allotted it this tether. He meaned, of course, that the funding-system would not last, such as it then was; that is to say, with dividends payable in specie. It never entered into the mind of man, that England was going to expose herself to the tremendous effects of a paper-money not convertible into specie; and, therefore, his prediction, even in point of time, has been amply fulfilled. A reduction of the interest of the debt would still leave something under the name of a funding-system; but will any one pretend to say, that the system that existed before 1796 would not then be at an end! A dead horse is still a horse, but is it the same horse, the same thing, that it was when it was alive? It is clear that the whole thing is changed since the date of Mr. Paine's predictions; and that those predictions were wonderfully and almost miraculously

correct.

Old age having laid his hand upon this truly great man, this truly philosophical politician, at his expiring flambeau I lighted my taper; and from the year 1803 to the present hour I have been warning the Parliament and the Government against the consequences of this fatal system, which has at last produced in this once happy country, misery such as never was witnessed before in the world, and for which misery the Ministers themselves declare that they have no hopes of discovering either cure or mitigation. I could go back and draw from the Register, beginning with the year 1803, a series of warnings; in which series there is scarcely a lapse of five months at any one time; and, from this review, from this retrospect it would appear clear as day-light that if the Parliament and the Ministers had listened to my suggestions, the country would, at this moment, have been in a situation to be the envy of the whole world, instead of its being in such a state as to make men flee from it as vermin escape from a house on fire.

I do not, my Lord, attribute to any of you a design to produce the present state of things. There are persons who, listening to their anger instead of their reason, say that the Government is glad to have a pretext for adopting measures such as are now about to be adopted. And this is an imputation very familiar with that son of faction, Perry of the Morning Chronicle. No man that reflects can believe this; it is against nature. The wickedest tyrant that ever existed cannot be pleased at being compelled to do odious things, that is to say, things odious in themselves, in order to preserve his power. Every ruler, and every one who has any share in the ruling of a country, must wish that the state of that country should be happy; and he must also wish, especially in a country like England, that the period of his sway should not be marked by popular discontent or by any thing tending to hold the nation forth as abridged in all its liberties. Therefore, on the score of design, I do now acquit, as I always have most decidedly acquitted the Parliament and the Government. But then it follows of necessity that things have turned out contrary to the wishes and expectation of the Parliament and the Government; or, in other words, according to my expectation and my predictions.

With the knowledge of this in the minds of the people at large (for great indeed is the error of supposing that the millions of Reformers are misled, deluded, ignorant creatures) with the knowledge of this in the minds of ninety-nine hundredths of the nation, what must that nation think of the insinuations, the continual insinuations, thrown out against me, and the indefatigable endeavours by all sorts of means, high and low, to prevent the people from reading what I write? Though I cannot but

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feel strongly on my own account in this case, I feel much more strongly on account of my country. I am ashamed, I blush to the very bone, when I contemplate the schemes, the devices, the tricks, the innumerable round. about artifices, put in play in order to withhold from the eyes of Englishmen the productions of that pen, which, if its former productions had been attended to, would have completely prevented all the evils of which we now deplore the existence. I can assure your Lordship that the poor deluded creatures," as they are affectedly called, want nothing but the bare reading or hearing an account of these artifices. They well know the object of them: they see in the twinkling of an eye the whole of their drift the object is thus defeated before the scheme is in operation: and, not all that any power on earth can do will change the opinions of this faithful and enlightened people with regard to the matters upon which I have, during the last three years, had the very great honour of addressing them.

How much more manly, how much more wise would it be to suffer my writings to go forth freely to the people! The impression could not thereby be made greater than that which is made under a system of restraint and persecution; and, indeed, it could not be so great; for persecution always excites an interest in behalf of the object of such persecution. This has been the case in an uncommon degree with regard to him who has now the honour to address your Lordship. I have been, I thank God, always very ardently beloved by the far greater part of those who personally knew me. Before my departure from England for America, I had a great deal of fair popularity; unsought-for popularity; and my writings had brought me a great portion of disinterested praise and admiration. But upon my return I can perceive no bounds to these things, so generally held in high estimation. I perceive every where the most anxious desire in persons of all sorts, to show respect towards me; and if I have always loved my country with more ardour than ever I have witnessed in any other man, excepting, indeed, the brave and generous Reformers of the North, I have now reason to love it more than ever.

I make not these observations for the gratification of any selfish feeling: I make them in order to show how powerful is the impression upon the public mind that I have all along been right, as to the measures which ought to have been adopted. There is a conviction generally prevailing amongst the people of this kingdom at large, that the course of policy, long ago recommended by me, would have saved the country from its present unparalleled calamities. I may say that the whole of the nation whose minds are free from undue bias are of this opinion. What measures, then, can be adopted, to remove that opinion? Measures of coercion ? Measures of restraint? Measures for silencing? Oh! no! By reasoning; by true statement of facts; by these, favoured with the gift of capacity to make myself clearly understood, when speaking of things in their nature intricate by these means the popular opinion has been produced, and that opinion is to be removed by no means other than such as those which I have made use of. If I were never to write another line, it would be beyond the power of all the writers in England to remove any part of the impression which I have produced. I found the minds of my readers sheets of clean paper, unsmeared by the precepts of selfishness. Upon those fair minds I have imprinted the thoughts of my own mind; and, it is as impossible for my readers to unknow that which I have caused them to know, as it is for me to have a mind other than that which I have.

Monstrous, therefore, is the error to suppose that the people are to be induced to change their opinions upon the great subjects of paper-money, taxation, right of representation, right to relief in case of indigence. Monstrous is this error; and the only wise, the only rational course is that of conciliation and change of system.

