In my walk towards Garrat, my attention was attracted by a pretty mansion, which pleased my eye, though the monotonous blows of its adjoining oil-mill annoyed my ear. The owner, Mr. Were, politely exhibited its details; and more mechanical ingenuity than is here displayed could not well be applied to aid the simple operation of extracting oil from linseed. A magnificent water-wheel, of thirty feet, turns a main shaft, which gives motion to a pair of vertical stones, raises the driving-beams, and turns a band which carries the seed, in small buckets, from the floor to the hopper. The shock on the entire nervous system, produced by the noise of the driving-beams as they fall on the wedges, is not to be described. The sense of hearing for the time is wholly destroyed, and the powers of voice and articulation are vainly exerted. The noise is oppressive, though a rebound, comparatively tuneful, takes place, till the wedge is driven home; but afterwards, the blows fall dead, and produce a painful jarr on the nerves, which affected me for several hours with a sense of general la.s.situde. The gardens of this sensible manufacturer evince considerable taste, and produce that agreeable effect which always results from the combination of comfort, rural beauty, and useful industry. A manufactory in a picturesque situation, surrounded by the usual characters of opulence, is one of the most pleasing features of an English landscape, combining whatever we most admire in nature and art, with moral a.s.sociations, that produce in the mind a sentiment of perfect satisfaction.

Nearer to Wandsworth, Homer would have found imagery by which to improve his description of the abode of Vulcan; for how feeble must have been the objects of this nature, which a poet could view on the sh.o.r.es of the Mediterranean, compared with the gigantic machinery of an English iron-foundry. The application of the expansive powers of nature, as a moving agent in the steam-engine; the means of generating and concentrating heat in our furnaces; the melting of iron; the casting of the fluid; the colossal powers of the welding hammer, the head of which, though a ton in weight, gives a stroke per second; the power of shears, which cut thick bars of iron like threads; the drawing out of iron hoops by means of rollers, and the boring of cannon, are the every-day business of one of these manufactories, all of which I saw going on at the same instant, without bustle or effort.

Iron, the most universal, the most durable, and most economical of the metals, is thus made subservient to the wants of man, at a time when his improvidence in the use of timber has rendered some subst.i.tute necessary. New applications are daily made of it, and a new face is, by its means, promised to society. Used as sleepers and bond-pieces in the brick-work of houses, it will extend their duration through many ages; and, as joists, rafters, and plates for roofs, it will defy the a.s.saults of storms and the ravages of fire. As railing for gardens, parks, and other enclosures, it combines elegance with security. As pipes for gas, or for water, it is justly preferred to lead or wood.

As frames for windows, it unites lightness with durability. As bedsteads, it excludes vermin; and, as square frames for bridge-pieces, it presents the triumph of human art. Yet these are only a few of its modern applications, for they are illimitable, and a description of the manufactories of Birmingham and Sheffield, of which iron is the staple, would fill a volume. On my remarking to the proprietor of this foundry, that the men mingled themselves with the fire like salamanders; he told me, that, to supply the excessive evaporation, some of them found it necessary to drink eight or ten pots of porter per day. Many of them presented in their brawny arms, which were rendered so by the constant exertion of those limbs; and in their bronzed countenances, caused by the action of the heat and the effluvia, striking pictures of true sons of Vulcan; and, except in occasional accidents, they enjoyed, I was told, general good health, and often attained a hearty old age.

In regard to these manufactories, I learnt, that the application of machinery in them saves two-thirds of the manual labour; or, in other words, that a triple effect is produced by the union of a given number of hands, with appropriate machinery. In this we rejoice; but, from our past experience of the effects, I ask emphatically, #Why#? If in this age the same necessaries and luxuries are produced by one-third of the manual labour which was required in the age of Elizabeth, it is evident that the English of this day ought to subsist as well by working not more than half as much as in the days of Elizabeth, or our boasted machinery is useless. By making the wind, the water, the elastic fluids, and new combinations of the mechanical powers, perform our labour, we compel Nature to work for us; and, though in a northern lat.i.tude, we place ourselves in the very situation of the inhabitants of the Tropics, where the ever-bountiful climate feeds the people with slight exertions of manual labour. Yet, is such the effect? Enquire of our labouring cla.s.ses, who toil for inadequate subsistence from twelve to fifteen hours per day! Does not some malevolent influence then deprive us of the advantages of our ingenuity? Doubtless it is so; and the #Demon of War#, who has so long hovered over this deluded nation, and whose calls for blood and treasure are so insatiable, is the sufficient cause. But on this subject the voice of reason and humanity have been raised so often, that it seems to be as useless as the appeals of a mother, standing on the seash.o.r.e, to the tempest which is destroying her children in a visible wreck. Infatuated nations are like exhilarated dram-drinkers; they ridicule and despise warning, till a palsy or apoplexy renders them a proverb among their neighbours, and brings on a death-bed, but unavailing, repentance!

I had not time to view any of the other ingenious and valuable manufactories of this place; but, perceiving that the manufacturers formed a numerous and opulent cla.s.s of inhabitants, and that there were many elegant mansions of families living on their fortunes, besides many respectable shop-keepers, I was induced to seek information in regard to the state of society and mutual intercourse in a country-town possessing such capabilities. On enquiring at the princ.i.p.al Inn, I found that a subscription-a.s.sembly was held six times in the year, at an expence of three guineas, but it had only thirty-two subscribers, though within a mile there then were a hundred families that kept their own carriages, and another hundred qualified by habit and manners to give and receive pleasure at such an entertainment. I learnt, however, that this solitary establishment, the only means by which the inhabitants can practically feel that they do not live in a wilderness, is poisoned at its source by a strict ballot, which places the privilege of admission in the discretion of any two or three narrow-minded and impertinent persons, who may have become directors. Of course, no man of sense or delicacy would ever expose himself and family to the insult of being black-balled; and these inst.i.tutions, which are calculated to promote general happiness, become, in consequence, a source of mortification to the majority of a neighbourhood, and of petty and inadequate gratification to those whose inanity of character, or obsequiousness of manners, have rendered them tolerable to the family, or small junto, who usually take it upon themselves to govern such a.s.semblies.

