Rural Rides — Rural Ride, from Kensington to Uphusband

WM.

COBBETT.

RURAL RIDE, OF 104 MILES, FROM KENSINGTON TO UPHUSBAND; INCLUDING A RUSTIC HARANGUE AT WINCHESTER, AT A DINNER WITH THE FARMERS, ON THE 28TH SEPTEMBER.

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

, 1822. _ This morning I set off, in rather a drizzling rain, from Kensington, on horseback, accompanied by my son, with an intention of going to Uphusband, near Andover, which is situated in the North West corner of Hampshire.

It is very true that I could have gone to Uphusband by travelling only about 66 miles, and in the space of about eight hours.

But my object was not to see inns and turnpike-roads, but to see the _country_; to see the farmers at home, and to see the labourers in the fields; and to do this you must go either on foot or on horse-back.

With a gig you cannot get about amongst bye-lanes and across fields, through bridle-ways and hunting-gates; and to _tramp it_ is too slow, leaving the labour out of the question, and that is not a trifle.

We went through the turnpike-gate at Kensington, and immediately turned down the lane to our left, proceeded on to Fulham, crossed Putney bridge into Surrey, went over Barnes Common, and then, going on the upper side of Richmond, got again into Middlesex by crossing Richmond bridge.

All Middlesex is _ugly_, notwithstanding the millions upon millions which it is continually sucking up from the rest of the kingdom; and, though the Thames and its meadows now-and-then are seen from the road, the country is not less ugly from Richmond to Chertsey bridge, through Twickenham, Hampton, Sunbury, and Sheperton, than it is elsewhere.

The soil is a gravel at bottom with a black loam at top near the Thames; further back it is a sort of spewy gravel; and the buildings consist generally of tax-eaters' showy, tea-garden-like boxes, and of shabby dwellings of labouring people who, in this part of the country, look to be about half _Saint Giles's_: dirty, and have every appearance of drinking gin.

At Chertsey, where we came into Surrey again, there was a Fair for horses, cattle, and pigs.

I did not see any sheep.

Everything was exceedingly _dull_.

Cart colts, two and three years old, were selling for _less than a third_ of what they sold for in 1813. The cattle were of an inferior description to be sure; but the price was low almost beyond belief.

Cows, which would have sold for 15_l.

_ in 1813, did not get buyers at 3_l.

_ I had no time to inquire much about the pigs, but a man told me that they were dirt-cheap.

Near Chertsey is _Saint Anne's Hill_ and some other pretty spots.

Upon being shown this hill I was put in mind of Mr. Fox; and that brought into my head a grant that he obtained of _Crown lands_ in this neighbourhood, in, I think, 1806. The Duke of York obtained, by Act of Parliament, a much larger grant of these lands, at Oatlands, in 1804, I think it was.

But this was natural enough; this is what would surprise nobody.

Mr. Fox's was another affair; and especially when taken into view with what I am now going to relate.

In 1804 or 1805, Fordyce, the late Duchess of Gordon's brother, was Collector General (or had been) of taxes in Scotland, and owed a large arrear to the public.

He was also Surveyor of Crown lands.

The then Opposition were for hauling him up.

Pitt was again in power.

Mr. Creevey was to bring forward the motion in the House of Commons, and Mr. Fox was to support it, and had actually spoken once or twice, in a preliminary way on the subject.

Notice of the motion was regularly given; it was put off from time to time, and, at last, _dropped_, Mr. Fox _declining_ to support it.

I have no books at hand; but the affair will be found recorded in the Register.

It was not owing to Mr. Creevey that the thing did not come on.

I remember well that it was owing to Mr. Fox.

Other motives were stated; and those others might be the real motives; but, at any rate, the next year, or the year after, Mr. Fox got transferred to him a part of that estate, which belongs to the _public_, and which was once so great, called the _Crown lands_; and of these lands Fordyce long had been, and then was, the Surveyor.

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

This county of Surrey presents to the eye of the traveller a greater contrast than any other county in England.

It has some of the very best and some of the worst lands, not only in England, but in the world.

We were here upon those of the latter description.

For five miles on the road towards Guildford the land is a rascally common covered with poor heath, except where the gravel is so near the top as not to suffer even the heath to grow.

