“P.S.—I will write to Sir J. Astley. I am very sorry for his misfortune indeed. I want very much to see some man who has planted upon a large scale. Cutting upon a large scale is the order of the day here.”
“… Now, as to the dinner, it is dreadfully distressing for me to go; for, the season being so backward, has thrown the oak-cutting into this week and the two succeeding ones, and you will easily guess how necessary my personal attendance is, while it lasts. Yet I will go, if alive and well; but I must go up on the Sunday, and come back on the Tuesday, for I cannot be longer absent. I have many reasons for going as well as for staying; but the former prevail.
“I have not sold my second lot of timber that I had marked while I was in London. When I come to see it again, and to consider that the 300 that would have sold for a thousand pounds were gaining in growth above 150l. a year, I could not bring myself to commit such flagrant murder of property. The new purchase has upon it about 6000 trees, that now cost me from a shilling to two-and-sixpence apiece, and that in twenty years’ time will be worth 3l. apiece, at the very least. This, I think, is the best way of insuring a fortune for children.”
“Only the day before yesterday, I was bent upon going to town for the 23rd, and had written to Mr. H—— of Fontington, to meet me there about the farm. But now I find that it cannot be, without an inconvenience and risk which, I am sure, no friend would wish me to incur, especially as my journey would produce little more than my own gratification at witnessing the assemblage of so many public-spirited men. You know very well that this is my harvest, and that this year I have a tenfold harvest. I allude to the oak-tree cutting, which must be done while the sap is in the flood of its spring, or not at all; and the bark, you will observe, is of the little thinners that I am cutting upon my own account, worth three times as much as the timber. In the average of years, this sap season lasts a good month; but the very extraordinary backwardness of this spring, and the very rare hot weather that has come on after it, has made the season last only three weeks, a fortnight of which has already passed. Owing to this, I, who waited till the several companies of fellers had finished the great timber, am obliged to fall to work on Saturday, instead of waiting till next Tuesday. I am compelled to set sixty men on at once, and as mine is a work of thinning, it will require my constant attendance from the time the men begin till they leave off. I must be with them to mark the trees; to see the effect of taking out some, before we take out others; and, in short, the health and growth, as well as the future beauty, of 100 acres of the finest woods in England depend upon my personal attendance between Saturday and Wednesday next. Nothing ever was more pointedly perverse; but I trust that all those who wished me to attend the dinner will be convinced that I ought not to leave home at this time.
“I am of opinion, too (and I should like to hear what the Major says of the matter), that I am of most weight as a spectator and comment-maker. This way my word and opinion pass for a good deal; but I am not clear that whatever good I could do as an agitator, would not be more than counterbalanced by the loss of weight in the other character. I know it is the opinion of Sir Francis, that to put me in parliament would be to lessen my weight; and, really, I think that the same reasoning will apply to the other case. In fact, we cannot act and write too, with so much advantage. The way in which I am most able to aid the cause of the country is to sit quietly here, and give my sincere and unbiased opinions upon all that passes which appears worthy of particular notice.
“In the copy last sent you, there is the phrase ‘old G. Rose.’ Upon second thoughts, it may as well be left out. It is, perhaps, right to cease to use that, and the like phrases. One puts them down under the influence of indignant feelings, but they probably do more harm than good.”
Although he does not go up to the festival at the “Crown and Anchor,” Mr. Cobbett does justice to the opportunity as a “comment-maker.” In supporting Burdett’s views, as expressed at the meeting, he remarks:—
“I am persuaded that if the nation were polled, leaving out those who have an interest in corruption, there would appear a majority of a thousand to one in favour of the reform, which he recommends, and which, in their better days, had been recommended by Mr. Pitt and Mr. Wilberforce.… A minister may desire to do that which is for the good of the country; he may have an anxious desire to promote its happiness (and, his errors aside, I do think that Mr. Perceval is such a man); but, before he can stir an inch, he has the feelings and interests of the borough-mongers to consult; he has party to counteract, and faction to mollify. How much more at his ease must such a man feel: what a load would be removed from his mind, if he could step into a House of Commons freely chosen, and having no object in view but that of agreeing to what they thought good, and opposing what they thought bad! A House of Commons in which there would be no strife for office or emolument, and in which, nine times out of ten, truth would prevail.”
There is an excursion to Cornwall, in August, on occasion of the trial of Sir Christopher Hawkins and others, at Penrhyn, for corrupt practices at a past election. The electors of Westminster are forthwith treated to a new lecture, upon the prevalence of the “vile traffic” in seats; and Mr. Wright is favoured with an account of the aspect of things and people as they appear from behind the scenes. One remark is interesting: “Notwithstanding all I have said about the lawyers lately, the whole of them have treated me with distinguished civility.”