Some observations on this subject merit record, because happiness is the end of life, the proper business of study, and the true object of all disquisition; and there is no point in which families are rendered more uncomfortable, and in which the spirit of caprice and tyranny is more successfully exerted, than in the inst.i.tution and conduct of country a.s.semblies; while, at the same time, nothing would be easier than to render them a means of happiness to all who are capable of it.

It is evident, that many persons, by habit and education, are ill-adapted to take part in the polite amus.e.m.e.nts of an a.s.sembly; that some men are odious by their vices; and that many females of equivocal character ought not to be allowed to mix with the virtuous part of the s.e.x; consequently, every inhabitant of a district ought not to be admitted to join in amus.e.m.e.nts which imply the contact of dancing and cards. It is also too certain, that a contemptible and unworthy pride often accompanies the wealth which a.s.sumes an ascendancy in a.s.semblies; that scandal and falsehood more commonly govern the decisions of society than charity and truth; and that the base pa.s.sions of envy and malice mix themselves more or less with all human conduct. What then is the security against the intrusion of the vicious? A ballot, in which one black-ball in ten, or sometimes two or three among the whole body of the subscribers, operate as an exclusion, that is to say, are a means of setting a mark on a family, and placing it at issue with a considerable portion of the neighbourhood! What a pernicious engine for the gratification of pride, scandal, envy, and malice! What an inquisition of the few bad by which to torment the many good! What a dagger in the hands of tolerated a.s.sa.s.sins! In short, what a perversion of reason, what a disease in the very bosom of society, what a lurking demon stationed at the threshold of every happy family, to blast and thwart the modest ambition of its amiable members! Doubtless, in and near Wandsworth, a mistaken const.i.tution in the system of ballot renders a hundred families uncomfortable, while the thirty-two elect are not benefitted.

The principle, therefore, is erroneous, and exclusion should result only from a _majority_ of black-b.a.l.l.s. For the honour of our nature we may presume, that a majority of men are not governed by bad pa.s.sions; at least, our only security consists in its not being so: it may, therefore, be presumed, that a majority of black-b.a.l.l.s would be fair evidence of a fault in the candidate rather than in the electors.

Perhaps, a simple majority ought to be decisive; but, to guard against the intrigues of bad pa.s.sions, the decision would be more just if two-thirds were required to be black-b.a.l.l.s; for it may be safely trusted, that no third of a respectable a.s.sembly will ever vote for the admission of a character truly objectionable.

"But am I to mix," exclaims one of my starch female readers, "with members whom I do not like, or give up my subscription to the a.s.sembly." "Unquestionably, Madam; your dislikes ought not to be gratified--your hatred and prejudice are odious vices, which you ought to keep at home, where you can invite whomsoever you like, and reject those whom you dislike; but a public a.s.sembly is the property of society, whose happiness ought to be consulted in its arrangements, and which ought to be governed by general rules of morals and justice, and not by the bad pa.s.sions of the unworthy few."

After all, is it not matter of wonder, that only once a month, during the winter, any congregation of part of the inhabitants of Wandsworth takes place for purposes of amus.e.m.e.nt? Yet, is not this the general characteristic of English society, from the Orkneys to the Land's-End?

The inhabitants of populous districts or towns in Britain might as well, in regard to their intercourse with the community, live in the wilds of America or Siberia! 'Tis true, they a.s.semble on Sundays at church or chapel when their devotions forbid the gaiety which ought to vary the grave pursuits of life--and they meet also in the common receptacle of mortality in the parish cemetery--but they seldom or never meet to cheer life's dull round, to soften asperities, to remove formal distances, to cultivate friendships, and to perform social and neighbourly offices of courtesy and kindness. Why is there not, in every populous vicinage or adjoining to every town, a public gravelled, or paved, Walk, provided with covered and open seats, to which, from spring to autumn, the inhabitants might resort, and promenade between the hours of six and eight or nine. Might not such walk be rendered attractive, during those hours, by being provided with two, three, or four Musicians to play marches and lively airs, and increase the hilarity of the scene? A district would thus become social, and the inhabitants would know each other; though the proud need not mix with the humble more than would be agreeable. Such an arrangement would render less necessary those costly and vitiating excursions to watering-places, which are made in quest of similar gratifications; and they would render two hours of every twenty-four a period of enjoyment to tens of thousands, who now enjoy no relief from gloomy cares, except at the public-house, the card-table, or the backgammon-board. It would, moreover, be a cheap pleasure, supported by a rate of half-a-guinea per house per annum, while it would afford at least 1000 hours of innocent and healthful gratification to their families. To enumerate all the direct and collateral advantages must be unnecessary, because it would be difficult to imagine a single objection that could weigh against the obvious benefits. Society would then become a social state; and it would no longer be problematical, whether a man in a wilderness, separated from the bad pa.s.sions of his fellow-men, were not happier than he who is surrounded by them, but who has no counterpoise in their intercourse and affections? May these considerations sink deep into the minds of "Men of Ross," wherever they are to be found; and, if acted upon as they merit, I may perhaps live to form one of many happy groupes of village or parish promenades, which owe their origin to these observations.

As an infallible test of the intellectual cultivation and social dispositions of any town, I enquired of two dealers in books, whether there existed any Book-club, but was answered in the negative. A small collection of those beguilers of time, or cordials for _ennui_, called Novels const.i.tute a circulating library; and, judging from the condition of the volumes, this degree of literary taste is general among the females of this village. Far be it from me to depreciate the negative merits of novel-reading, because the majority tend to improve the heart, to direct the sensibilities and sympathies of the mind, and to create many liberal and rational reflections, to which without Novels their readers might have been total strangers. This is no small praise of any pursuit; yet the same and still higher purposes would be attained, if real, rather than fict.i.tious, life were the object of study; if we enquired after man as he was, is, and ever will be, instead of satisfying ourselves with the contemplation of him in the false colourings, distorted positions, and caricature resemblances, of many works of fiction. There can, however, exist no moral agent more effective than a good novel, wherein Attention is rivetted by the author's fancy, Taste is fascinated by his style, and Errors, Prejudices, and Follies of the hour are corrected by his powers of ridicule or argument. To instruct as well as to amuse--to speak great truths in epigrams--to exhibit the substance of sermons without sermonizing--to be wise without appearing so--to make philosophers trifle, and triflers philosophize--to exhibit precept in action--and to surprise the judgment through the medium of the pa.s.sions and the love of the marvellous,--ought to be the purposes of those who cultivate this interesting branch of literary composition.