Here we entered the enclosed lands, which have the gravel at bottom, but a nice light, black mould at top; in which the trees grow very well.

Through bye-lanes and bridle-ways we came out into the London road, between Ripley and Guildford, and immediately crossing that road, came on towards a village called Merrow.

We came out into the road just mentioned, at the lodge-gates of a Mr. Weston, whose mansion and estate have just passed (as to occupancy) into the hands of some new man.

At Merrow, where we came into the Epsom road, we found that Mr. Webb Weston, whose mansion and park are a little further on towards London, had just walked out, and left it in possession of another new man.

This gentleman told us, last year, at the _Epsom Meeting_, that he was _losing his income_; and I told him _how it was_ that he was losing it!

He is said to be a very worthy man; very much respected; a very good landlord; but, I dare say, he is one of those who approved of yeomanry cavalry to keep down the "Jacobins and Levellers;" but who, in fact, as I always told men of this description, have _put down_ themselves and their landlords; for without them this thing never could have been done.

To ascribe the whole to _contrivance_ would be to give to Pitt and his followers too much credit for profundity; but if the knaves who assembled at the Crown and Anchor in the Strand, in 1793, to put down, by the means of prosecutions and spies, those whom they called "Republicans and Levellers;" if these knaves had said, "Let us go to work to induce the owners and occupiers of the land to convey their estates and their capital into our hands," and if the Government had corresponded with them in views, the effect could not have been more complete than it has, thus far, been.

The yeomanry actually, as to the effect, drew their swords to keep the reformers at bay, while the tax-eaters were taking away the estates and the capital.

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

Lord Onslow lives near Merrow.

This is the man that was, for many years, so famous as a driver of four-in-hand.

He used to be called _Tommy Onslow_.

He has the character of being a very good landlord.

I know he called me "a d----d _Jacobin_" several years ago, only, I presume, because I was labouring to preserve to him the means of still driving four-in-hand, while he, and others like him, and their yeomanry cavalry, were working as hard to defeat my wishes and endeavours.

They say here, that, some little time back, his Lordship, who has, at any rate, had the courage to retrench in all sorts of ways, was at Guildford in a gig with one horse, at the very moment, when Spicer, the Stock-broker, who was a Chairman of the Committee for prosecuting Lord Cochrane, and who lives at Esher, came rattling in with four horses and a couple of out-riders!

They relate an observation made by his Lordship, which may, or may not, be true, and which therefore, I shall not repeat.

But, my Lord, there is another sort of courage; courage other than that of retrenching, that would become you in the present emergency: I mean _political_ courage, and especially the courage of _acknowledging your errors_; confessing that you were wrong when you called the reformers Jacobins and levellers; the courage of now joining them in their efforts to save their country, to regain their freedom, and to preserve to you your estate, which is to be preserved, you will observe, by no other means than that of a Reform of the Parliament.

It is now manifest, even to fools, that it has been by the instrumentality of a base and fraudulent paper-money that loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers and Jews have got the estates into their hands.

With what eagerness, in 1797, did the nobility, gentry, and clergy rush forward to give their sanction and their support to the system which then began, and which has finally produced, what we now behold!

They assembled in all the counties, and put forth declarations that they would take the paper of the Bank, and that they would support the system.

Upon this occasion the county of Surrey was the very first county; and on the list of signatures the very _first_ name was _Onslow_!

There may be sales and conveyances; there may be recoveries, deeds, and other parchments; but this was the real transfer; this was the real signing away of the estates.

To come to Chilworth, which lies on the south side of St. Martha's Hill, most people would have gone along the level road to Guildford and come round through Shawford under the hills; but we, having seen enough of streets and turnpikes, took across over Merrow Down, where the Guildford race-course is, and then mounted the "Surrey Hills," so famous for the prospects they afford.

Here we looked back over Middlesex, and into Buckinghamshire and Berkshire, away towards the North-West, into Essex and Kent towards the East, over part of Sussex to the South, and over part of Hampshire to the West and South-West.

We are here upon a bed of chalk, where the downs always afford good sheep food.

We steered for St. Martha's Chapel, and went round at the foot of the lofty hill on which it stands.

This brought us down the side of a steep hill, and along a bridle-way, into the narrow and exquisitely beautiful vale of Chilworth, where we were to stop for the night.

