favourite pursuits of english cottagers and workmen.

in my last chapter i gave a general view of the present rural sports and pastimes of the peasantry—perhaps as it regards wrestling, more prominently than some readers might think judicious. but what is prominent in the country life of any part of england, it is my bounden duty to set before my readers; and there is no feature of english life more remarkable than the sanguine attachment of the people of some particular parts to particular sports; more especially where those sports have relaxed their ancient hold on the people in all other districts, or have refused to be engrafted on other districts; as golf continues to be one of the prime sports of scotland, but will not travel across the tweed. let us now, before closing the department of this work appropriated to the peasantry, notice some characteristic features, which i think must strongly interest us all.

after all, the happiness of a people is not found in their amusements. amusements may indicate, in a certain degree, that a people is happy; but real happiness is a thing of a more domestic nature. it is a lar, and belongs to the household, or is to be found in the quiet and enclosed precincts of home gardens. a great portion of the happiness of the common people is therefore little perceived, for it is unobtrusive; and consists in following out those peculiar biases and penchants, which in higher personages are termed genius. the genius of the working classes, which[542] from its deriving little help from science, or field of exercise from circumstance, is seldom admitted to be genius at all, still exhibits itself in a variety of ways, and contributes at once to their prosperity, their happiness, and to the stamping of individual character. a great deal of it is necessarily exerted in their particular trades, and produces all that is beautiful and exquisite in handicraft arts. that which gives an artisan eminence in the workshop of his master, would probably have produced specimens of art that would have claimed the admiration of the whole community. those glorious specimens of architectural perfection which adorn our chief cathedrals, the work of the middle ages, are the evidences of masonic skill, which in this age might probably have been employed on our plainer structures, or in building steam-engines, or elaborating some piece of plate, or carving the handles of parasols. circumstance has much to do in the decision of the fate of all genius and ingenuity. it is a striking fact, that the greater number of artisans who eminently excel in their own line, partake largely of the temperament and foibles of genius. they are often irregular in their application to business, fond of company and of its excitements; so that nothing is so common as to say, that man is an inimitable workman, but that he will not work half his time, and is too fond of the public-house, where he draws a circle of admirers around him. but when a man is at once skilful, steady, and enthusiastic in his art,—that man is a happy man. his mind has a constant subject of reflection, of exercise, of satisfaction, before it. he sees with pride the workmanship of his hands, and enjoys with as much inward delight the reputation and applause it brings him, as does a poet, a philosopher, or a conqueror the fame of their respective works.

but, in many others, the peculiar instinct shews itself in some other pursuit than their trade. it does not happen to them to have fallen upon that profession which would have called forth the slumbering spirit, and when it wakes it shews itself in some other form. these men are said to have their hobby. they have a favourite scheme, or occupation, which shares their attention with their trade, and often supersedes it. crabbe, that close observer of whatever passed in this grade of life, has well described these propensities. if they shew themselves in a man’s own trade:

[543]

then to the wealthy you will see denied

comforts and joys that with the poor abide;

there are who labour through the year, and yet

no more have gained than—not to be in debt;

who still maintain the same laborious course,

yet pleasure hails them from some favourite source;

and health, amusement, children, wife, or friend,

with life’s dull views their consolations blend.

but if the bias of the mind does not lie in the man’s own art:

nor these alone possess the lenient power

of soothing life in the desponding hour;

some favourite studies, some delightful care

the mind with trouble and distresses share;

and by a coin, a flower, a verse, a boat,

the stagnant spirits have been set afloat;

they pleased at first, and then the habit grew,

till the fond heart no higher pleasure knew.

oft have i smiled the happy pride to see

of humble tradesmen in their evening glee;

when of some pleasing,fancied good possessed,

each grew alert, was busy, and was blest.

whether the call-bird yield the hours delight,

or magnified in microscope, the mite;

or whether tumblers, croppers, carriers seize

the gentle mind, they rule it, and they please.