Yet, unsociable as is Wandsworth, it is in that respect like all the villages round London. Gay and splendid as they appear to the summer visitor, nothing can be more dull and monotonous than the lives of their constant residents. Made up of the mushroom aristocracy of trade, whose rank, in its first generation, affords no palpable ground of introduction--of pride, whose importance, founded on the chances of yesterday, is fed on its self-sufficiency--of individuals whose consequence grows neither out of manners, intellectual endowments, superior taste, nor polished connections--and of inhabitants of a metropolis, among whom shyness of intercourse is necessary as a security against imposture--it is not to be wondered that most of the showy mansions in these villages are points of repulsion rather than of attraction. It must, however, be conceded, that many of these families are hospitable, charitable, sociable, and anxious to be agreeable--qualities which would serve as the basis of systems of more liberal intercourse, if properly directed, and if cherished in such establishments as book-clubs, periodical a.s.semblies, and evening promenades. Nor should it be forgotten that many of the proprietors of these mansions consider them as mere retreats from the craft and selfish jargon of the world, in which, to enjoy the contrast afforded by the simplicity of nature, they court Solitude, for its own sake, during their temporary residence from evening till morning, and from Sat.u.r.day till Monday.

In a Village once famous for its manufactories, which, as the effect of the wicked Policy that involved the country in twenty years'

warfare, have lost their powers of giving employment to the population whom they had drawn together, I was naturally led to inquire the condition of these helpless victims of deluded and deluding statesmen.

What an affecting topic for the contemplation of Sensibility! How painful the condition of Poverty, contrasted with that of Wealth; yet how closely are they allied, and how advent.i.tiously separated! The Rich solace themselves in a fancied exemption from the miseries and ignominy which attach to the Poor, though their daily experience of the caprice of fortune ought to teach them, that, while they have the power, it would be wiser to diminish the contrast by ameliorating the condition of Poverty! How glorious is the spectacle afforded by the contrast of civilized society, with the wretched condition of savages, though that justly admired civilization is often but a result of artifices that create the distinctions of rich and poor! What a gulph between the ancient Britons in the social equality of their woods and caverns, and the favoured English in their luxurious cities and magnificent palaces! Yet, alas! wealth and splendour and greatness are such only by contrast!--Wherever there are rich there must be poor--wherever there is splendour there must be misery--and wherever there are masters there must be servants. These conditions of men in society are like the electrical power in nature, which never indicates its positive qualities without creating corresponding negations; and which, when equally diffused, exhibits no phenomena. If then men are rich merely because they have abstracted or absorbed the wealth of others, their obligations, as moral and sympathetic creatures towards those by whose abas.e.m.e.nt they are exalted, can require no formal proof. The laws may allow, and the arrangements of society may require, as a condition of civilization, that the rich should enjoy their ascendency; but it is neither just, nor wise, nor decent, nor humane, nor necessary, that the poor should be deprived of benefits which ought to result to the whole family of man, from the triumphs of Art over Nature. All are bound cheerfully to concede to superiority in virtue and intellect, those advantages which are the result of virtuous and intellectual exertions; but, as common descendants of the once-equal Britons, the lowest are warranted in claiming, as matter of right, to be as well fed and as comfortably provided for, on performing, or on evincing a willingness to perform, the duties of their stations, as their equal ancestors among the Britons, or society at large cannot be said to have profitted by our boasted civilization.

To adjust these intricate relations, so that all virtue may partake in its sphere of the gifts of nature, augmented by the ingenuity of man, is the arduous, but interesting, task of wise legislation. It would not be reasonable to expect, that every case should be met, and every exigency antic.i.p.ated, by adequate arrangements; but it is the duty of power, in whomsoever it is placed, to exert itself with unremitting anxiety, so as in the arrangements of man to approximate to the dispositions of nature, which are always marked by inexhaustible abundance, by appropriate benevolence, and by means commensurate to suitable and desirable ends.

Under the influence of such reasoning, I made a variety of enquiries between Battersea and Wandsworth, relative to the condition of the poor. I learnt with grief that the payment of day-labourers varies from 2_s._ 6_d._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ per day, or on an average is not more than 12_s._ per week; of women from 1_s._ 3_d._ to 1_s._ or about 6_s._ per week; and of children from 9_d._ to 6_d._ or 4_s._ per week; though, for the two last cla.s.ses there is sufficient employment for only half the year. A poor man, who had a wife and three children to maintain on 14_s._ per week, told me, that for many months he and his family had been strangers to meat, cheese, b.u.t.ter, or beer--that bread, potatoes, nettles, turnips, carrots, and onions, with a little salt, const.i.tuted the whole of their food--that during the winter months he was obliged to rely on the parish--that in case of sickness he and his children had no resource besides the workhouse--and that, though it had pleased G.o.d to take two of his children, it was better they should go to heaven than continue in this wicked and troublesome world. "But I don't think," said he, "the gentlefolk saves much by running down we poor so nation hard, for we are obligated to get it on the parish, which they pay; so it's all one; though it grieves a poor man, as one may say, to apply to them overseers, and to have no hope but the workhouse at last."

I agree with this humble Economist that it seems to be as ungenerous as impolitic to throw on the poor's rates a burthen which ought to be borne by those who profit from the labour thus inadequately remunerated. It could not, and ought not, to be difficult to fix a minimum (not a maximum) on twelve hours' labour per day, such as should be sufficient to support an average-sized family. Suppose for bread and flour 6_s._ were allowed; for meat, cheese, b.u.t.ter, milk, and beer, 4_s._; for potatoes, &c. 2_s._ candles, soap, and coals, 2_s._ cloathing 3_s._ 6_d._ house-rent 2_s._ 6_d._ sundries 1_s._--total 21_s._ Here is nothing superfluous, nothing but what appertains to the earliest stages of civilization, and what every well-arranged society ought to be able to give in return for manual labour of the lowest kind. With inferior means the labourer must suffer the obloquy of being remunerated from the parish rates, to which all are forced to contribute as fully as though the employer paid the fair value of the labour in the first instance, and the amount were a.s.sessed on the price of his commodity, instead of being a.s.sessed in the form of poor's rates.