This vale is skirted partly by woodlands and partly by sides of hills tilled as corn fields.

The land is excellent, particularly towards the bottom.

Even the arable fields are in some places, towards their tops, nearly as steep as the roof of a tiled house; and where the ground is covered with woods the ground is still more steep.

Down the middle of the vale there is a series of ponds, or small _lakes_, which meet your eye, here and there, through the trees.

Here are some very fine farms, a little strip of meadows, some hop-gardens, and the lakes have given rise to the establishment of powder-mills and paper-mills.

The trees of all sorts grow well here; and coppices yield poles for the hop-gardens and wood to make charcoal for the powder-mills.

They are sowing wheat here, and the land, owing to the fine summer that we have had, is in a very fine state.

The rain, too, which, yesterday, fell here in great abundance, has been just in time to make a really good wheat-sowing season.

The turnips, all the way that we have come, are good.

Rather backward in some places; but in sufficient quantity upon the ground, and there is yet a good while for them to grow.

All the fall fruit is excellent, and in great abundance.

The grapes are as good as those raised under glass.

The apples are much richer than in ordinary years.

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

The crop not only large, but good in quality.

They expect to get _six_ pounds a hundred for them at Weyhill fair.

That is _one_ more than I think they will get.

The best Sussex hops were selling in the Borough of Southwark at three pounds a hundred a few days before I left London.

The Farnham hops _may_ bring double that price; but that, I think, is as much as they will; and this is ruin to the hop-planter.

The _tax_, with its attendant inconveniences, amounts to a pound a hundred; the picking, drying, and bagging, to 50_s.

_ The carrying to market not less than 5_s.

_ Here is the sum of 3_l.

_ 10_s.

_ of the money.

Supposing the crop to be half a ton to the acre, the bare tillage will be 10_s.

_ The poles for an acre cannot cost less than 2_l.

_ a-year; that is another 4_s.

_ to each hundred of hops.

This brings the outgoings to 82_s.

_ Then comes the manure, then come the poor-rates, and road-rates, and county rates; and if these leave one single farthing for _rent_ I think it is strange.

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

It is said that he is coming to receive a large legacy; a thing not to be overlooked by a person who lives in a country where he can have _land for nothing_!

The truth is, I believe, that there has lately died a gentleman, who has bequeathed a part of his property to pay the creditors of a relation of his who some years ago became a bankrupt, and one of whose creditors Mr. Birkbeck was.

What the amount may be I know not; but I have heard, that the bankrupt had a _partner_ at the time of the bankruptcy; so that there must be a good deal of difficulty in settling the matter in an equitable manner.

The _Chancery_ would drawl it out (supposing the present system to continue) till, in all human probability, there would not be as much left for Mr. Birkbeck as would be required to pay his way back again to the Land of Promise.

I hope he is coming here to remain here.

He is a very clever man, though he has been very abusive and very unjust with regard to me.

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

_ We started from Chilworth this morning, came down the vale, left the village of Shawford to our right, and that of Wonersh to our left, and crossing the river Wey, got into the turnpike-road between Guildford and Godalming, went on through Godalming, and got to Lea, which lies to the north-east snugly under Hindhead, about 11 o'clock.

This was coming only about eight miles, a sort of rest after the 32 miles of the day before.

Coming along the road, a farmer overtook us, and as he had known me from seeing me at the Meeting at Epsom last year, I had a part of my main business to perform, namely, to talk politics.

He was going to _Haslemere_ fair.

Upon the mention of that sink-hole of a Borough, which sends, "_as clearly as the sun at noonday_," the celebrated Charles Long, and the scarcely less celebrated Robert Ward, to the celebrated House of Commons, we began to talk, as it were, spontaneously, about Lord Lonsdale and the Lowthers.

The farmer wondered why the Lowthers, that were the owners of so many farms, should be for a system which was so manifestly taking away the estates of the landlords and the capital of the farmers, and giving them to Jews, loan-jobbers, stock-jobbers, placemen, pensioners, sinecure people, and people of the "dead weight."

But his wonder ceased; his eyes were opened; and "his heart seemed to burn within him as I talked to him on the way," when I explained to him the nature of _Crown lands_ and "_Crown tenants_," and when I described to him certain districts of property in Westmoreland and other parts.