yes, it is in these and many other occupations, dictated by individual organization, or taste, that numbers of the working class find a world of happiness. some are amateurs of one kind, some of another; some are rearers of fancy pigeons, some of fancy dogs; others are enthusiasts in music, singing, bell-ringing, and make a noise in the world from belfries, organ-lofts, orchestras, at harmonic meetings, and in rural festivals. some spend a whole life in seeking the perpetual motion; some in devising improvements in steam-engines, and other machines. whether they deal with realities, or with chimeras, as too often they do, the busy spirit of humanity will be at work in the breasts of the operative class. in the country it assumes many a shape that is beautiful, and others that are picturesque. some are incorrigible poachers, from the love of the pursuit of wild creatures, of strolling about in solitary glens and woods, of night-watching, and adventure. others have an inextinguishable love of a gun,—these men all their lives are[544] noted for this propensity. they have a certain keeper-like appearance. they affect fustian or velveteen jackets, with wide skirts, and huge pockets; gaiters, and strong shoes. they have a lounging, yet unauthorized air, which betrays them to be not the true men of office. they have always some excuse for carrying a gun; they are stuffers of curious birds and animals; or they procure them for one who is; and it is alike amazing how they escape the penalties of the law for trespasses and destruction of game, and yet bring home such owls, squirrels, herons, sea-birds, curlews, plovers, martins, and fillimarts, shrikes, waxen-chatterers, and foxes, and young fawns, as are not to be obtained except by a traversing, daily and nightly, of parks, preserves, woods, and chases, as must be perilous, and, indeed, impracticable to any other men. noblemen and gentlemen generally find it desirable in the end, to instal this particular variety of the human species in all the honours and freedom of keepership. happy is the man of this stamp who reaches america. that is the land for him! a land of woods, of herds of deer, and turkeys, of bears and buffaloes. there he may roam the paradise of back settlements, and satiate his soul with hunting and shooting; with lying in wait, and with wild adventure, without fear of game-laws, and the obstructions of monopoly.

others, again, have an indomitable passion for hunting otters, badgers, polecats, rats, hedgehogs, and similar tenants of out-of-the-way dales, river-sides, thickets and plantations; and have perpetually at their heels, terriers of every kind, spaniels, and lurchers. these are generally well entitled to be classed under the head of ragamuffins; and are generally more than half poachers, being as ready to snap up a leveret, rabbit, or young wild duck, as they are to destroy a stoat. but the passion for their peculiar fancy is inextinguishable, and not to be put out by a whole bench of magistrates, or a voyage to new south wales, for there the dogs would instinctively muster at their heels, and they would be after the kangaroos at the very first opportunity.

a congener of these, and yet of a somewhat more civilized grade, is the bird-catcher and trainer. beware of your nightingales that come in april from some sunny land, and shew you the preference of settling for the season in your shrubbery, or coppice. if this man be your neighbour, the glorious song of midnight will[545] soon experience a mysterious hush. you hear it, and proclaim the news to your family. by day you catch its not-to-be-mistaken notes amongst the budding trees, as you pass in and out of your grounds. “there is the very same bird come to its favourite spot,” you say, to delight your wife, or sister, or children, who clap their hands, and run to carry the news into the housekeeper’s room. “there is the fine old nightingale again in the shrubbery!” at evening on are put bonnets and hats, shawls and cloaks, and forth sallies the happy domestic group. the air is chill, for it is but april; yet the moon is rising in her sweet pensiveness, and the freshness of the air and the budding boughs are about you. down the narrow path you go, where the primroses gleam faintly from amongst the mossy stems of the shrubbery trees. past the rustic summer-house you go, down by the close turf of the shadowy lawn—near to the brook, that flows so subduedly in its singing murmurs that it cannot drown a single bird-note. you have reached the little wooden bridge—and hark!—it is there sure enough! yes, to-night, and the next, and perhaps the next, it is there,—and then it is gone. you wonder why. can it have deserted its favourite haunt? can it be the stormy weather? the east wind must have silenced it? no! it is moping in the cage of that villanous bird-catcher, who is intending to aggravate his crime of kidnapping this prince of air-minstrels, by fetching the blackbird which sings on the top of your ash, and the thrush that flings back his notes from the distant elm. beware of your woodlarks, and your bullfinches, if this man be your neighbour. he has an ear which recognises in a moment the master singer, and he has a dozen arts to put in practice against his liberty. in his little house is a collection of prisoners that would make any reasonable person’s heart ache. he has blackbirds that are studying artificial tunes,—marches and waltzes—how much more apt one would think them to learn dirges and laments! but he has even poor robin redbreast put to school under the nightingale—bullfinches that are blinded, and then made to listen in doleful obedience to his flute or pipe. they are to be piping bullfinches of great note and value. but let us leave the melodious melancholy of his prison-house, and when we have lightened our hearts in the open air, we may muster up charity enough to do the man justice. he has, after all, no[546] lack of kindness in his heart. he takes them captive as the christians take negroes—to civilize them, and make them happier! his soul is in all that he does. i one day met an old man and woman in a wood. as i drew near them i heard a strange chirping of young birds. it was a fine summer evening. “how is this,” i said; “it is time for the birds to be at roost, and yet i hear young ones chirping?” “0!” said the old man—“here they are;” opening his basket, and shewing a nest full of young canaries. “it was a fine evening,” said he, “and i and my old woman thought a walk would do us good, and we thought it would do the birds good too.”

