to me the following particulars. " My 
 grandmother," said she, " lived and died here. She 
 died about thirty years ago, when she was eighty- 
 seven. I remember her very well, and have often 
 heard her tell about the old house, and about the 
 family of Aubrey. The ' great house,' she said, stood 
 upon a deal of ground, and had prim gardens, and 
 trees set in rows, with clipped hedges; and there were 
 very noble rooms in the mansion. The late Sir 
 Thomas Aubrey inherited a large part of Sir John 
 Aubrey's estates. He died, like his uncle, at a great 
 age. My grandmother remembered the forest being 
 so thick all round Boarstall that you could not see the 
 house until you came quite close upon it. Sir John 
 Aubrey had, by his first wife, a son, who about the age 
 of six or seven years came to an untimely death- 
 
 • [The property came, by inheritance, to the family of Aubrey, about 
 one hundred and fifty years since ; the hist male descendant of which, 
 Sir Thomas Aubrey, dying not more than a year ago, without children, 
 the estates devolved upon a lady (married to Mr. Eicketts), the next 
 in blood, residing at Dorton House.] 
 
266 AN ENGLISH KAMBLE. 
 
 His nurse having giving the child a little medicine, 
 wished that he should afterwards take some gruel. 
 To make this gruel, she used some oatmeal which she 
 found in one of the cupboards in the Gate House, 
 where the kitchen was situate. It unfortunately 
 turned out that this oatmeal had had arsenic mixed 
 with it. The child at first refused to swallow 
 the gruel, saying it was nasty ; on wliicli the nurse 
 added some sugar, and thus the child was induced to 
 eat it up. The poor boy died within three hours of 
 this fatal mistake being committed. My grandmother 
 saw the child when it was dying : it was a fine little 
 boy, and the nurse had like to have gone out of her 
 mind with grief. Lady Aubrey, the boy's mother, 
 took on sadly, and after a few months died of a 
 broken heart. The widower, anxious for an heir, 
 married, after a while, another lady; but she bore 
 him no child." 
 
 Sir John began to pull down the great house about 
 eighty years ago, carting the stone and other 
 materials away to enlarge Dorton House wdthal; 
 originally a structure of the Tudor age, which it 
 took him many years to complete. It is situate 
 about a mile and a half East of Brill, nearly at 
 the bottom of the slope, and in the immediate 
 vicinity of a somewhat remarkable medicinal 
 spring of a strong chalybeate quality. Sir Thomas 
 Aubrey, on coming to the property, somewhere 
 about thirty years ago, set about cutting doAvn the 
 fine forest which surrounded the site of Boarstall 
 House. There were many trees of such bulk and 
 value as to fetch the sum of 16/. per stick. The 
 estimate made by the inhabitants was, that he had 
 
AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 267 
 
 cut down over 1500 timber-trees. As Sir Thomas 
 Aubrey did not inherit the Dorton estates, (which 
 were left to Mrs. Ricketts,) it was surmised that this 
 wholesale destruction of the Boarstall timber was 
 prompted by an unworthy feeling of jealousy; the 
 Boarstall estates being destined to pass to Mrs. 
 Ricketts and her heirs, in default of Sir Thomas 
 leaving a son. 
 
 After making a leisurely inspection of this inte- 
 resting relic of the fourteenth century, I returned 
 to Brill; whence, passing by the spa or mineral 
 spring mentioned above, and close to Dorton House, 
 I reascended by a steep path to the pleasant village 
 of Chilton. It would be diificult to point out a more 
 charming drive. On each side of the ridge an exten- 
 sive view is enjoyed ; whilst on gently descending into 
 the village, the road is overarched by umbrageous 
 trees, and the ancient manor-house and handsome 
 church, in close proximity, are shaded by a grove of 
 magnificent elms. 
 
 After leavins: Chilton, the road sinks down into 
 the valley of the Thames ; and, passing through the 
 town of Thame, we followed a dull level line of 
 country to Prince's Risborough, a neat little town 
 nestled at the base of the Chiltern range. Ourselves 
 and horse standing in great need of sustentation, we 
 alighted at what was dignified by the title of the 
 "head inn" of the place; and, after seeing the good 
 horse cared for, opened the subject of dinner with the 
 landlady. Traveller — "What have you got in the 
 house, mistress ?" Landlady — " Mighty little, I'm 
 afeard." Traveller — " AVell, then, you'd better send 
 out and get us some mutton-chops, or something." 
 