I

had not the book in my pocket, but my memory furnished me with quite a sufficiency of matter to make him perceive that, in supporting the present system, the Lowthers were by no means so foolish as he appeared to think them.

From the Lowthers I turned to Mr. Poyntz, who lives at Midhurst in Sussex, and whose name as a "_Crown tenant_" I find in a Report lately laid before the House of Commons, and the particulars of which I will state another time for the information of the people of Sussex.

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

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

What I have seen in that Report convinces me that Mr. Poyntz is no fool, as far as relates to his own interest, at any rate.

There is a mine of wealth in these "_Crown lands_."

Here are farms, and manors, and mines, and woods, and forests, and houses, and streets, incalculable in value.

What can be so proper as to apply this public property towards the discharge of a part, at least, of that public debt, which is hanging round the neck of this nation like a mill-stone?

Mr. Ricardo proposes to seize upon a part of the private property of every man, to be given to the stock-jobbing race.

At an act of injustice like this the mind revolts.

The foolishness of it, besides, is calculated to shock one.

But in the _public property_ we see the suitable thing.

And who can possibly object to this, except those, who, amongst them, now divide the possession or benefit of this property?

I have once before mentioned, but I will repeat it, that _Marlborough House_ in Pall Mall, for which the Prince of Saxe Coburg pays a rent to the Duke of Marlborough of three thousand pounds a-year, is rented of this generous public by that most Noble Duke at the rate of less than _forty pounds_ a-year.

There are three houses in Pall Mall, the whole of which pay a rent _to the public_ of about fifteen pounds a-year, I think it is.

I myself, twenty-two years ago, paid three hundred pounds a-year for one of them, to a man that I thought was the owner of them; but I now find that these houses belong to the public.

The Duke of Buckingham's house in Pall Mall, which is one of the grandest in all London, and which is not worth less than seven or eight hundred pounds a-year, belongs to the public.

The Duke is the tenant; and I think he pays for it much less than twenty pounds a-year.

I speak from memory here all the way along; and therefore not positively; I will, another time, state the particulars from the books.

The book that I am now referring to is also of a date of some years back; but I will mention all the particulars another time.

Talk of _reducing rents_, indeed!

Talk of _generous landlords_!

It is the public that is the generous landlord.

It is the public that lets its houses and manors and mines and farms at a cheap rate.

It certainly would not be so good a landlord if it had a Reformed Parliament to manage its affairs, nor would it suffer so many snug _Corporations_ to carry on their snugglings in the manner that they do, and therefore it is obviously the interest of the rich tenants of this poor public, as well as the interest of the snugglers in Corporations, to prevent the poor public from having such a Parliament.

We got into free-quarter again at Lea; and there is nothing like free-quarter, as soldiers well know.

Lea is situated on the edge of that immense heath which sweeps down from the summit of Hindhead across to the north over innumerable hills of minor altitude and of an infinite variety of shapes towards Farnham, to the north-east, towards the Hog's Back, leading from Farnham to Guildford, and to the east, or nearly so, towards Godalming.

Nevertheless, the enclosed lands at Lea are very good and singularly beautiful.

The timber of all sorts grows well; the land is light, and being free from stones, very pleasant to work.

If you go southward from Lea about a mile you get down into what is called, in the old Acts of Parliament, the _Weald_ of Surrey.

Here the land is a stiff tenacious loam at top with blue and yellow clay beneath.

This Weald continues on eastward, and gets into Sussex near East Grinstead: thence it winds about under the hills, into Kent.

Here the oak grows finer than in any part of England.

The trees are more spiral in their form.

They grow much faster than upon any other land.

Yet the timber must be better; for, in some of the Acts of Queen Elizabeth's reign, it is provided, that the oak for the Royal Navy shall come out of the Wealds of Surrey, Sussex, or Kent.

_Odiham, Hampshire, Friday, 27 Sept.

_ From Lea we set off this morning about six o'clock to get free-quarter again at a worthy old friend's at this nice little plain market-town.

Our direct road was right over the heath through Tilford to Farnham; but we veered a little to the left after we came to Tilford, at which place on the Green we stopped to look at an _oak tree_, which, when I was a little boy, was but a very little tree, comparatively, and which is now, take it altogether, by far the finest tree that I ever saw in my life.