It being, however, the _favourite_ system to pay the difference between what the labourer receives, and what he ought to receive, through the medium of the workhouse or parish officers, I anxiously directed my way to #Wandsworth Workhouse#, to examine whether it was an asylum of comfort or a place of punishment? On my entrance I found the hall filled with a crowd of poor persons, then applying to receive a weekly stipend from the overseers, who, with other parish-officers, were a.s.sembled in an adjoining apartment. Many women with infants at their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and other children clinging round their knees, presented interesting subjects for poets and painters. Every feeling of the human heart, though in the garb of rags, and bearing the aspect of misery, evidently filled the various individuals composing this groupe. I pressed forward to the room, where I found the overseers were sitting at a table, covered with bank-tokens and other silver for distribution. They received me politely, and, on learning my wish to view the interior, directed the matron to accompany me. The manners and countenances of these overseers flatly contradicted the prejudices which are usually entertained against persons filling the office; and it gratified me to hear several of the poor, whose characteristic is said to be discontent, exclaim, "G.o.d bless 'em, they're n.o.ble gentlemen."

The matron conducted me into a s.p.a.cious yard, round which are suites of rooms, built in the manner of alms-houses, a plan which cannot be too much commended, because it sufficiently detaches the tenants of each, secures to every set their peculiar comforts, and may be rendered the means of separating virtue from vice. In the middle of the area stand the offices and kitchen, dividing it into two yards, one for the men, and the other for the women. The whole had been recently white-washed, and, but for the name of work-house, and certain restraints on their habits and liberty, it seemed calculated to secure the comfort of its inmates.

The matron took me into several of the men's rooms, and here I found tottering grey hairs, crippled youth, inveterately diseased of all ages, and artizans dest.i.tute of employment. Six or eight were in a room, though I was informed they slept for the most part but one in a bed. A fine young girl about twelve years old, who had slipped out of the women's yard, was seated by the side of her father, an interesting looking artizan, whose trade had ceased to afford him employment.

This, I found, was contrary to the discipline of the house, and the matron chid the girl for coming there; "however," said she to me in an under-tone, with great good nature--"one can't blame a child for getting to her father, nor the father for encouraging his child to come over to him."--"No, madam," said I, "and no one can blame you for granting such an indulgence, while all must admire the goodness of heart which dictates that sentiment." Would to G.o.d, thought I, that all workhouses were governed by matrons as capable of sympathizing with the feelings of the unfortunate inmates; and that all those who embitter poverty by directing the separation of parents from their children, and husbands from their wives, may themselves become the object of their own law!

My guide now led me to a room where lived a man, his wife, and children, a sawyer out of work, whose eyes were so affected by the dust that falls into the pit, as to render him incapable of following his employment. His pride, as well as that of his wife, seemed to be piqued at being exhibited to view in the workhouse, and they took much pains to convince me that it was their misfortune, not their fault or their wish. Two fine children, one of them a chubby happy creature, playing on the floor, added to the groupe an interest that was deeply affecting. Doubtless, thought I, these simple people once entertained many projects of humble ambition, which, if explained, might draw a smile from the great--but here, alas! they seem to be entombed for ever!

I now took a cursory view of the women's yard, in which I found the same appearances of cleanliness and comfort as on the men's side. But the most interesting scene was the nursery, where sixteen little cherubs, the oldest about five years, were engaged in their innocent diversions, regardless whether they were in a workhouse or a palace, and unsuspicious of the ills that await them in a world governed by selfishness, where the greatest of all crimes, and the forerunner of all calamities, is poverty! I was pleased to find that the mother of three of them was allowed to fill the office of nurse, and the tears trickled down the poor woman's face, as I particularly admired one fine boy, who, it happened, was her child. "Ah! Sir, (said she,) he's so like his poor father!--my poor husband little thought, when he died, that his dear children would so soon be in a workhouse"--here her tears and loud sobs stopt her utterance; but, recovering herself--"if I can't maintain 'em with the labour of my hands, (said she,) I will do what I can for 'em here; there is no other happiness for me in this world, and I will continue to do for them till G.o.d shall please to take me also." A woman's and mother's tears are so contagious, and the scene before me formed so deep a drama of real life, that I hurried from the room!

The good matron now showed her cleanly kitchen, her well-arranged laundry, pantry, bakehouse, &c. &c., with which my feelings were not at that moment in unison; I saw, however, much to admire and nothing to condemn. On inquiry, I found that these excellent regulations were the effect of a late revolution in the establishment. Till a very recent period, it had been the criminal practice of the overseers, and the negligent sufferance of the parish, to #FARM# or #LET OUT# the poor to some grim tyrant or task-master, at the average rate of 5_s._ 6_d._ per head! This man was to provide for these wretched victims of the public neglect, and of his miscalculation, out of 5_s._ 6_d._ per week, rent exclusive; and his remuneration consisted in the difference between their cost and that pitiful allowance. The cries of the poor at length forced their way to the ears of the opulent, the contractor was turned out, and it was then humanely determined that the overseers, aided by a master and matron, should in future superintend the workhouse as trustees for the parish.

I understood that they had hitherto performed this duty with great attention and humanity, giving meat-dinners four days in the week, and soup-dinners on the other days, the cost proving about 6_s._ 9_d._ per head, on the one hundred poor in the house, of whom forty were children. In the petty labours with which the aged, crippled, and infant poor are too often hara.s.sed in these receptacles, they had, as yet, made no essays. The stipends out of the house amounted, I learned, to nearly as much as the cost within, or to about 30_l._ per week, which, at 2_s._ 6_d._ per head, a.s.sists two hundred and forty objects, making a total charge on the parish of from 3 to 4000_l._ per annum.