268 AN ENGLISH RAMBLE. 
 
 Landlady — " Oh ! that won't be no use, for there 
 ain't such a thing in the town." Traveller — " How 
 do you know that?" Landlady — '"Cos we've been 
 and tried for some other travellers; and there's ne'er 
 a butcher have got a scrap of meat. Ye see, to- 
 morrow's our market-day ; so they wont kill till the 
 over-night." Traveller — " Well, then, bring out the 
 bread and cheese; you've got tliat^ I suppose ?" 
 Landlady — " Ay, ay, we got that, sure enough !"* 
 
 Towards six o'clock, we jogged on ; passing by the 
 pretty little village of Bradenham, under the hill on 
 which the church of West Wycombe, presenting a 
 striking object, is perched. At its base stands the 
 noble mansion and richly-timbered grounds of Sir 
 Francis Dashwood King, called West Wycombe Park ; 
 than which, few more attractive and interesting seats 
 can be cited. The road hence, to High or Chipping 
 Wycombe, lay through a valley watered by a stream, 
 and ornamented by the wood-crowned heights of 
 AVycombe Abbey, forming a delightful landscape, 
 gilded by the departing rays of a gorgeous sunset. 
 
 Here ends my humble "itinerar3^" May it interest 
 some of your readers who still cherish a love of old 
 English tradition, haunts, and dwellings; albeit my 
 track led neither through romantic nor magnificent 
 scenery. 
 
 * I repeat this prosaic dialogue, to show that frugal habits are slill 
 in fashion among the rural population of England. 
 
POETICAL PIECES. 
 
OF JOHN HAMPDEN. 
 
 OBIT. 1643, 
 
 There appeared in the Morning Chronicle newspaper, 
 about the month of August, 1828, an account of 
 certain proceedings at Great Hampden, Bucks, in 
 which the chief actors were, the late Lord Nugent, 
 and tlie parson of the parish, named (I think) Lovett, 
 or Lovel. The account purported to be furnished by 
 Lord Nugent himself; but many years afterwards, 
 his lordship, becoming in some sort ashamed of the 
 part he had borne in the affair, thought fit (as I have 
 been informed) to deny his participation therein. As 
 an impartial witness, I think it right to prefix to the 
 lines below a short narrative of what came under my 
 knowledge in reference to this transaction, about two 
 years after its occurrence. 
 
 Feeling a deep interest in the personal history and 
 character of John Hampden, my husband and I made 
 a journey to the place where he had lived as an 
 opulent country gentleman, and where his remains 
 were known to lie ; I may not say to repose^ since they 
 had been disturbed by the irreverent curiosity of 
 the parties already named. 
 
 "Whilst halting at a retired alehouse, on a common 
 about a mile distant from Great Hampden house, to 
 refresh our horses, I entered into conversation with 
 the woman who kept it. "Were you living here (I 
 
272 POETICAL riECES. 
 
 asked) when Lord Nugent and his friends had Mr. 
 John Hampden digged up out of his grave ?" 
 
 "Yes, sure; I were up at the church early next 
 morning, and seed the poor gentleman in his coffin. 
 He were stayed up with a shovel, set against his Lack, 
 and he were left so all night." 
 
 "What colour was his hair? did you look well 
 at it?" 
 
 " Yes ; it were a kind of a reddy -brown colour. 
 But there, I can show you some on it, if so be as you 
 cares about him." 
 
 " Why, certainly ; I should be very pleased to do 
 so. But how came you to possess any?" 
 
 " Because I cut some oif his head with my 
 scithers, and I've got it now, up-stairs." 
 
 " Go and fetch it me, then." 
 
 The good woman went, and in a few minutes 
 brought me a shabby piece of paper, containing a 
 small quantity of brown hair. I asked her wliat 
 induced her to cut it from Mr. Hampden's head? She 
 replied that she had been told he was a very great 
 man once upon a time, and so she thought it would 
 be " a remembrance of a famous gentleman." What 
 made him such, she knew not, she said. 
 
 I bore away the precious relic, giving the woman 
 what I thought sufficient in exchange. Pursuing our 
 w\ay to the church, situate almost at the door of the 
 ancient mansion within the walls of v/hich the fore- 
 most members of the " party of resistance" w^ere wont, 
 in 1643, to hold their councils, we soon succeeded in 
 meeting with the parish sexton, who was fetched from 
 his cottage, a short mile from thence. 
 
 After spending some time in the church, looking at 
 
JOHN HAMPDEN. 273 
 
 the monuments of the Hampdens, I asked the sexton 
 wliether he had been concerned in the disinterment 
 of Mr. John Hampden's body, in 1828. 
 
 " I was," answered he ; " and I do not think I ever 
 did anything in all my life of which I so much 
 repented afterwards." 
 
 "Why did you take part in the business?" I 
 inquired. 
 
 " Well, you see, our parson was my master, like, 
 and he told me to take up the paving and go down 
 into the vault, and so I did as I was ordered, with- 
 out thinking; and me and another man fetched up 
 two or three coffins for Lord Nugent and the t'other 
 gentlemen to examine." 
 