The stem or shaft is short; that is to say, it is short before you come to the first limbs; but it is full _thirty feet round_, at about eight or ten feet from the ground.

Out of the stem there come not less than fifteen or sixteen limbs, many of which are from five to ten feet round, and each of which would, in fact, be considered a decent stick of timber.

I am not judge enough of timber to say anything about the quantity in the whole tree, but my son stepped the ground, and as nearly as we could judge, the diameter of the extent of the branches was upwards of ninety feet, which would make a circumference of about three hundred feet.

The tree is in full growth at this moment.

There is a little hole in one of the limbs; but with that exception, there appears not the smallest sign of decay.

The tree has made great shoots in all parts of it this last summer and spring; and there are no appearances of _white_ upon the trunk, such as are regarded as the symptoms of full growth.

There are many sorts of oak in England; two very distinct; one with a pale leaf, and one with a dark leaf: this is of the pale leaf.

The tree stands upon Tilford-green, the soil of which is a light loam with a hard sand stone a good way beneath, and, probably, clay beneath that.

The spot where the tree stands is about a hundred and twenty feet from the edge of a little river, and the ground on which it stands may be about ten feet higher than the bed of that river.

In quitting Tilford we came on to the land belonging to Waverly Abbey, and then, instead of going on to the town of Farnham, veered away to the left towards Wrecklesham, in order to cross the Farnham and Alton turnpike-road, and to come on by the side of Crondall to Odiham.

We went a little out of the way to go to a place called the _Bourn_, which lies in the heath at about a mile from Farnham.

It is a winding narrow valley, down which, during the wet season of the year, there runs a stream beginning at the _Holt Forest_, and emptying itself into the _Wey_ just below Moor-Park, which was the seat of Sir William Temple when Swift was residing with him.

We went to this Bourn in order that I might show my son the spot where I received the rudiments of my education.

There is a little hop-garden in which I used to work when from eight to ten years old; from which I have scores of times run to follow the hounds, leaving the hoe to do the best that it could to destroy the weeds; but the most interesting thing was a _sand-hill_, which goes from a part of the heath down to the rivulet.

As a due mixture of pleasure with toil, I, with two brothers, used occasionally to _desport_ ourselves, as the lawyers call it, at this sand-hill.

Our diversion was this: we used to go to the top of the hill, which was steeper than the roof of a house; one used to draw his arms out of the sleeves of his smock-frock, and lay himself down with his arms by his sides; and then the others, one at head and the other at feet, sent him rolling down the hill like a barrel or a log of wood.

By the time he got to the bottom, his hair, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, were all full of this loose sand; then the others took their turn, and at every roll there was a monstrous spell of laughter.

I had often told my sons of this while they were very little, and I now took one of them to see the spot.

But that was not all.

This was the spot where I was receiving my _education_; and this was the sort of education; and I am perfectly satisfied that if I had not received such an education, or something very much like it; that, if I had been brought up a milksop, with a nursery-maid everlastingly at my heels, I should have been at this day as great a fool, as inefficient a mortal, as any of those frivolous idiots that are turned out from Winchester and Westminster Schools, or from any of those dens of dunces called Colleges and Universities.

It is impossible to say how much I owe to that sand-hill; and I went to return it my thanks for the ability which it probably gave me to be one of the greatest terrors, to one of the greatest and most powerful bodies of knaves and fools, that ever were permitted to afflict this or any other country.

From the Bourn we proceeded on to Wrecklesham, at the end of which we crossed what is called the river Wey.

Here we found a parcel of labourers at parish-work.

Amongst them was an old playmate of mine.

The account they gave of their situation was very dismal.

The harvest was over early.

The hop-picking is now over; and now they are employed _by the Parish_; that is to say, not absolutely digging holes one day and filling them up the next; but at the expense of half-ruined farmers and tradesmen and landlords, to break stones into very small pieces to make nice smooth roads lest the jolting, in going along them, should create bile in the stomachs of the overfed tax-eaters.

I call upon mankind to witness this scene; and to say, whether ever the like of this was heard of before.

It is a state of things, where all is out of order; where self-preservation, that great law of nature, seems to be set at defiance; for here are farmers _unable_ to pay men for working for them, and yet compelled to pay them for working in doing that which is really of no use to any human being.