How many parishes in the metropolis still, however, persist in the negligent practice of farming their wretched poor at only 4_s._ or even 3_s._ 6_d._ per week! And how few of the opulent, idle, and well-intentioned of the parishioners, concern themselves about their condition or sufferings! When the overseer calls for the rates, they perhaps complain so heavily of the amount, that he fears to increase the allowance, however sensible he may be of its necessity; or, perhaps, when accosted by a beggar in the street, they excuse themselves by quoting their large contributions to the rates, and refer the despairing wretch to the workhouse! How inc.u.mbent then to see what that workhouse is!--Whether its arrangements are not more fitted for dogs or pigs, than for rational and heart-broken fellow-creatures, however unequal in fortune, or however differing even in virtue! Let us then neither wonder nor complain, that our streets or highways are filled with objects of misery, preferring the cold ground, the unsparing storm, and the inclemency of seasons, to the provisions legally provided for them; if we have not had the industry to ascertain, the courage to reform, and the benevolence to improve, the condition of their parochial asylums!

The reader of sensibility will not, I trust, complain of the length of details on an object which interests every son and daughter of Britain. The other demands on my time allowed me to spend but twenty minutes in this receptacle of the helpless and unfortunate; yet what a volume of feelings and reflections were excited in that short period!

We have had a #Howard#, I exclaimed, who visited our gaols and alleviated the condition of those who are forced to drink the dregs of the cup of misery, from the iron-hearted and unsparing hands of lawyers, whose practices are sometimes countenanced by the incorrigible character of criminals! We have a #Webb#, who vainly a.s.saults the giant Penury on the King's highway, but whose frightful strides outstrip his generous speed!--We want then some #ANGEL#, in the form of man, who, uniting the courage and perseverance of a #Howard# with the liberality of a #Webb#, will visit and report on the condition of our Workhouses. But, if, as every parish contains its workhouse, and every county but one gaol, the task in consequence is too great for one life, though actuated by the G.o.dlike zeal of a #Wesley#; then it is a task worthy of parish committees, composed of groupes of Angels, in the form of benignant Women, who will find, that the best-spent and the happiest morning of every month would be pa.s.sed in a visit to the workhouse; where, with slender alms, kind advice, and fostering care, they would be able to soothe the sorrows of the aged widow,--to comfort the sick and helpless,--to pour balm into the mental wounds of those who are reduced from affluence by misfortune,--to raise from hopeless indigence modest merit, which never found a friend,--and to protect orphan children, who need advice and pilotage in their outset in life. No pampered minion of fortune need complain of _ennui_, or be anxious for new amus.e.m.e.nts, in whose parish there exists a workhouse. It is a Stage on which Dramas, serious or tragical, are every day performed; the interest of which is created by no tricks of the author or machinist, but in which the performers play their parts according to nature, always touching the most sensitive chords of the heart. No spectator ever came away from one of these houses without having his feelings wrought up by actors of all ages, who far outstrip our Siddonses, Kembles, Bettys, Youngs, or Keans, and whose pet.i.t dramas excel those of Shakespeare, Rowe, or Otway, in the degree in which suffering and unsophisticated Nature is superior to the trappings and blandishments of Art.

Wandsworth having engaged me above an hour, I endeavoured to recover my loitering, by a rapid pace towards #Putney Heath#, where a crowd of objects presented themselves for description and observation.

The road from #Wandsworth# to #Putney Heath# ascends with a gentle slope, which is inclined about six degrees from the horizontal plane.

Wandsworth itself lies little above the level of the Thames at high water; and, as this road ascends nearly a mile, with an angle which averages six degrees, the height of Putney and the adjoining Wimbledon Common may be taken at about the tenth of a mile, 180 yards, or 540 feet. The ascent of one yard in ten gives that gentle fall to the road, which, in a smaller degree, ought to be conferred artificially on all roads, in order that they might drain lengthways, and that the argillaceous earth might be carried off in solution, and only the hard bed of silex remain behind. This beautiful piece of road is a fine exemplification of that principle; but an elevation of two degrees, or nearly one yard in thirty, would be sufficient for the purpose; and, if the rise and fall in flat roads were made to take place at every quarter of a mile, the difference between the bottoms and tops would be about fifteen yards. In general, the natural inequalities of the country would a.s.sist such a system of philosophical road-making; but, notwithstanding the first labour, it merits no less respect in all dead levels, as the only means of carrying off their standing water and clay, and of establishing a hard bottom, which, when once formed, would last for many years. Any person who has not duly regarded this principle, will be struck with its justness, by taking notice, during a journey, of any piece of road from which the road-makers have been unable to turn a stream of running water; and he will find, that it possesses a hard smooth bottom, and stands less in need of repair than any road in the same vicinity. Let us then take a lesson from nature on this subject, as we do on all others when we evince our modesty and wisdom.

The objection to this form of roads, founded on the increase of draught required in ascending one side of the inclined plane, has no validity. An inclination of two degrees rises one yard in thirty; consequently, such a power as would draw thirty tons on level ground, must, other circ.u.mstances alike, be equal to thirty-_one_ tons on a road so inclined. The resistance of friction in roads which permit the wheels to sink into them, rises, however in a much higher proportion.

It may be a.s.sumed, that wheels which sink but half an inch, would require an increased draught of an eighth, or, in the above instance, of 2-1/2 tons; if an inch, they would require a fourth more, or 7-1/2 tons; if two inches, a half increase, or fifteen tons; and at three inches, the power would be required to be double. Different soils, and different wheels, would indicate different proportions, but the above may be taken as averages; and, when contrasted with the small increase of power, rendered necessary by the ascent of an inclined plane, the latter, on the ascending half of any road, will appear to be unimportant.

The Emperor Napoleon, who endeavoured to apply philosophy to all the arts of life, decreed, that no public road in France should exceed an inclination of 4 46', or rise more than one metre in twelve. This proportion, it was estimated, would combine the maxima and minima of the powers; and, in spite of those malignant confederacies which he was so often called upon to overthrow, the labour of reducing many steep roads of France to this practicable inclination was accomplished, and hence the praises of the roads of that country which we read in the narratives of our tourists. England, which set the first example to Europe, in this branch of economy, ought not to allow itself to be outdone by the measures of a reign which it a.s.serted was incompatible with regal dignity; but, proceeding on correct principles, it ought in this case to imitate even a _bad_ example, and to correct its system of patching up its roads under the direction of surveyors, ignorant of general principles, and at the expence of local commissioners, who are interested in making their improvements on the narrowest scale. The rapid advancement of Great Britain in social comforts, within the last sixty years, may be ascribed to the turnpike system, which took the jurisdiction of the public roads out of the hands of parish-officers, and transferred it to commissioners of more extensive districts. A still further improvement is now called for by superadding the controul of a #NATIONAL ROAD POLICE#, which should equalize the tolls, or apply the whole to the unequal wants of various districts; so that roads of nearly equal goodness might characterize all parts of an empire which ought to be rendered one great metropolis, and to be united in means and fraternity by all the facilities of human art.