the delights of angling seize upon another class. people that have not been inoculated with the true spirit, may wonder at the infatuation of anglers—but true anglers leave them very contentedly to their wondering, and follow their diversion with a keen delight. many old men there are of this class, that have in them a world of science,— not science of the book, or of regular tuition, but the science of actual experience. science that lives, and will die with them; except it be dropped out piecemeal, and with the gravity becoming its importance, to some young neophyte, who has won their good graces by his devotion to their beloved craft. all the mysteries of times and seasons, of baits, flies of every shape and hue; worms, gentles, beetles, compositions, or substances found by proof to possess singular charms. these are a possession which they hold with pride, and do not hold in vain. after a close day in the shop or factory, what a luxury is a fine summer evening to one of these men, following some rapid stream, or seated on a green bank, deep in grass and flowers, pulling out the spotted trout, or resolutely, but subtilely, bringing some huge pike or fair grayling from his lurking place beneath the broad stump and spreading boughs of the alder. or a day, a summer’s day, to such a man, by the dove, or the wye, amid the pleasant derbyshire hills; by yorkshire or northumbrian stream; by trent or tweed; or the banks of yarrow; by teith, or leven, with the glorious hills and heaths of scotland round him! why, such a day to such a man, has in it a life and spirit of enjoyment to which the feelings of cities and palaces are dim. the heart of such a man,—the power and passion of deep felicity that come breathing from mountains and[547] moorlands; from clouds that sail above, and storms blustering and growling in the wind; from all the mighty magnificence, the solitude and antiquity of nature upon him—ebenezer elliott only can unfold. the weight of the poor man’s life—the cares of poverty—the striving of huge cities, visit him as he sits by the beautiful stream—beautiful as a dream of eternity, and translucent as the everlasting canopy of heaven above him;—they come—but he casts them off for the time, with the power of one who feels himself strong in the kindred spirit of all things around; strong in knowledge that he is a man; an immortal—a child and pupil in the world-school of the almighty. for that day he is more than a king—he has the heart of humanity and the faith and spirit of a saint. it is not the rod and line that floats before him—it is not the flowing water, or the captured prey, that he perceives in those moments of admission to the heart of nature, so much as the law of the testimony of love and goodness written on every thing around him with the pencil of divine beauty. he is no longer the wearied and oppressed—the trodden and despised—walking in thread-bare garments, amid men who scarcely deign to look upon him as a brother man,—but he is reassured and recognised to himself in his own soul as one of those puzzling, aspiring and mysterious existences for whom all this splendid world was built, and for whom eternity opens its expecting gates. these are magnificent speculations for a poor angling weaver or carpenter; but ebenezer elliott can tell us, that they are his legitimate thoughts when he can break for an instant the bonds of this toiling age, and escape to the open fields. let us leave him dipping his line into the waters of refreshing thought, and return to the cottage garden. there we shall see another form of that beneficently varied taste which adds so much to the poor man’s pleasures.

we may look into many a cottage garden, and find it a little world of beauty and pleasant cares. here one poor man is a lover of bees. he has stored his little sheltered garden with all sorts of flowers that bees love, or that come out early in the year for them. on the sunny side of his little domain you see his rustic shed with its row of hives; all neatly thatched, and all sending out their busy stream of honey-gatherers. there is no man of any reflection but must feel what a source of enjoyment that row of hives has[548] been. what cares and contrivances have contributed to extend that row from the solitary swarm, purchased perhaps in the days of deeper poverty than now presses upon him. what summer-noon watchings there have been for the flight of new swarms; what hurry and ringing of pans and fire-shovels to charm them down; what recapturings and bringing back to the ancient bench to form a new family in the little bee-state.