There lie the hop-poles unstripped.

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

The fences are not nearly what they ought to be.

The very meadows, to our right and our left in crossing this little valley, would occupy these men advantageously until the setting in of the frost; and here are they, not, as I said before, actually digging holes one day and filling them up the next; but, to all intents and purposes, as uselessly employed.

Is this Mr. Canning's "_Sun of Prosperity_?"

Is this the way to increase or preserve a nation's wealth?

Is this a sign of wise legislation and of good government?

Does this thing "work well," Mr. Canning?

Does it prove that we want no change?

True, you were born under a Kingly Government;

and so was I as well as you; but I was not born under _Six-Acts_; nor was I born under a state of things like this.

I was not born under it, and I do not wish to live under it; and, with God's help, I will change it if I can.

We left these poor fellows, after having given them, not "religious Tracts," which would, if they could, make the labourer content with half starvation, but something to get them some bread and cheese and beer, being firmly convinced that it is the body that wants filling and not the mind.

However, in speaking of their low wages, I told them that the farmers and hop-planters were as much objects of compassion as themselves, which they acknowledged.

We immediately, alter this, crossed the road, and went on towards Crondall upon a soil that soon became stiff loam and flint at top with a bed of chalk beneath.

We did not go to Crondall; but kept along over Slade Heath, and through a very pretty place called Well.

We arrived at Odiham about half after eleven, at the end of a beautiful ride of about seventeen miles, in a very fine and pleasant day.

_Winchester, Saturday, 28th September.

_ Just after daylight we started for this place.

By the turnpike we could have come through Basingstoke by turning off to the right, or through Alton and Alresford by turning off to the left.

Being naturally disposed towards a middle course, we chose to wind down through Upton-Gray, Preston-Candover, Chilton-Candover, Brown-Candover, then down to Ovington, and into Winchester by the north entrance.

From Wrecklesham to Winchester we have come over roads and lanes of flint and chalk.

The weather being dry again, the ground under you, as solid as iron, makes a great rattling with the horses' feet.

The country where the soil is stiff loam upon chalk is never bad for corn.

Not rich, but never poor.

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

The buildings last a long time, from the absence of fogs and also the absence of humidity in the ground.

The absence of dirt makes the people habitually cleanly; and all along through this country the people appear in general to be very neat.

It is a country for sheep, which are always sound and good upon this iron soil.

The trees grow well, where there are trees.

The woods and coppices are not numerous; but they are good, particularly the ash, which always grows well upon the chalk.

The oaks, though they do not grow in the spiral form, as upon the clays, are by no means stunted; and some of them very fine trees; I take it that they require a much greater number of years to bring them to perfection than in the _Wealds_.

The wood, perhaps, may be harder; but I have heard that the oak, which grows upon these hard bottoms, is very frequently what the carpenters call _shaky_.

The underwoods here consist, almost entirely, of hazle, which is very fine, and much tougher and more durable than that which grows on soils with a moist bottom.

This hazle is a thing of great utility here.

It furnishes rods wherewith to make fences; but its principal use is, to make _wattles_ for the folding of sheep in the fields.

These things are made much more neatly here than in the south of Hampshire and in Sussex, or in any other part that I have seen.

Chalk is the favourite soil of the _yew-tree_; and at Preston-Candover there is an avenue of yew-trees, probably a mile long, each tree containing, as nearly as I can guess, from twelve to twenty feet of timber, which, as the reader knows, implies a tree of considerable size.

They have probably been a century or two in growing;

but, in any way that timber can be used, the timber of the yew will last, perhaps, ten times as long as the timber of any other tree that we grow in England.

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

Sir Thomas, who has supplanted the Duke of Bedford, was to our right, while Alexander, who has supplanted Lord Northington, was on our left.

The latter has enclosed, as a sort of outwork to his park, a pretty little down called Northington Down, in which he has planted, here and there, a clump of trees.

But Mr. Baring, not reflecting that woods are not like funds, to be made at a heat, has planted his trees _too large_; so that they are covered with moss, are dying at the top, and are literally growing downward instead of upward.

In short, this enclosure and plantation have totally destroyed the beauty of this part of the estate.

The down, which was before very beautiful, and formed a sort of _glacis_ up to the park pales, is now a marred, ragged, ugly-looking thing.