 "And you found the coffin at last, wherein John 
 Hampden lay, did you?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 They knew it to be him, the sexton said, by the 
 fact of the right hand being severed from the arm, 
 near the wrist. It lay by the side of the body, and 
 was wrapped in cerecloth, apart from the arm. The 
 body had also cerecloth round it, but the cloth had 
 decayed a good deal. The face was still partly pre- 
 served by the embalming matter, and a small brown 
 moustache could be perceived on the upper lip. The 
 body was that of a well-built man of about five 
 feet eight or nine inches in height ; not that of a tall 
 man. 
 
 When the curiosity of Lord Nugent had been so 
 far gratified as that the actual remains of our dis- 
 tinguished patriot were exposed to his gaze, he pro- 
 ceeded to take still greater liberties with this illus- 
 trious man's bones. The sexton was directed to 
 
 T 
 
274 POETICAL PIECES. 
 
 take his knife and detacli the arm at the shoulder- 
 joint, in order that the party might carry it away to 
 the mansion to examine into the character of tlie 
 fracture, with a view to ascertain whether the muti- 
 lation had been caused by a pistol-bullet, or whether 
 the hand had been amputated by the surgeon. It 
 being well known that Hampden's death was occa- 
 sioned by this wound, received on Chalgrave -field, 
 the question was, had he died of mortification con- 
 sequent on the injury, or had the hand been removed, 
 and some other mortal process such as fever, or 
 perhaps lockjaw, supervened ? 
 
 1 pass over the apologetic explanations Avhich, as I 
 perfectly recollect, accompanied Lord Nugent's recital 
 of the transaction. The question which his Lord- 
 ship appeared so anxious to clear up, seems to me at 
 this date, as it seemed to me in 1828, wholly without 
 historical interest in itself, and as affording not the 
 slightest excuse for invading, after a lapse of near 
 two centuries, the sanctity of the tomb. So thought, 
 indeed, on reflection, the humble instrument of the 
 sacrilege. 
 
 He proceeded to execute the order to separate the 
 arm from the trunk (not Avithout difficulty, he said), 
 and it w^as then taken to the house, there to be more 
 closely inspected. But as the day Avas closing in 
 before these sad operations had been completed, there 
 remained not light enough whereby to replace the 
 h.and in the coffin and restore this to its original 
 position beneath. 
 
 Accordingly, the body (of which the frame still 
 held together, sustained as it was by the cerecloth) 
 was left in the coffin, on the floor of the chancel of 
 
JOHN HAMPDEN. 275 
 
 the church, propped up in a sitting posture, by means 
 of the sexton's shovel; the doors were locked, and all 
 retired to their homes for the night. 
 
 As the sexton walked back over the fields to his 
 cottage his feelings were painfully awakened to a 
 consciousness that he had done disrespect to a great 
 man of yore. " I was so grieved with myself," said 
 this simple-hearted rustic, " that I took and heaved 
 away the clasp-knife as done it among a lot of furze 
 bushes, so as I might never set eyes on the knife 
 more." 
 
 At early dawn on the morrow, the parish clerk and 
 the sexton repaired to the church, into which, so 
 soon as the doors were unfastened, there stole quietly 
 a few of the poor working folk who lived near, chiefly 
 women, the men being understood to go to work by 
 six o'clock. They came to obtain a look at the un- 
 usual spectacle of an exhumed corpse, with a sort of 
 vague curiosit}^, prompted by the instinct Avhich 
 even in ignorant minds invests antiquity with a 
 reverent interest. 
 
 I inquired of the sexton whether he had observed 
 any of the women cutting the hair off the head of 
 the body on the morning in question. " Yes," he 
 answered, " there were one or two whom I saw doing 
 so." I told him I had obtained a small parcel of 
 hair from the woman at the roadside alehouse. 
 "Did he believe A^r to be one of those?" " Yer}^ 
 likely," said the sexton ; " she was here, I do re- 
 member. But do you set any store by the hair, 
 madam? because if you do, I can let you have some 
 which I myself cut off Mr. Hampden's head that same 
 morning." 
 
 T 2 
 
276 POETICAL PIECES. 
 
 " I wish you would go and bring it me," I ex- 
 claimed. Accordingl}', as we had ended our visit to 
 the church, the man returned to his dwelling, and, in 
 half-an-hour, brought me back a piece of paper con- 
 taining a portion of hair. On comparing it with that 
 which the good woman had previously given me I 
 found it exactly similar in ever^^ point. 
 
 Persuaded of the identity of my relics, I after- 
 wards caused locks of this hair to be inserted into 
 three or four gold rings, and pins, of which I gave 
 away several to persons who shared my interest in 
 the history of John Hampden, and whom I myself 
 esteemed and admired. Lady Theresa Lewis was of 
 this number, and the gift was accompanied by the 
 lines which follow. I need hardly remind the reader 
 that her ladyship had published a work entitled, 
 ''''Lives of the Contemporaries of Lord Clarendon^^ 
 wherein the events of the civil war, and the conduct 
 of the leading men on both sides, are passed in review 
 with a feeling and conscientious style of treatment. 
 
