A Memoir of Thomas Bewick / Written by himself

by Thomas Bewick

“If aught on earth th’ immortal powers deride,

’Tis surely this,—the littleness of pride.”

This kind of treatment, so long shown to the people of France, could be endured no longer. They, indeed, seemed heartily disposed to settle a rational and just representative government quietly themselves; but this did not suit the views of the surrounding despots, to whom the very word liberty was offensive, and it was determined, at once, that this attempt of the people to resume their rights should instantly be overwhelmed. For this purpose, immense armed and well-disciplined mercenaries were gathered together, and almost surrounded the country. Thus situated, and remembering the traditionary tales handed down to them of the cruelties and oppressions under which their forefathers had groaned, the French people could not bear their condition any longer. They were driven to madness, and instantly retaliated upon their oppressors, who, they conceived, meant that they and their children’s children should continue to be doomed for ages to come. In this state of the public mind, the French people rose simultaneously, as one man, and with unconquerable energy and bravery, like a whirlwind, swept the advocates and the armies of despotism from off the face of the earth. Thus roused, this confederacy of Legitimates, finding or fearing that they might be baffled in their attempts, looked to England for support; and grieved, indeed, were the advocates of rational liberty to find that these enemies to freedom had not looked in vain; for the government of this free country and free people—long veering, indeed, from the line of rectitude—had readily found pretexts for entering into a war in support of despotism; and war was begun, in the year 1793, against the republican government of France.

It had long been the settled opinion of many profound politicians, that corruption had spread, and was spreading, its baneful influence among the members of the government of this kingdom; and that the majority cared nothing about maintaining the constitution in its purity, which to them was become like an old song. In this state of things, with Mr. Pitt at their head, and the resources of the British Isles in their hands, it was calculated upon as a certainty that his weight, added to the already powerful confederacy, would soon put a stop to the march of intellect, and, if found necessary, put an extinguisher upon the rights of man.

It is horrible to contemplate the immense destruction of human beings, and the waste of treasure, which followed and supported this superlatively wicked war. Under the mask of patriotism, Mr. Pitt had begun his career, but he soon changed sides, and, blinded perhaps by ambition, became the powerful advocate of an opposite and perverted order of things. Thus situated, nothing could to a certainty serve his purpose so well as corruption; and the House of Commons had long been growing into a state befitting his purpose; for its members had, in a great degree, ceased to be the representatives of the people, and he had now only to begin an invigorated, new, or more extended system of place and patronage to have the majority at his nod; and, in aid of this, to add an extension of the peerage. This demi-oligarchy, cemented together by feelings of rapacious interests, in his hands was the best organised system of extorting money that ever had appeared in the world. They met together to tax—tax—tax; and, under various pretexts, to rob the people “according to law,” and to divide the spoil amongst themselves and their friends. Arbitrary laws were enacted, gagging bills were passed, and a system of espionage spread over the kingdom to keep the people down, many of whom seemed to have forgotten the exertions of their forefathers, whose blood had been spilt to purchase a better order of things. I felt particularly hurt at the apathy of country gentlemen in these (politically considered) worst of times. Their faculties seemed benumbed; but, indeed, most of them fell into the vortex of corruption themselves. They appeared to me to have lost their former independent character, and to be now looking out to that evil source as a provision for the younger branches of their own families, unmindful of all other ill consequences, which this selfishness blindly supported and maintained. The minions of power were countenanced and protected, by which they became insolent and impudent, and walked in stately array, hand in hand, in safety. Although the friends of liberty and the constitution were both numerous and intrepid, yet, for want of what they termed respectable heads, they were widely spread and divided, and their efforts proved in vain. There was also an intermediate or neutral race, consisting of those who had not laid down any principle to guide them. They were mostly such as advocated the cause of corruption; and, in listening to them, I was disgusted at their senseless arguments. They were proof against reasoning, and thoroughly convinced me that “a wise man changes his opinion, but a fool never does.” They, however, kept on the safe side; they were loyal; and the gist of their arguments, with which they ended all their disputes, were summed up in this—“If you do not like your country, leave it. What do you want? are not we very well off?” Their reflecting powers reached no further, and they could not see by what slow degrees the arm of despotism had so often circumspectly stretched its iron hand over the liberties of the people, and then crushed them.

While bickerings and debatings were going on amongst politicians at home, the Continent was deluged with the blood of many destructive battles. The sea was also crimsoned in the same way; and it was on this element that the tide of affairs was first turned in favour of Britain, who now, by the valour of her seamen, reigned complete “mistress of the deep,” and the commerce of the world seemed to be poured into her lap. Estates rose in value to an extraordinary height, and the price of grain, &c., still more so. The shipping interest wallowed in riches; the gentry whirled about in aristocratic pomposity; they forgot what their demeanour and good, kind, behaviour used to be to those in inferior stations of life; and seemed now far too often to look upon them like dirt. The character of the richer class of farmers was also changed. They acted the gentleman very awkwardly, and many of them could not, in these times, drink anything but wine, and even that was called “humble port.” When these upstart gentlemen left the market, they were ready to ride over all they met or overtook on the way; but this was as nothing compared to the pride and folly which took possession of their empty or fume-charged heads, when they got dressed in scarlet. They were then fitted for any purpose, and were called “yeomanry cavalry.” Pride and folly then became personified. When peace came, it brought with it a sudden fall in the price of corn; but the taxes continuing the same to them, and rents still keeping high, they, with few exceptions, suddenly experienced a woful change. I cannot say, after seeing so much of their folly, that I was sorry for them; for they mostly deserved this reverse of fortune. Not so with the industrious labourer. His privations were great, and he was undeservedly doomed to suffer for want of employment, and often to waste away and die of hunger and want.

During the greater portion of the war, the landowners may be said to have paid little or nothing to support it; for the extra rents paid almost all their taxes; but at length the evils brought on by so long a war fell also heavily upon numbers of them, who, on account of tithes and taxes with which the land was loaded, could hardly get any rent at all.

It will seem a wonder to future ages how the British people could so long have supported the squandered expenditure of the government; still they were not like the long-worn-down subjects of continental despots; for what the latter can get from their subjects is like clippings from the back and sides of swine, while the ingenuity, the industry, and the energy of the British people furnish the well-grown fleeces of sheep. Pity it is that they should have been so often wickedly shorn to the bare skin.

This state of temporary prosperity, to which I have alluded, incited to agricultural improvements; and societies for the promotion, and premiums for the encouragement, of various desiderata blazed forth over a great part of the kingdom. Cattle, sheep, horses, and swine, all of which were called “live stock,” occupied a great deal of attention, and in the improvement of the various breeds agriculturalists succeeded to a certain, and in some cases, perhaps, to a great extent. And yet I cannot help thinking that they often suffered their whimsies to overshoot the mark, and in many instances to lead them on to the ridiculous.

After all,—these enquiries having opened the eyes of the landlords to their own interests,—it is not unlikely that the man of industry, the plain, plodding farmer will, without receiving any reward, have to pay for these improvements. My kind, my intimate friend, John Bailey, Esq., of Chillingham, in conjunction with another friend of mine, George Culley, Esq., of Fowberry, were the active, judicious, and sensible authors of many of the agricultural reports, in which they did not lose sight of the farmer. They wished to inculcate the principle of “to live and let live” between landlord and tenant.