The dying trees, which have been planted long enough for you not to perceive that they have been planted, excite the idea of sterility in the soil.

They do injustice to it; for, as a down, it was excellent.

Everything that has been done here is to the injury of the estate, and discovers a most shocking want of taste in the projector.

Sir Thomas's plantations, or, rather, those of his father, have been managed more judiciously.

I do not like to be a sort of spy in a man's neighbourhood; but I will tell Sir Thomas Baring what I have heard; and if he be a man of sense I shall have his thanks, rather than his reproaches, for so doing.

I may have been misinformed; but this is what I have heard, that he, and also Lady Baring, are very charitable; that they are very kind and compassionate to their poor neighbours; but that they tack a sort of condition to this charity; that they insist upon the objects of it adopting their notions with regard to religion; or, at least, that where the people are not what they deem _pious_, they are not objects of their benevolence.

I do not say, that they are not perfectly sincere themselves, and that their wishes are not the best that can possibly be;

but of this I am very certain, that, by pursuing this principle of action, where they make one good man or woman, they will make one hundred hypocrites.

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

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

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

Sir Thomas does, I dare say, think me a very wicked man, since I aim at the destruction of the funding system, and what he would call a robbery of what he calls the public creditor; and yet, God help me, I have read books enough, and amongst the rest, a great part of the religious tracts.

Amongst the labouring people, the first thing you have to look after is, _common honesty_, _speaking the truth_, and _refraining from thieving_; and to secure these, the labourer must have _his belly-full_ and be _free from fear_; and this belly-full must come to him from out of his _wages_, and not from benevolence of any description.

Such being my opinion, I think Sir Thomas Baring would do better, that he would discover more real benevolence, by using the influence which he must naturally have in his neighbourhood, to prevent a diminution in the wages of labour.

_Winchester, Sunday Morning, 29 Sept.

_ Yesterday was market-day here.

Everything cheap and falling instead of rising.

If it were _over-production_ last year that produced the _distress_, when are our miseries to have an end!

They will end when these men cease to have sway, and not before.

I had not been in Winchester long before I heard something very interesting about the _manifesto_, concerning the poor, which was lately issued here, and upon which I remarked in my last Register but one, in my Letter to Sir Thomas Baring.

Proceeding upon the true military principle, I looked out for free-quarter, which the reader will naturally think difficult for _me_ to find in a town containing a _Cathedral_.

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

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

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

They do not authorize Justices of the Peace to kill us, because we meet to dine without their permission.

But I do not like Dinner-Meetings on _my_ account.

I like much better to go and fall in with the lads of the land, or with anybody else, at their own places of resort; and I am going to place myself down at Uphusband, in excellent free-quarter, in the midst of all the great fairs of the West, in order, before the winter campaign begins, that I may see as many farmers as possible, and that they may hear my opinions, and I theirs.

I shall be at Weyhill fair on the 10th of October, and, perhaps, on some of the succeeding days; and, on one or more of those days, I intend to dine at the White Hart, at Andover.

What other fairs or places I shall go to I shall notify hereafter.

And this I think the frankest and fairest way.

I wish to see many people, and to talk to them: and there are a great many people who wish to see and to talk to me.

What better reason can be given for a man's going about the country and dining at fairs and markets?

At the dinner at Winchester we had a good number of opulent yeomen, and many gentlemen joined us after the dinner.

The state of the country was well talked over; and, during the _session_ (much more sensible than some other _sessions_ that I have had to remark on), I made the following _RUSTIC HARANGUE.

_ GENTLEMEN,--Though many here are, I am sure, glad to _see me_, I am not vain enough to suppose that anything other than that of wishing to hear my opinions on the prospects before us can have induced many to choose to be here to dine with me to-day.

I shall, before I sit down, propose to you a _toast_, which you will drink, or not, as you choose: but I shall state one particular wish in that shape, that it may be the more distinctly understood, and the better remembered.

The wish to which I allude relates to the _tithes_.

Under that word I mean to speak of all that mass of wealth which is vulgarly called _Church property_: but which is, in fact, _public property_, and may, of course, be disposed of as the Parliament shall please.

There appears at this moment an uncommon degree of anxiety on the part of the parsons to see the farmers enabled to pay _rents_.