JOHN HAMPDEN. 277 
 
 TO LADY THERESA LEWIS. 
 
 WITH A RING, 
 IN WHICH WAS ENCLOSED A PORTION OF JOHN HAMPDEN'S HAIE. 
 
 Lady ! keep and wear this ring, 
 Suggestive of a cherished name ; 
 
 Resistance to a tyrant king, 
 Its passport to enduring fame. 
 
 For relic of those stirring days 
 
 No fitter shrine than thy fair hand, 
 
 Which late hath shed historic rays 
 On heroes of our native land. 
 
 What though thy fondest eulogies 
 Descend on loyal Falkland's head. 
 
 With no scant measure canst thou praise 
 Th' opposing band, by Hampden led. 
 
 'Tis sweet to wander through the maze 
 With guide deserving of our trust ; 
 
 With thee to learn, from bygone days. 
 That first of lessons — to be just. 
 
 For thou hast held the lamp before 
 A page of England's chivalry ; 
 
 Retouched the hues of fading lore, 
 And brightened each sad memory. 
 
 Then speed the work — a task of love, 
 To which thy heart inspired thy pen, 
 
 And wake the names of those who strove 
 In holy cause, to live again ! 
 
278 POETICAL PIECES. 
 
 FELIX MENDELSSOHN. 
 
 OBIT. NOV. 1847. 
 
 Felix Mendelssohn Bartiioldy paid us a visit at 
 our residence adjoining " Burnham Beeches," in the 
 summer of 1847. Some of his intimate friends were 
 also our guests, and he appeared to enjoy this brief 
 lioliday with ahnost youthful relish. After wander- 
 ing about, one day, in the old forest-like glades till he 
 was well nigh tired with walking, he laid himself 
 down on a green mossy bank, and listened to the 
 sighing of the breeze overhead, blending itself with 
 the many small sounds incident to woodland scenery, 
 till he seemed absorbed in thought. After some 
 little time passed in silence, he said, " I think I 
 could set all this to music !" 
 
 In memory of this illustrious man's visit, I caused 
 a stone to be placed on the spot, and planted flowers 
 and slnaibs around : even protecting the stone by an 
 iron railing. In vain ! the boys of the hamlet, with 
 a horror of vacuity which seems to be common to 
 both man and animal, amused themselves on Sundays, 
 for want of better pastime, with de lacing the lines on 
 the stone,* and breaking off the willow and cypress 
 twigs. I could not make ^lead against such enemies, 
 and after a year or two removed my luunble memorial 
 in despair. 
 
 * Cousistiug of the tliird, foiirtli, autl fifth stanzas. 
 
MENDELSSOHN. 279 
 
 STANZAS ON FELIX MENDELSSOHN 
 
 WEITTEJf Df BUEXHAM BEECHES. JAN. 1S43. 
 
 These ancient groves and solitudes among 
 
 Lately a bright celestial Being strayed ; 
 A brief retreat from out the admiring throng 
 
 He sought and found beneath their leafy shade. 
 
 With careless steps he ranged the forest's maze ; 
 
 Then, resting here a space, his raptured eye 
 He bent upon the scene with thoughtful gaze, 
 
 And bathed his spirit in its poetry. 
 
 To mark the cherished spot which once he pressed, 
 An humble mourner's hand hath raised a stone ; 
 
 For He hath sunk to an eternal rest. 
 
 Untimely parted from his young renown, 
 
 Ere his rich gifts and inspirations bore 
 Their perfect fruit in his creative mind ; 
 
 Ere swelled to flood, in life's meridian hour. 
 The Master's art to bless and charm mankind. 
 
 He stood confessed a genius — yet he scorned 
 
 An Idol's tempting privilege to claim ; 
 The virtues of the Man his course adorned. 
 
 And added lustre to his lyric fame. 
 
 Ah ! Mendelssohn, hadst thou but oftener sought 
 Calm Nature's presence — hadst thou oftener fled 
 
 The incense-offering crowd, and idly caught 
 The summer breeze to fan thy fevered head — 
 
 Haply, e'en now, within its earthly sphere 
 Had beamed the radiance of thy soul divine ; 
 
 And spared had been the unavailing tear, 
 
 Which from a thousand eyehds fails, with mine. 
 
280 POETICAL PIECES. 
 
 LINES TO JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. 
 
 WITH A MEDALLION POETEAIT OP THORWALDSEN. 
 
 Behold the impress of a noble mind ! 
 Genius and native worth in thee combined, 
 Thorwaldsen ! master of creative art, 
 A name embalmed in Scandinavia's heart. 
 I place thine image in a " sister's" hand. 
 For "art" makes brotherhood in every land. 
 
