William Cobbett: A Biography in Two Volumes, Vol. 2

by Edward Smith

“In January, 1821, my family, after having for years been scattered about like a covey of partridges that had been sprung and shot at, got once more together, in a hired lodging at Brompton; and our delight, and our mutual caresses, and our tears of joy, experienced no abatement at our actually finding ourselves with only three shillings in the whole world; and at my having to borrow from a friend the money to pay for the paper and print off the then next Saturday’s Register!”

To live in London, however, or even near it without “fruits and flowers,” was out of the question. Accordingly, we find Mr. Cobbett soon settled at Kensington, cultivating a plot of land as a seed-farm; and his politics and his satire are, thenceforth, mingled with the mysteries of trees and turnips, corn and apples. Unable to resume the practice of planting, for himself, upon a large scale, Mr. Cobbett gave a great impulse to the formation of plantations, on the part of gentlemen who could afford to do it. His old friend, Lord Folkestone, was especially encouraged to improve the grounds at Coleshill by further plantings, and covered many acres with his favourite acacia, then better known under its American name of locust-tree. So great, indeed, became the rage for this particular tree, that more applicants came to Kensington for the seeds than could be served with those imported from America; and Cobbett actually had to purchase them sometimes from the London nurserymen, in whose shops they were lying neglected under another name.

The story of Cobbett’s planting and seed-farming would make an interesting volume. It became the fashion, after his death, to decry his successes,[2] and to minimize his qualities as a farmer; and perhaps with some justice, as regards this latter part of his life, as his hands were always too full of more stirring matters. But he did unquestionable service to the art of planting; and in promoting the restoration of woods and coppices, which had so fatally suffered from the felling and clearing brought about by the war, and by the efforts made by so many persons to save their property by the sacrifice of its timber. And, besides this practical part of the business: ever ready to put his notions into print, he must needs produce more books, in order to popularize his plans; books, however, which have met with comparative neglect, of late years, on account of their special nature. Rural economy and domestic economy are matters which, treated as social arts, get so modified by the rapidly-changing currents of our time, that the mode of one generation is lost amid the fads of the next. But the peculiar merit of Cobbett’s books was their readableness; and, whilst such matters as the Currency and the Corn Laws could be rendered entertaining by his facile pen, it was natural that rural affairs, in which he delighted, and amongst which he heartily believed that the highest domestic felicity was to be found, should derive from that pen the highest charms. There never lived, probably, a writer to equal Cobbett in rural description: one who could, in the midst of some angry polemic, so readily turn off for a moment and present his reader with a country picture; perfectly life-like, glowing with colour and realism: who could make a mere gardening book entertaining.

Whilst in Long Island, Mr. Cobbett had prepared an “American Gardener,” which he published, soon after his return to England; dedicating it to one of his neighbours out there. The “English Gardener,” published a few years later, was a reproduction of this, adapted to the differing conditions of his own country. “The Woodlands,” published early in 1825; a new edition of Tull’s old book on “Horse-hoeing Husbandry,” in 1822; and a guide for the cultivation of Indian corn, completed a useful series of books on rural affairs. All these are marked by sufficient egotism; but they are far more practical than the general run of such works. There is so much painstaking description, and so much lively illustration, that the reader is forced to take an interest in what he is reading. It is almost impossible for one to take in hand the “Woodlands,” without wishing to become a planter.

The “Cottage Economy” was a small work, exclusively for the use of cottagers, with the aim of bringing them back to the habits and ways of their grandparents; in reviving the arts of making bread and brewing beer at home; of keeping cows, poultry, and bees; and, generally, showing the way to become independent of shopkeepers and tax-gatherers. All this Cobbett had seen in his youth, and he was determined to revive these things, if it was to be done. And the immediate popularity of these rural books, coming, as they did, at a period when people were making most desperate efforts to keep the wolf from the door, showed forth an unquestionable fact,—that the people wanted sympathy and guidance, and the means of self-improvement, and were well satisfied to get so much from the man who was fighting their battles for them in another way.

As one example of the amount of influence Cobbett obtained over people, in minor domestic matters, the following may be given:—From a farmer’s daughter in Connecticut, who had sent over to the Society of Arts a straw-bonnet of her own making, he obtained some particulars as to the mode of preparation. Having published the matter in the Register, an importer of Italian straw applied to Mr. Cobbett, requesting to know whether he could undertake to get some American straw imported. Upon seeing some samples of the straw from which the Leghorn hats were made, and looking at it “with the eyes of a farmer,” he perceived that it consisted of dry oat, wheat, and rye stalks, mixed with those of certain common grass plants. This discovery made it clear to him that there was no need of importation; and, proceeding in his usual energetic way, he soon had straw hats and bonnets prepared from English grasses. This opened up a new industry, not only in the homes of the labourers, but on the part of some manufacturers; and its success was so far recognizable, that the Society of Arts, in the year 1823, gave Mr. Cobbett their silver medal, as a token of their approbation. Envy caught sight of this, of course, and asserted itself as usual, with newspaper paragraphs headed, “The Society of Arts humbugged at last!” and so on; but what was that, to disturb the well-earned delight of the man who could ride about the country, and see and hear for himself many a poor cottager at work, otherwise unable to earn a livelihood: who could print letters of grateful thanks from every quarter of the kingdom?

The attempt to naturalize the maize plant was another singular effort of Mr. Cobbett’s; the complete success of which, however, was too much to expect from the English climate. But, by the application of a good deal of zealous labour and attention, many persons did succeed in producing good crops; and there was not only bread made from “Cobbett’s corn,” but paper was made from the stalks.

A most particular aversion of Mr. Cobbett’s was the potato.

“This root is become a favourite because it is the suitable companion of misery and filth. It can be seized hold of before it be half ripe, it can be raked out of the ground with the paws, and without the help of any utensils except, perhaps, a stick to rake it from the fire, can be conveyed into the stomach, in the space of an hour. We have but one step farther to go, and that is, to eat it raw, side by side with our bristly fellow-creatures, who, by-the-bye, reject it as long as they can get at any species of grain, or at any other vegetable. I can remember when the first acre of potatoes was planted in a field, in the neighbourhood of the place where I was born; and I very well remember that even the poorest of the people would not eat them. They called them hog-potatoes; but now they are become a considerable portion of the diet of those who raise the bread for others to eat.”