there is one circumstance, however, connected with the keeping of bees, which spoils the poetry of it; and that is the brimstone pit of destruction that awaits them. but there is many a poor man that loves his bees with a strong affection, and loathes to do them that grievous wrong. he levies tribute, but does not destroy. i once saw a fine instance of this feeling. a poor man, a lover and keeper of bees, heard by chance that a swarm had taken up their abode in the roof of caverswall nunnery in staffordshire; and that the abbess was intending to have them destroyed. his residence was at a distance of seven miles from the abbey, but he instantly put his favourite volume of “huber on bees” in his pocket, and set out. here, being admitted to the presence of the abbess, he told his errand, and begged that she would not commit so barbarous and inhospitable an act,—that providence seemed to have directed those wonderful little creatures thither as it were, for the certainty of protection from the hearts of christian ladies. at least he begged that she would read that book before she put her threat into execution. he soon afterwards came to me with a face of great delight, saying—“the abbess has read huber, and she won’t destroy the bees!”

many cottagers, again, are most zealous and successful florists.[29] this is a taste full of beauty, and possessing a high charm. to select rich and suitable soils; to sow and plant; to nurse and shade, and water; to watch the growth and expansion of flowers of great promise;—it is sufficient for the enjoyment of one spirit.[549] the number of flowers now cultivated by florists is much increased to what it was. they had only the polyanthus, auricula, hyacinth, carnation, tulip, and ranunculus; but the splendid dahlia, and the pansy now engross much of their attention and admiration. others, again, are collectors and admirers of insects; and as education extends, natural history will, no doubt, receive many zealous adherents from the operative ranks. crabbe has described both these tastes as united in one man.

there is my friend, the weaver; strong desires

reign in his breast; ’tis beauty he admires.

see! to the shady grove he wings his way,

and feels in hope the raptures of the day.

eager he looks; and soon to his glad eyes,

from the sweet bower, by nature formed, arise

bright troops of virgin-moths, and new-born butterflies;

who broke that morning from their half-year’s sleep,

to fly o’er flowers where they were wont to creep.

above the sovereign oak, a sovereign skims,

the purple emperor, strong in wing and limbs:

there fair camilla takes her flight serene,

adonis blue, and paphia, silver queen:

with every filmy fly from mead or bower,

and hungry sphynx, who threads the honeyed flower;

she o’er the larkspurs’ bed, where sweets abound,

views every bell, and hums the approving sound:

poised on her busy plumes, with feelings nice,

she draws from every flower, nor tries a floret twice.

he fears no bailiff’s wrath, no baron’s blame,

his is untaxed, and undisputed game;

nor less the place of curious plants he knows;

he both his flora and his fauna shows.

for him is blooming in its rich array,

the glorious flower which bore the palm away.

in vain a rival tried his utmost art,

his was the prize, and joy o’erflowed his heart.

“this, this is beauty! cast, i pray, your eyes

on this my glory! see the grace—the size!

was ever stem so tall, so stout, so strong,

exact in breadth, in just proportion long;

these brilliant hues are all distinct and clean,

no kindred tint, no blending streaks between;

this is no shaded, run-off, pin-eyed thing,

a king of flowers, a flower for england’s king!”

[29] so successful that they were amongst the first to raise fine flowers before floral societies and flower-shows were in existence; and the names of some of these village florists are attached to some of the finest specimens, hufton, barker, and redgate, appellations which some of our finest carnations, polyanthuses, and ranunculuses bear, are those of old derbyshire villagers, well known to me, who scarcely ever were out of their own rustic districts, but whose names are thus made familiar all the country over.