 Great powers both thou and she have wielded here j 
 And both have aimed, in their peculiar sphere, 
 To elevate the soul, and lift the eyes 
 Of mortals to a Avorld beyond the skies. 
 Well may thy lineaments her home adorn. 
 Who, like thyself, to high distinction borne. 
 Now tastes the sweets of freedom and of rest. 
 By love, and by approving conscience blest ! 
 
 May, 1859. 
 
POETICAL PIECES. 281 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY MORE THAN ONE 
 RECENT DOMESTIC HISTORY. 
 
 (written before the divorce court had been established.) 
 
 Full many a sorrowful and tragic tale 
 
 Enfolded lies beneath the semblance frail 
 
 Of wedded harmony and calm content ! 
 
 How oft a heart in aching bosom jjent, 
 
 And careworn thoughts, are borne abroad unseen, 
 
 Veiled in the aspect of a cheerful mien, 
 
 By the sad mourner of a home unblest, 
 
 A faith unhonoured, and a life opprest ! 
 
 Nor man nor woman may escape the pain 
 Which lurks in undiscerning Passion's train. 
 To short-lived joys, a long regret succeeds : 
 But whilst a lesson's taught, the learner bleeds. 
 
 Haply a pure and justly kindled flame 
 
 At Hymen's shrine a happier lot may claim, 
 
 For those who, blest with beauty, health, and grace, 
 
 Seek on those gifts a crowning charm to place, 
 
 And crave a sanction on their promised bliss. 
 
 E'en here will steal — in destiny like this, 
 
 That "bitter drop," which, mortal cup without 
 
 jNIay never mixed be, and turn to nought 
 
 Their glorious inheritance — thence cursed 
 
 With inward canker — of all ills the worst. 
 
 No hand can minister to griefs like these. 
 
 Nor holy science bring the sufferer ease. 
 
 A lengthened martyrdom without rewards, 
 
 Is all that hope permits, or life affords. 
 
282 POETICAL PIECES. 
 
 Man marvels over — pitying as be goes — 
 Th' immense diversity of human woes ; 
 Yet, with short-sighted folly, fails to see 
 How large a share of this vast misery 
 Is due to man's own impious agency. 
 
 So taught the eloquent recluse, Rousseau, 
 In days not quite a century ago ; 
 Whilst in our own, there liveth not a few, 
 Whom woman's wrongs incline to think it true. 
 
 Ask — may the victim of a hasty vow 
 Ne'er seek release nor remedy ? Ah no ! 
 A maiden once enclosed in nuptial ties. 
 Must wear her fetters till she sins or dies ; 
 And suffer as she may, within these bounds. 
 No cure for sorrows and no balm for wounds. 
 No shield for her 'gainst contumely or harm ; 
 Law, that " deaf adder,^' hearkens to no " charm," 
 If suppliant in o. female form presume 
 To claim its aid against unequal doom. 
 
 Yet, surely, she may Hy an unloved mate. 
 
 And find relief in undisturbed retreat ? 
 
 Not so — the law its powerless victim cites 
 
 To forced communion and unwilling rites, 
 
 Which sting with insult ; whilst the loathed caress 
 
 But desecrates the couch it may not bless. 
 
 Such finished torture England's code can boast ; 
 A formal framework, which, at woman's cost. 
 Flings a disguise o'er ruthless tyranny. 
 And drugs men's conscience with a special lie. 
 
 Not the Red Indian on Missouri's shore 
 
 His strength abuses by one fraction more 
 
 Than he who, aided by judicial might, 
 
 Counts as a feather in the balance, right. 
 
 And justice, sighs, tears, prayers, — nay, all beside 
 
 When weighed against his lusts, his will, or pride. 
 
POETICAL PIECES. 283 
 
 Whilst with a ^Yhiae, the felon is set free, 
 And Justice shrinks from her own stern decree, 
 This, our belauded humanizing age, 
 Leaves Avoman prisoned in her " legal" cage : 
 Withholds her heritage, and ties her hand, 
 And bids her live a cypher in the land — 
 A serf in all but mind, yet mocked with show 
 Of gilded chains — poor solace to her woe. 
 
 Say not " Opinion's" force protection sheds 
 
 Around the weaker forais, and weaker heads 
 
 Of women — doth not " Law" itself proclaim 
 
 Their nullity ? Compelling them to frame 
 
 A fiction and contrivance, would they hold 
 
 A portion only of their rightful gold. 
 
 Nay, even this resource no more avails, 
 
 If, after marriage. Fortune's favouring gales 
 
 Should waft them riches ; for behold ! the man 
 
 Seizes the treasure, as " Law" says he can. 
 
 Nor may a woman's industry obtain 
 
 Its honourable guerdon — for again. 
 
 Her husband claims the product as his own : 
 
 And we look on, and ask " Can nought be done ?" 
 
 Thus, since the State directs that woman's fate 
 Should hang upon the " fiat" of her mate, 
 Slight hope that private feeling will assume 
 A juster tone or mitigate her doom. 
 Bereft of rights, she learns to wear her chain ; 
 And seeks, by art, the mastery to gain. 
 Unworthy study, which a juster code 
 Might turn aside, or prompt to nobler good. 
 