A stage-coach toiling against this road of six degrees inclination, and a flour-waggon traversing from side to side to lengthen the hypotheneuse, yet stopping at every hundred yards to enable the horses to recover their ordinary tone of breathing, proved the good policy of that law in France, which would have lowered this road at the top full thirty yards, and have extended the hypotheneuse three hundred and sixty yards under the level road at the summit. If the barbarity of the practice of tight-reining the heads of wretched horses needed any exaggeration, its superlative absurdity was evidenced in the horses which I saw labouring up this hill. Nature, which does nothing in vain, had a final purpose in giving motion to the vertebrae that join the head of an animal to the trunk. The moving head is, in truth, one of the extremities of that compound animal lever, whose fulcrum is the centre of gravity. The latter point is disturbed in its inertia, and acquires progressive motion by the action of the extremities of the lever, which are themselves moved by volition, whose seat is in the cranium; and the head, in consequence, is in all instances the first mover. The propulsion or vibration of the head puts the entire muscular system in motion, disturbs the balance on the centre of gravity, and so effects the sublime purposes of loco-motion in all animals. Yet it is this prime mover which the greater brutes, who profess themselves _knowing_ in the economy of horses, so tie up that it can in no way exert itself; and then they whip and spur the animal to force it to make new and unnatural exertions! Let any man, himself an erect animal, the powers of whose _primum mobile_ are divided between his head and his hands, cause his head to be so tied back and fastened behind as to force out his chest. In that position let him try his comparative powers in walking or running with speed and safety, or in carrying or drawing a load, and he will soon be convinced of the cruelty of the practice of tying up the head of a horse for no other purpose than that he may _look_ bold and n.o.ble!

#Wesley# and #Bakewell#, who rode more than any men of their time, told me that they had suffered from frequent falls, till, by attending to the evident designs of nature, they suffered the bridle of their horses to festoon in a semicircle; and since then, in riding thousands of miles, they had never endured even the anxiety of a stumble.

A pedestrian like the writer could not avoid feeling grateful to the constructor of this piece of road, for its beautiful and s.p.a.cious causeway, which extends from the village of Wandsworth to Putney Heath. It is in most parts seven feet wide, and it doubtless owes much of its hardness, smoothness, and dryness, to its declining position, which causes the water to run off, carrying with it in solution the argillaceous earth, and leaving a basis of pure but well pulverized silex. All who reside in the country, ladies particularly, know how to estimate the worth of a broad, smooth, and dry walk, by the miseries so generally suffered from those of a contrary description. For the sake, therefore, of the example and the precept, they will candidly excuse the eulogy extorted from a wandering pedestrian on meeting with so agreeable an accommodation in a district, which, in many respects, seems appropriated to the caprice of wealth. To supply the deficiency of our Road Bills, one sweeping law ought to enact that all turnpike roads should be provided with a raised causeway for foot pa.s.sengers, at least five feet wide, with cross posts at every furlong to prevent equestrians from abusing it, and with convenient seats at the end of every mile. It is too much to expect in these times to see realized the writer's favourite plan of #MILE-STONE# and #MARINE COTTAGES#, among a people who have pa.s.sionately mortgaged all their estates, and blindly enc.u.mbered all their industry, in paying the interest of money raised to carry on wars made for the purpose of regulating the independant governments of other countries!

The sides of this road and the openings of the distant landscape, excite the admiration of the eye of taste by the architectural and horticultural beauties of mansions which have sprung out of the profits or artifices of trade. The multiplication of these dormitories of avarice is considered by too many as the sign of public prosperity.

Fallacious, delusive, and mischievous notion! Was the world made for the many, or the few? Can any one become rich from domestic trade without making others poor; or can another bring wealth from foreign countries except by adding to the circulating medium, and thereby diminishing the value of money? In either case, what is the benefit to the public or the community? Yet a benefit is rendered visible--a fine house has arisen where there stood before but a wretched hovel--and a paradise has been created out of a sheep pasture!--The benefit, however, is merely to the individual! His pride and taste have been gratified, and this gratification is called a benefit--yet with him the benefit, if to him it really be so, begins and ends. But he employs the neighbourhood, patronizes the arts, and encourages trade?

Granted,--but whence come his means? His wealth is not miraculous. It has no exclusive or original properties. If he spend it at Putney, he must draw it from other places, either from rents of land or houses, or from interest of money, both the fruit of other's industry, and the sign of corresponding privations in those who pay them!

For the sake of the elegant arts, which derive their encouragement from the superfluities of the few, I am no enemy to any moderate inequalities of means which enable men to become examples of the good effects of industry; I merely object to the vulgar inference that splendid mansions serve as signs of the increasing wealth of a country. Better criterions would be the diffusion of plenty and comfort--abundance of smoking farm-houses and well-stored barns--#CHEAP PROVISIONS# and #DEAR LABOUR#--enough with moderate exertions for home consumption, and something to exchange for the luxuries of different climates. But it is no index of national prosperity that elegant villas rise like sun-flowers, as gaudy as unprofitable, while gaols are crammed with insolvents or needy culprits, and poor-houses are filled with wretchedness! Poland astonishes travellers by the splendour of its palaces; while in the same prospect they are shocked at the huts of the people, exhibiting the characteristics of English hog-sties! Let the increase of splendour, therefore, be considered rather as a proof of the derangement of social order, than as any sign of its triumph; and let us not forget that, however much fine houses may benefit and gratify the blameless and often meritorious occupants, they do not, as such, serve as any signs of increased opulence in the community at large.