[550]

lastly, the general pleasures of a garden form a grand item in the enjoyments of the poor man. to shew what these pleasures are, to what an extent they are enjoyed in some districts, even by town mechanics, and how much further they may be extended, i shall quote a portion of a paper published by me in november 1835, in tait’s magazine.

there are, in the outskirts of nottingham, upwards of 5000 gardens, the bulk of which are occupied by the working class. a good many there are belonging to the substantial tradesmen and wealthier inhabitants; but the great mass are those of the mechanics. these lie on various sides of the town, in expanses of many acres in a place, and many of them as much as a mile and a half distant from the centre of the town. in the winter they have rather a desolate aspect, with their naked trees and hedges, and all their little summer-houses exposed, damp-looking, and forlorn; but, in spring and summer, they look exceedingly well,—in spring all starred with blossoms, all thick with leaves; and their summer-houses peeping pleasantly from among them. the advantage of these gardens to the working-class of a great manufacturing town, is beyond calculation; and i believe no town in the kingdom has so many of them in proportion to its population. it were to be desired that the example of the nottingham artisans was imitated by those of other great towns; or rather that the taste for them was encouraged, and, in fact, created by the example of the middle classes, and by patriotic persons laying out fields for this purpose, and letting them at a reasonable rate. a wide difference in the capability of indulging in this healthful species of recreation, must of course, depend on the species of manufacture carried on. where steam-engines abound, and are at the foundation of all the labours of a place, as in manchester, for instance, there you will find few gardens in the possession of the mechanics. the steam-engine is a never-resting, unweariable, unpersuadable giant and despot; and will go on thumping and setting thousands of wheels and spindles in motion; and men must stand, as it were, the slaves of its unsleeping energies. o! what was the fate of the ancient genii to the fate of our modern mechanics! what was the fate of “the slaves of the lamp,” or the slaves of talismanic ring, to that of the slaves of the steam-engine! they could vanish and lie at rest till[551] came the irresistible call; they could sport over ocean and desert, through the air and the clouds; they could speed into the depths of space and wander amid the inconceivable mysteries and miracles of unknown worlds, till the omnipotent spell recalled them to execute some temporary wish of their tyrant, and then return to a wide liberty. but the slave of the steam-engine must be at the beck of his tyrant night or day, with only such intervals as barely suffice to restore his wearied strength and faculties:—therefore you shall not see gardens flourish and summer-houses rise in the vicinity of this hurrying and tremendous power. but where it is not, or but partially predominates, there may the mechanic enjoy the real pleasures of a garden. and how many are those pleasures!

early in spring—as soon, in fact, as the days begin to lengthen and the shrewd air to dry up the wintry moisture—you see them getting into their gardens, clearing away the dead stalks of last year’s growth, and digging up the soil; but especially on fine days in february and march are they busy. trees are pruned, beds are dug, walks cleaned, and all the refuse and decayed vegetation piled up in heaps; and the smoke of the fires in which it is burnt, rolling up from many a garden, and sending its pungent odour to meet you afar off. it is pleasant to see, as the season advances, how busy their occupants become; bustling there with their basses in their hands and their tools on their shoulders; wheeling in manure; and clearing out their summer-houses; and what an air of daily-increasing neatness they assume, till they are one wide expanse of blossomed fruit-trees and flowering fragrance. every garden has its summer-house; and these are of all scales and grades, from the erection of a few tub-staves, with an attempt to train a pumpkin or a wild-hop over it, to substantial brick houses with glass windows, good cellars for a deposit of choice wines, a kitchen, and all necessary apparatus, and a good pump to supply them with water. many are very picturesque rustic huts, built with great taste, and hidden by tall hedges in a perfect little paradise of lawn and shrubbery—most delightful spots to go and read in of a summer day, or to take a dinner or tea in with a pleasant party of friends. some of these places which belong to the substantial tradespeople have cost their occupiers from one to five hundred pounds, and the pleasure they take in them may be thence imagined; but[552] many of the mechanics have very excellent summer-houses, and there they delight to go, and smoke a solitary pipe, as they look over the smiling face of their garden, or take a quiet stroll amongst their flowers: or to take a pipe with a friend; or to spend a sunday afternoon, or a summer evening, with their families. the amount of enjoyment which these gardens afford to a great number of families is not easily to be calculated—and then the health and the improved taste! you meet them coming home, having been busy for hours in the freshness of the summer morning in them, and now are carrying home a bass brimful of vegetables for the house. in the evening thitherward you see groups and families going; the key which admits to the common paths that lead between them is produced; a door is opened and closed; and you feel that they are vanished into a pure and sacred retirement, such as the mechanic of a large town could not possess without these suburban gardens. and then to think of the alehouse, the drinking, noisy, politics-bawling alehouse, where a great many of these very men would most probably be, if they had not this attraction,—to think of this, and then to see the variety of sources of a beautiful and healthful interest which they create for themselves here:—what a contrast!—what a most gratifying contrast! there are the worthy couple, sitting in the open summer-house of one garden, quietly enjoying themselves, and watching their children romping on the grass-plot, or playing about the walks; in another, a social group of friends round the tea-table, or enjoying the reward of all their spring labours, picking strawberries fresh from the bed, or raspberries, gooseberries, and currants from the bush. in one you find a grower of fine apples, pears, or plums, or of large gooseberries; in another, a florist, with his show of tulips, ranunculuses, hyacinths, carnations, or other choice flowers, that claim all his leisure moments, and are a source of a thousand cares and interests. and of these cares and interests, the neat awning of white canvass, raised on its light frame of wood; the glasses, and screens of board and matting, to defend those precious objects from every rude attack of sun, wind, or rain—all these are sufficient testimonies; and tell of hours early and late, in the dawn of morning and the dusk of evening, when the happy man has been entranced in his zealous labours, and absorbed in a thousand delicious fancies,[553] and speculations of perfection. of late, the splendid dahlia and the pansy have become objects of attention; and i believe of the latter flower, till recently despised and overlooked, except in the old english cottage-garden, there are now more than a hundred varieties, of such brilliance and richness of hue, and many of them of such superb expanse of corolla, as merit all the value set upon them.