 The want of will in man — not want of power, 
 
 Defers redemption to a distant hour. 
 
 Far distant ! for Avhat eye hath seen the strong 
 
 Relieve the weak because he did thera wrong ? 
 
 And, sad to say, the sex itself ne'er yet. 
 
 Its degradation cared to terminate : 
 
284 Til 10 LAW OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 Else had they, long since, risen in the scale 
 Of social honour and domestic weal. 
 With urgent pleadings, couched in modest words, 
 Would wives besiege the conscience of their lords, 
 Nor " bate one jot" till these revised the laws, 
 A sure success might follow for their cause. 
 And, once on fairer ground, be theirs to prove 
 How well a generous confidence can move 
 Their souls to virtue, and their hearts to love ! 
 
 November, 1855. 
 
 Since the above lines were composed, the Legislature 
 have instituted a Court of Divorce. A woman whose 
 husband treats her with cruelty, or can be proved to 
 have committed adultery, is permitted to sue for 
 either a legal separation or a divorce. 
 
 It is likewise competent to a woman to go before 
 a magistrate and swear that her husband has de- 
 serted her for a given period, when the magistrate 
 is empowered to grant the woman a warrant, to 
 secure to her the undisturbed possession of her own 
 earnino's. 
 
 These two changes in the state of the law are re- 
 garded as valuable concessions to the interests of 
 woman. But it requires no great discrimination to 
 perceive that the amount of hardship inflicted by the 
 law of marriage upon the weaker sex, is reduced but 
 by a small amount under the change indicated. 
 
 In the first place, a woman who sues for a divorce 
 must do so at her own expense. Now a married 
 woman is never permitted to touch her own money, 
 even if she has any — the man takes it all. If her 
 
THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 285 
 
 fortune is in trust, the trustees ahva3^s pay the annual 
 interest to the husband. I would ask those best 
 acquainted with such matters, whether a trustee is 
 likely to supply monies to the wife for the purpose of 
 suinsr for a divorce from her husband? 
 
 I need not expatiate on the repugnance which a 
 well-conditioned woman entertains to going before a 
 tribunal at all — especially in the character of an 
 injured wife. We know that women put up with a 
 large measure of harsh usage before they can bring 
 themselves to appeal to the aid of law. Yet having, 
 for cogent reasons, decided on doing so, where is the 
 money to come from? and the least sum required is, 
 I have been informed, one hundred pounds. 
 
 Whilst I admit the institution of a Court of Divorce 
 to be a step towards a mitigation of the injustice 
 under which women labour in this country, I am 
 deeply persuaded of the necessity to superadd another 
 boon, in order to render the first at all effectual. I 
 mean that the woman should possess absolute control 
 over her own property, married or single. Years of 
 attentive observation and reflection have impressed 
 me with the belief that this would afford to women 
 the simplest as well as the most suitable resource 
 against the ill-treatment of a husband. In spite of 
 the extensively held dogma, that a woman ought not 
 to be entrusted with the control over her own pro- 
 perty, because she would of a surety allow her husband 
 to get it from her, I venture to affirm that, having 
 such control she would be better off than she now is, 
 whether under the trustee system, or under the condi- 
 tion of a wife without trustees. 
 
 All that the " Trust" does is to prevent the husband 
 
28G THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 from wasting away his Avife's capital^ after wasting 
 away his own ; at least the portion " under trust," for 
 any otlier portion he is free to waste away. But 
 observe, he continues to receive the income of it, and 
 to spend it as he thinks fit ; the wife has no more 
 control over her own than she had over his money 
 whilst any remained. She has the satisfaction, if such 
 it ])e, of maintaining him, but he has the arrangement 
 of the expenditure, and we know what that comes to 
 in such cases. 
 
 The trustee system is, in fact, a contrivance for 
 keeping a woman in a species of tutelage, under the 
 pretext of protecting her interests. But against 
 whom ? Why, against the individual to whom you 
 confide the woman's happiness, honour, and person 
 for life. He is conceived to be fit for such a trust, or 
 you would not place your daughter in his hands; 
 nevertheless, you put her fortune out of his reach, 
 lest he should strip her of it ! You will reply that 
 circumstances may hereafter arise in which, " being 
 tempted of the devil," the best of husbands will try to 
 coax or coerce his wife into giving over to him her 
 property, and she may be beggared thereby. To this 
 I would rejoin that law takes no cognisance of folly 
 and weakness. If it was not thought right to inter- 
 dict Mr. Wyndham from exercising absolute control 
 over his property, although for foolish, vicious, and 
 discreditable purposes, neither ought the law to 
 prevent a woman from committing the folly of bring- 
 ing herself to want in order to please a spendthrift 
 husband. But if women were brought up to deal with 
 money matters, and to comprehend " business," they 
 would acquire more solid habits of mind and firmness 
 
THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 287 
 
 of character, and tlieir ]:>roperty would not lightly be 
 sacrificed to a misplaced sentiment. Furthermore, it 
 is manifestly unjust to the woman to compel her both 
 to maintain and to live with an unworthy husband, 
 whether she will or no. She ought to be free to 
 leave him, just as he is now free to leave her, when 
 and for as long a time as it pleases him. As the law 
 stands, the luisband can compel her to return to him, 
 to cohabit with him, and probabl}' to undergo the 
 bringing of more children into the world, to share 
 and diminish the pittance which remains to the 
 family. 
 