On arriving near the top of this road, I obtained a distinct view of a phenomenon, which can be seen no where in the world but at this distance from London. The Smoke of nearly a million of coal fires, issuing from the two hundred thousand houses which compose London and its vicinity, had been carried in a compact ma.s.s in the direction which lay in a right angle from my station. Half a million of chimneys, each vomiting a bushel of smoke per second, had been disgorging themselves for at least six hours of the pa.s.sing day, and they now produced a sombre tinge, which filled an angle of the horizon equal to 70, or in bulk twenty-five miles long, by two miles high. As this cloud goes forward it diverges like a fan, becoming constantly rarer; hence it is seldom perceived at its extremity, though it has been distinguished near Windsor. As the wind changes, it fills by turns the whole country within twenty or thirty miles of London; and over this area it deposits the volatilized products of three thousand chaldrons, or nine millions of pounds of coals per day, producing peculiar effects on the country. In London this smoke is found to blight or destroy all vegetation; but, as the vicinity is highly prolific, a smaller quant.i.ty of the same residua may be salutary, or the effect may be counteracted by the extra supplies of manure which are afforded by the metropolis. Other phenomena are produced by its union with fogs, rendering them nearly opaque, and shutting out the light of the sun; it blackens the mud of the streets by its deposit of tar, while the unctuous mixture renders the foot-pavement slippery; and it produces a solemn gloom whenever a sudden change of wind returns over the town the volume that was previously on its pa.s.sage into the country. One of the improvements of this age, by which the next is likely to benefit, has been its contrivances for more perfect combustion; and for the condensation and sublimation of smoke. The general adoption of a system of consuming the smoke would render the London air as pure as that of the country, and diminish many of the nuisances and inconveniences of a town residence. It must in a future age be as difficult to believe that the Londoners could have resided in the dense atmosphere of coal-smoke above described, as it is now hard to conceive that our ancestors endured houses without the contrivance of chimneys, from which consequently the smoke of fires had no means of escape but by the open doors and windows, or through a hole in the roof!

On the left I pa.s.sed the entrance into the tastefully planned, but very useless, park of the justly esteemed #Earl Spencer#. It contains about seven hundred acres, disposed so as to please the eye of a stranger, but which, like all _home-spots_, soon lose, from their familiarity, the power of delighting a constant occupant. Why then appropriate so fine a piece of ground to so barren a purpose? Does the gratification of strangers, and the first week's pleasure to the owner, counterpoise the consideration that the same spot would afford the substantial ornament of ten farms, or subsistence to three hundred and forty cottages, with two acres of garden and pasture? The superb mansion of Lord Spencer, with all necessary garden-ground and pasturage, would not less ornament the landscape, nor be less ornamented by such an a.s.semblage of humbler happiness. Though a #Repton# might exhaust his magic art in arranging the still beauties of a park, yet how certainly would they pall on the eye after the daily survey of a month! Why then sacrifice to the pride of custom that which in other dispositions might add so much to the sum of happiness? Let the means of promoting the felicity of others const.i.tute part of our own; and, with the aid of the ornamental gardener, both objects might be combined. He would so dispose of his white-washed cottages, so groupe his farm-yards, and so cl.u.s.ter his trees, that from every window of the feudal mansion the hitherto solitary occupant might behold incessant variety, accompanied by the pleasing a.s.sociations growing out of prosperous industry and smiling plenty. Does Claude ever revel in solitudes? Does Poussin fascinate in exhibitions of mechanical nature? And when does Woollet enchant us but in those rich landscapes in which the woods are filled with peeping habitations, and scope given for the imagination by the curling smoke of others rising behind the trees?

On entering Putney Heath, my attention was drawn towards an obelisk which stands by the road-side, recording a wonder of the last age; and the liberal attention of the public authorities to a discovery which promised ulterior advantages to the community. Several recent Fires had led ingenious men to consider of the means of preventing similar catastrophes. One person improved water-engines, another suggested floors of stucco, and others contrived means of escape; but David Hartley, esq. a son of the ill.u.s.trious writer who traced to their sources the a.s.sociations of Ideas, and then a member of parliament, contrived to build a house which no ordinary application of ignited combustibles could be made to consume.

This house, still standing at the distance of a hundred yards from the obelisk, serves as a monument of the inventor's plans; but, like every thing besides, it recently excited the avarice of speculation, and, when I saw it, was filled with workmen, who where converting it into a tasteful mansion, adding wings to it, throwing out verandas, and destroying every vestige of its original purpose. One of the workmen shewed me the chamber in which, in 1774, the King and Queen took their breakfast; while, in the room beneath, fires were lighted on the floor, and various inflammable materials were ignited, to prove that the rooms above were fire-proof. Marks of these experiments were still visible on the charred boards. In like manner there still remained charred surfaces on the landings of the staircase, whereon fires had been ineffectually lighted for the purpose of consuming them, though the stairs and all the floorings were of ordinary deal! The fires in the rooms had been so strong that parts of the joists in the floor above were charred, though the boards which lay upon them were in no degree affected.

The alterations making at the moment enabled me to comprehend the whole of Mr. Hartley's system. Parts of the floors having been taken up, it appeared that they were double, and that his contrivance consisted in interposing between the two boards, sheets of laminated iron or copper. This metallic lining served to render the floor air-tight, and thereby to intercept the ascent of the heated air; so that, although the inferior boards were actually charred, the less inflammable material of metal prevented the process of combustion from taking place in the superior boards. These sheets of iron or copper, for I found both metals in different places, were not thicker than tinfoil or stout paper; yet, when interposed between the double set of boards, and, deprived of air, they effectually stopt the progress of the fire.

The House of Commons voted 2500_l._ to Mr. Hartley to defray the expences of this building; the sovereign considered it a popular act to give him countenance; and a patriotic lord-mayor and the corporation of London, to impress the public with deeper convictions of its importance, witnessed the indestructible property of the structure on the 110th anniversary of the commencement of the great fire of London. Yet the invention sunk into obscurity, and few records remain of it except the pompous obelisk and the wreck of this house.