this is the allotment system of the manufacturing town; to the full as desirable as that for the country, and which may be facilitated, fraught as it is with abundant physical and moral good, by philanthropic individuals to a great extent. at nottingham, as i have observed, the taste seems to have grown up originally of itself, and then, exciting the attention of speculators, has been extended to its present growth by them. the mechanics there have not their gardens at a cheap rate. they all say that they could purchase their vegetables in the market for the amount of their rent and incidental expenses; but then, they get the health and the enjoyment, and their fruit and vegetables they get so fresh.

there are, according to a personal examination made by myself, now, upwards of 5000 of these gardens, containing, as single gardens, 400 square yards each,—the general scale of a garden; though a good many are held as double, and even treble gardens. these let at from a halfpenny to three halfpence per yard; but averaged at three farthings, make a rental of 1l. 5s. per garden, or a total of 6250l. five thousand gardens of 400 yards each of clear garden ground, independent of fences and roads, give 413 acres and about a rood. now, if we add one-fifth for fences and roads, the total quantity of land occupied is 496 acres, or we may say, in round numbers, 500 acres. here then, 500 acres, which at fifty shillings an acre—a good rent for ordinary purposes, would yield a rent of 1250l.; yield, by being converted into gardens, a rent of 6250l., or a clear profit of 5000l.

thus, it is evident, that any persons willing to promote the taste for gardening in the neighbourhood of towns, might double, in many instances, the ordinary rent of the land, and yet let it in gardens at half the price of these nottingham ones. even where land in the vicinity of a large town is very highly rented, a halfpenny a yard, and ten gardens to the acre, fences and roads included,[554] would produce 8l. 6s. 8d. per acre; no contemptible sum; to say nothing of the real kindness of the accommodation, and the health, pleasure, and pure taste communicated to their fellow men; whilst, against the increased risk of loss, and the increased trouble of the collection of rent, are to be set the value of the garden stock, fruit trees, shrubs, and flower roots, and the summer-houses, which enhance the value to the next tenant.

here i close this chapter, and this department of my work,—the habits and amusements of the people. it is a subject to which i attach no common importance. the people make the majority of our race; and if they are all equally the objects of that divine care which created them, they must be equally the objects of our truest sympathies. this has not hitherto been sufficiently considered: but every day that consideration must be forced more and more upon us; and we shall be made to feel that no philosophy is good which does not include the poor in its theory; no religion is sound which does not recognise their kinship; no legislation is wise which does not operate for their physical and intellectual benefit; and no country can be said to be truly prosperous, where the multitude is not respectable, enlightened, moral, and happy.

let us all endeavour to hasten this period, as a living proof that christianity is really preached to the poor; and that our knowledge has produced the most felicitous of its genuine fruits, in peopling this great nation with a race such as no nation has yet possessed; such as may eat,

well earned, the bread of service, yet may have

a mounting spirit;—one that entertains

scorn of base action, deed dishonourable,

or aught unseemly.

charles lamb.