 In discussing the subject of the rights of property 
 in the married state, people seem to me to contemplate 
 exclusively the condition of the wealthy class. But to 
 those who make it their study to observe the working 
 of the law in the middle ranks of society, it is a familiar 
 fact that, there, the trustee system is, rarely resorted 
 to. There are o-reat difficulties in findins: trustees at 
 once willing and capable among the middle class. 
 Then a settlement involves expense; besides, the 
 wife's money commonly helps the pair to set up in 
 some sort of business, by which a higher return is ob- 
 tained ; indeed the woman would hardly be upheld in 
 refusing to let her property be merged in the common 
 undertakings, and moreover, the husband is, in the 
 majority of cases, a safer manager of it than anj^ 
 " trustee " of his own rank in life. Provincial trades- 
 men seldom have any dealings with funded property. 
 Taking the dividends, too, is inconvenient to rural 
 residents at a distance from London. The savings of 
 maid-servants, indeed, are sometimes invested in the 
 funds, but they usually find some one belonging to a 
 
288 THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 higher class in life to manage their investment, and 
 receive their dividends for them, by virtue of a power 
 of attorney. When such persons marry, they never 
 dream of a "settlement;" they know no suitable 
 person likely to fulfil the obligation. The}'' place 
 full reliance on their future partner, and dislike 
 trusting their concerns to men who have no particular 
 relationship with them. I have known many ex- 
 amples of humble marriages, and in none was there 
 ever a settlement or a trustee provided. I am bound 
 to add that in more than one case the savings of the 
 Avoman have melted away under the mismanagement 
 of the husband ; and, in some others, the husband has 
 left the wife, to follow another woman, taking along 
 with him all that the former had brought him, 
 and over which he acquired, by his marriage, entire 
 control. One case I have now in my mind, where 
 the man, after his marriage with a maid-servant, 
 went and sold out his wife's stock in the Three per 
 Cents (the hard savings of twenty years) and 
 decamped therewith, leaving her positively destitute. 
 By the aid of a friend, who supplied the passage 
 money, this poor woman, past sixty years of age, 
 was enabled to embark for California, where a son 
 by a former marriage, it was expected, would pro- 
 vide for her. But cases of married women being 
 abandoned, after being robbed, are exceedingly com- 
 mon; and the law only protects them in the en- 
 joyment of their own subsequent earnings, when a 
 woman can swear tliat she has not seen her hus- 
 band within a certain time. If he comes back to 
 her, say once a fortnight, he may still seize upon all 
 she has. 
 
THE LAW OY MARRIAGE. 289 
 
 I might expand these observations to an infinite 
 length, were I to permit myself to follow the ramifi- 
 cations of iDJustice which accompany the nullity of 
 a married woman in the eye of the law. For 
 example, cases frequently occur in which original 
 trustees dying, no nev/ ones are appointed, and the 
 husband continues to receive the rents accruing on 
 his wife's estate. I remember one, wherein wife 
 having died many years prior to husband, and trus- 
 tees having died before her, leaving no cognoscible 
 heirs, the husband actually forgot all about the 
 settlement, and bequeathed her property by his will 
 as a portion of his own estate ! It happened that 
 his executors became aware of the existence of the 
 settlement, but not until they had distributed the 
 property as directed, and tlie family were only saved 
 from the calamity of a Chancery suit by a fortunate 
 harmony prevailing among the co-heirs. I could 
 adduce numerous instances in which trustees have 
 either acted negligently or fraudulent!}^; but never 
 have I heard of a trustee paying the wife's annual 
 income to herself during her husband's lifetime. 
 Her money is never at her disposal, whether she 
 behave well or ill, is made happy or miserable. 
 
 As to expecting an alteration in the law, so as to 
 assure equality of rights to both sexes in regard to 
 property, this must depend on the spread of equitable 
 sentiments in the public mind. " AVomen's rights" 
 is nothing but a phrase. They have none, except 
 such as men choose to invest them witli; let women 
 lay this well to heart. But if I were asked from 
 what sources a beneficial change may be expected to 
 proceed, I should specify two, and these are : — 
 
 u 
 
290 THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 1. The augmenting impatience of women under 
 their disabilities; leading them to employ various 
 methods of proclaiming it, and of appealing to what 
 may be termed the conscience of society ; setting forth 
 the painful inequality in which the law places married 
 women, in cases where property is in question, and 
 also in those where unworthy treatment by husbands 
 is endured without a chance of relief. 
 