It merits observation, that in modern-built Houses taste or accident has effected sufficient security against fires without any special preventives. Flame is only ungovernable when in its ascent it meets with combustible materials. Heat, as the principle of expansion, rarefies and volatilizes all bodies; and then, as the heavier give place to the lighter, so bodies subject to its action ascend, and carry up with them the principle, matter, or action of heat. A chief object therefore of man's policy in economizing fire, in subduing it to his use, and in governing its decomposing and destructive powers, should be to prevent its finding fuel in the ascent. No connected timbers ought therefore to join an inferior floor with a superior, so that, if one floor were on fire, its feeble lateral combustion might easily be extinguished with a mop and a pail of water, provided no train of combustibles were extended to the floor above. Such is the language of philosophy, and such the slight process of reason, by attending to which the habitations of men may at all times be secured against the calamity of fire. How absurd however was the construction of our houses till within the last twenty or thirty years! Wooden staircases, exposed wooden bal.u.s.ters, and wainscotted walls, coated with paints composed of oil and turpentine, and put together more like a train of combustibles, than the habitations of beings calling themselves rational! The taste of modern architecture has, however, corrected the evil; and stone staircases, iron bal.u.s.ters, plastered walls, and lofty rooms, contribute to cut off the communication, though a fire may have seized on a flooring, or on any articles of furniture. This security might however be further increased by more strictly regarding the principle; by cutting off all contact between floor and floor, made by wooden pilasters, window-shutters, &c.; by the more liberal introduction of iron; and by the occasional use of Hartley's iron or copper sheets.

By a.n.a.logous reasoning it is suggested to us, that, if those females whose clothes have taken fire, and whose head, throat, b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and arm-pits, are consequently exposed to the increasing intensity of an ascending flame, were instantly to throw themselves into an horizontal position, their vital parts would not only not be affected, but the lateral flame would be so trifling as to be easily and safely extinguished. What in human life can exceed in horror, the circ.u.mstance of a woman in full health, often in the middle of her friends and family, being roasted alive by combustibles fastened to her person, from which it is impossible to escape till her most sensitive parts have been reduced to a cinder! What crime ever perpetrated by human turpitude could have warranted a more dreadful fate! What demons, contriving mischief and torments, could have invented a combination of miseries so terrible and heart-rending? The decorations of beauty--the gratification of pride--even the humble means of health and comfort, are thus rendered the unmerciful instruments of the keenest sufferings, the most frightful sudden deaths, and the most dismal domestic tragedies! Yet the entire evil arises from the principle of the ascent of all heat; from the flame meeting in that ascent with fresh fuel to feed on, by which its intensity is progressively augmented; and then acting at its summit on the head, throat, and sensitive vital parts of the agonized victim.

The remedy therefore is simply to lie down, when the roaring flame of several feet high will be so reduced that it may be put out with the hands, with the other parts of the garments, or by any extraneous covering.

About a hundred yards from this fire-proof house, stands the Telegraph which communicates with Chelsea, and forms part of the chain from the Admiralty to Portsmouth and Plymouth. I learnt that there are twelve stations between London and Portsmouth, and thirty-one between London and Plymouth, of which eight are part of the Portsmouth line till they separate in the New Forest. Another chain, extending from London to Yarmouth, contains nineteen stations; and another from London to Deal contains ten stations; making in the whole system sixty-four telegraphs. The distances average about eight miles, yet some of them are twelve or fourteen miles; and the lines are often increased by circuits, for want of commanding heights. In the Yarmouth line particularly, the chain makes a considerable detour to the northward.

After about twenty years' experience, they calculate on about two hundred days on which signals can be transmitted throughout the day; about sixty others on which they can pa.s.s only part of the day, or at particular stations; and about one hundred days in which few of the stations can see the others. The powers of the stations in this respect are exceedingly various. The station in question is generally rendered useless during easterly winds by the smoke of London, which fills the valley of the Thames between this spot and Chelsea hospital; or more commonly between the shorter distance of the Admiralty and Chelsea. Dead flats are found to be universally unfavourable; and generally stations are useless nearly in the proportion of the miles of dead flat looked over. On the contrary, stations between hill and hill, looking across a valley, or series of valleys, are mostly clear; and water surfaces are found to produce fewer obscure days than land in any situation. The period least favourable of the same day is an hour or two before and after the sun's pa.s.sage of the meridian, particularly on dead levels, where the play of the sun's rays on the rising exhalations renders distant vision exceedingly obscure. The tranquillity of the morning and evening are ascertained to be the most favourable hours for observation.

A message from London to Portsmouth is usually transmitted in about fifteen minutes; but, by an experiment tried for the purpose, a single signal has been transmitted to Plymouth and back again in three minutes, which by the Telegraph route is at at least five hundred miles. In this instance, however, notice had been given to make ready, and every captain was at his post to receive and return the signals.

The progress was at the rate of one hundred and seventy miles in a minute, or three miles per second, or three seconds at each station; a rapidity truly wonderful! The number of signals produced by the English telegraph is sixty-three--by which they represent the ten digits, the letters of the alphabet, many generic words, and all the numbers which can be expressed by sixty-three variations of the digits. The signals are sufficiently various to express any three or four words in twice as many changes of the shutters.

The observers at these telegraphs are not expected to keep their eye constantly at the gla.s.s, but look only every five minutes for the signal to make ready. The telescopes are Dolland's Achromatics, at which one would wonder, if every thing done for governments were not converted into a job. The intention should have been to enable the observer to see the greatest number of hours; consequently the light should be intercepted by the smallest quant.i.ty of gla.s.s. Dollond's achromatics contain, however, six lenses, and possess no recommendation but their enlarged field, and their freedom from prismatic colours in that field; points of no consequence in looking through a fixed gla.s.s at a fixed and circ.u.mscribed object. The field of the Galilean telescope is quite large enough, and, having but two lenses, one of which is a thin concave, it exhibits the object with greater brightness, and therefore ought to have been preferred for this purpose. It seems strange also, that, to ease the operator, it has never been contrived to exhibit the fixed spectrum on the principle of a portable camera, so that, without wearying the eye, the changes of the distant telegraph might have been exhibited on a plain surface, and seen with both eyes like the leaf of a book. The application of optical instruments, between a fixed station and fixed object, ought to have been made in an appropriate manner, and not influenced by the practices which prevail in regard to moveable telescopes for various objects.