The business of the parsons being only with _tithes_, one naturally, at first sight, wonders why they should care so much about _rents_.

The fact is this: they see clearly enough, that the landlords will never long go without rents, and suffer them to enjoy the tithes.

They see, too, that there must be a struggle between the _land_ and the _funds_: they see that there is such a struggle.

They see, that it is the taxes that are taking away the rent of the landlord and the capital of the farmer.

Yet the parsons are afraid to see the taxes reduced.

Why?

Because, if the taxes be reduced in any great degree (and nothing short of a great degree will give relief), they see that the interest of the Debt cannot be paid; and they know well, that the interest of the Debt can never be reduced, until their tithes have been reduced.

Thus, then, they find themselves in a great difficulty.

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

Both cannot be, unless some means or other be found out of putting into, or keeping in, the farmer's pocket, money that is not now there.

The scheme that appears to have been fallen upon for this purpose is the strangest in the world, and it must, if attempted to be put into execution, produce something little short of open and general commotion;

namely, that of reducing the wages of labour to a mark so low as to make the labourer a walking skeleton.

Before I proceed further, it is right that I communicate to you an explanation, which, not an hour ago, I received from Mr. Poulter, relative to the _manifesto_, lately issued in this town by a Bench of Magistrates of which that gentleman was Chairman.

I have not the honour to be personally acquainted with Mr. Poulter, but certainly, if I had misunderstood the manifesto, it was right that I should be, if possible, made to understand it.

Mr. Poulter, in company with another gentleman, came to me in this Inn, and said, that the bench did not mean that their resolutions should have the effect of _lowering the wages_: and that the sums, stated in the paper, were sums to be given in the way of _relief_.

We had not the paper before us, and, as the paper contained a good deal about relief, I, in recollection, confounded the two, and said, that I had understood the paper agreeably to the explanation.

But upon looking at the paper again, I see, that, as to the _words_, there was a clear recommendation to make the _wages_ what is there stated.

However, seeing that the Chairman himself disavows this, we must conclude that the bench put forth words not expressing their meaning.

To this I must add, as connected with the manifesto, that it is stated in that document, that such and such justices were present, and a large and respectable number of yeomen who had been invited to attend.

Now, Gentlemen, I was, I must confess, struck with this addition to the bench.

These gentlemen have not been accustomed to treat farmers with so much attention.

It seemed odd, that they should want a set of farmers to be present, to give a sort of sanction to their acts.

Since my arrival in Winchester, I have found, however, that having them present was not all; for that the names of some of these yeomen were actually inserted in the manuscript of the manifesto, and that those names were expunged _at the request of the parties named_.

This is a very singular proceeding, then, altogether.

It presents to us a strong picture of the diffidence, or modesty (call it which you please) of the justices; and it shows us, that the yeomen present did not like to have _their names_ standing as giving sanction to the resolutions contained in the manifesto.

Indeed, they knew well, that those resolutions never could be acted upon.

They knew that they could not live in safety even in the same village with labourers, paid at the rate of 3, 4, and 5 shillings a-week.

To return, now, Gentlemen, to the scheme for squeezing rents out of the bones of the labourer, is it not, upon the face of it, most monstrously absurd, that this scheme should be resorted to, when the plain and easy and just way of insuring rents must present itself to every eye, and can be pursued by the Parliament whenever it choose?

We hear loud outcries against the poor-rates; the _enormous_ poor-rates; the _all-devouring_ poor-rates; but what are the facts?

Why, that, in Great Britain, _six millions_ are paid in poor-rates, _seven millions_ (or thereabouts) in _tithes_, and _sixty millions_ to the fund-people, the army, placemen, and the rest.

And yet nothing of all this seems to be thought of but the _six_ millions.

Surely the other and so much larger sums might to be thought of.

Even the _six_ millions are, for the far greater part, _wages_ and not poor-rates.

And yet all this outcry is made about these _six_ millions, while not a word is said about the other _sixty-seven_ millions.

Gentlemen, to enumerate all the ways, in which the public money is spent, would take me a week.

I will mention two classes of persons who are receivers of taxes: and you will then see with what _reason_ it is, that this outcry is set up against the poor-rates and against the amount of wages.

There is a thing called the _Dead Weight_.