 2. The sensible increase of the humane, benevolent 
 tendencies in modern communities. Every attentive 
 observer must have taken account of this fact ; we are 
 become more sensitive, more accessible to uneasy im- 
 pressions when the sufferings or misfortunes, nay, 
 even the discomfort of others, are brought under our 
 notice. Most persons feel an impulse to buy off a 
 disagreeable emotion, be it engendered by a mendi- 
 cant, by a tale of woe, by a casual blow of misfortune 
 befalling either individuals or classes, by sympathy 
 with some victim of crime, or even by humane con- 
 siderations as towards the brute creation. This is 
 an age of subscriptions, of testimonials, of endow- 
 ments, of institutions, of efforts, in short, for the miti- 
 gation of every variety of human ills. 
 
 Now, since we are grown so tender-hearted, it is no- 
 wise surprising to find that the swelling gale of sighs 
 and complaints, proceeding from the weaker portion of 
 the community, has found its way to the public ear. 
 The " wrongs of women" have at last awakened a 
 certain number of the stronger sex to a sense of their 
 own want of generosity, and it may be regarded as a 
 feature in the present stage of civilization in England, 
 that the condition of women should lately have taken 
 rank among the topics which engage the serious atten- 
 
THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 291 
 
 tion of thinking persons of both sexes. The debate 
 which took place in the Senate of the London Univer- 
 sity, in May, 1862, as to the admission of women to 
 the test of examination for certificates in some of 
 the departments of learning and science, afibrded a 
 proof that the claim is not repudiated by that 
 eminent body as unbecoming the sex. The Senate 
 divided on the question, and ten members voted on 
 each side. It was not so much because the women 
 were likely to reach any distinction that they sought 
 this privilege, but because it was calculated to pave 
 the way for individual women of energy and talent to 
 earn their living in the educational career. And ten 
 members of the Senate were of opinion that women 
 ought to be allowed to share in the advantages con- 
 ferred by a certificate. 
 
 It is not unusual for men to object to the en- 
 deavours making by women to enlarge the area 
 of their industry, " because," say they, " we do not 
 wish to see them mingling in the race of competi- 
 tion with men. They are far more attractive and 
 interesting when they confine themselves to occupa- 
 tions recognised as suitable to their sex, and do not 
 invade the domain of intellectual labour." 
 
 In reply to such objections, I would simply observe, 
 that we have reached a stage of society in which 
 considerations of taste would seem to be overborne 
 by the difficulty of finding the means of subsistence. 
 Not to speak of the numerical excess of females 
 over males, which is a well known element in the 
 case, I would ask whether the so-called "feminine 
 employments" are not filled to repletion by our 
 women? and whether the fair candidates for emigra- 
 
292 THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 tion, with all its drciwbacks, do not exceed the limit 
 of the funds available for sending them over the 
 seas? The objection made above must therefore 
 yield to the pressure of circumstances, for, even 
 at the heavy cost of losing their attraction in male 
 eyes, women cannot be expected to forego the means 
 of existence, nor, supposing some amongst us to be 
 sufficiently active and enterprising to attack science, 
 and to become professors or physicians, ought they to 
 be denied " a fair field and no favour." If they fail, 
 in consequence, to obtain husbands, that is their 
 affair. Men will, naturally, marry according to 
 their fancy. Leave to women the choice of adapting 
 themselves to the taste of men ; it is not a matter for 
 society to regulate. But I have done with this (to 
 me) disheartening subject, for the present, after 
 adding the remark once made by a distinguished 
 foreign nobleman, to myself, in reference to tlie 
 leading idea of this essay. " There is no country in 
 Europe," said my friend, "in which women are 
 treated with so much injustice as in England, in what 
 regards property." 
 
 Volumes might be written — nay, are written — 
 about the difficulties and grievances of married life ; 
 but I maintain, and shall maintain to the end, that 
 the first of all remedial measures to be sought for by 
 women, and for which they should clamour, beg, and 
 agitate, is " equality of rights over property with the 
 other sex." Although it is not likely that unhappi- 
 ness will ever disappear from conjugal, any more 
 than from single life, yet, viewed as a measure dic- 
 tated by justice, and sanctioned by the practice of 
 European nations, I believe that equal rights over 
 
THE LAW OF MARRIAGE. 293 
 
 property would tend to raise and ameliorate the con- 
 dition of a wife, and, by so much, augment the 
 morality and comfort of the household, to a greater 
 extent than any other change I could point out, likely 
 to find favour with English modes of thought and 
 feeling. 
 
 THE END. 
 
LOlTDOIf: 
 
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