I now conclude, my Lord, with assuring you, with the utmost sincerity, that all the insinuations thrown out against me, though by persons who ought to be ashamed of such insinuations; that all the persecutions I have endured and without my meriting any part of them; that all the insults which have been levelled at me, from whatever quarter proceeding; that all these, and that every feeling of a personal nature are banished from my bosom when I now come back to my native land, and when I contemplate the present dreadful calamities and the still more dreadful which appear to be impending; and that if I still persevere in my accustomed labours, my object will be entirely that of preventing my country from being involved in confusion and irretrievable ruin and disgrace.

I am, my Lord,

Your Lordship's most obedient
And most humble servant,

Wм. COBBETT.

TO THE INDUSTRIOUS CLASSES,

ON THE CAUSES OF THE PRESENT POVERTY AND MISERY.

(Political Register, February, 1820.)

London, 9th February, 1820.

BELOVED COUNTRY MEN AND COUNTRYWOMEN,

The picture, which our country exhibits, at this moment, while it sinks our own hearts within us, fills the whole civilized world with wonder and amazement. This country has been famed, in all ages, not only for its freedom and for the security its laws gave to person and property; but for the happiness of its people; for the comfort they enjoyed; for the neatness and goodness of their dress; the good quality and the abundance of their household furniture, bedding and utensils; and for the excellence and plenty of their food. So that a LORD CHANCELLOR, who, four hundred years ago, wrote a book on our laws, observes in that book, that, owing to these good laws and the security and freedom they gave, the English people possessed, in abundance," all things that conduce to make life easy and happy."

This was the state of our great grandfathers and great grandmothers, who little thought of what was to befall their descendants! The very name of England was pronounced throughout the world with respect. That very name was thought to mean high-spirit, impartial justice, freedom and happiness. What does it mean now? It means that which I have not the power to describe, nor the heart to describe, if I had the

power. England now contains the most miserable people that ever trod the earth. It is the seat of greater human suffering; of more pain of body and of mind, than was ever before heard of in the world. In countries, which have been deemed the most wretched, there never has existed wretchedness equal to that, which is now exhibited in this once flourishing, free and happy country.

In this country the law provides, that no human being shall suffer from want of food, lodging, or raiment. Our forefathers, when they gave security to property; when they made laws to give to the rich the safe enjoyment of their wealth, did not forget, that there must always be some poor, and that God wished, that the poor should not perish for want, they being entitled to an existence as well as the rich. Therefore, the law said, and it still says, that to make a sure and certain provision for the poor, is required by the first principles of civil society. He who is rich to-day may be poor to-morrow; and he is not to starve because he is become unfortunate.

Upon this principle of common humanity and of natural justice the Poor-laws were founded; and those laws give to every one a right, a legal as well as an equitable right, to be maintained out of the real property of the country, if, from whatever cause, unable to obtain a maintenance through his or her own exertions. To receive parishrelief is no favour! it is no gift that the relieved person receives; it is what the law insures him; and what he cannot be refused without a breach of the law, and without an outrageous act of injustice and oppression.

Such being the law; that is, the law having taken care, that relief shall always be at hand for the destitute, the law has forbidden begging. `It has pointed out to every destitute person the place where he can obtain legal and effectual relief, and, therefore, it has said: " You shall not beg. If you beg you shall be punished." And, as we well know, punishment is frequently inflicted for begging.

But, what do we see before our eyes at this moment? We see, all over the kingdom, misery existing to such an extent, that the Poor-laws are found insufficient, and that a system of general beggary is introduced, under the name of subscriptions, voluntary contributions, soupshops, and the like, and, in the Metropolis, where our eyes are dazzled with the splendour of those who live on the taxes, we see that a society has been formed for raising money to provide a receptacle for the houseless poor during the night; that is to say, to give a few hours shelter to wretched beings, who must otherwise lie down and die in the very streets! To-day we read of a poor man expiring on his removal from one country-parish to another. To-morrow we read of a poor woman, driven back from the door of one poor-house in London, carried back to expire in another poor-house before the morning. The next day we read of a man found dead in the street, and nearly a skeleton. While we daily see men harnessed and drawing carts loaded with grave! to repair the highways!

:

Is this England! Can this be England! and can these wretched and miserable and degraded objects be Englishmen! Yes this is England; with grief, shame, and indignation we must confess it; but, still we must confess that such is now once free and happy England! That same country that was until of late years famed throughout the world for all that was great, good, and amiable and enviable.

This change never can have taken place without a cause.

There must

have been something, and something done by man, too, to produce this change, this disgraceful, this distressing, this horrible change. God has not afflicted the country with pestilence or with famine; nor has the land been invaded and ravaged by an enemy. Providence has, of late, been more than ordinarily benevolent to us. Three successive harvests of uncommon abundance have blessed, or would have blessed, these islands. Peace has been undisturbed. War appears not to have been even thought possible. The sounds of warlike glory have, even yet, hardly ceased to vibrate on our ears. And yet, in the midst of profound peace and abundant harvests, the nation seems to be convulsed with the last struggles of gnawing hunger.

It is man, therefore, and not a benevolent Creator, who has been the cause of our sufferings, present and past, and of the more horrid sufferings, which we now but reasonably anticipate. To man, therefore, must we look for an account for these evils, into the cause of which let us, without any want of charity, but, at the same time, without fear and without self-deception, freely inquire.

My good, honest, kind and industrious country-people, you have long been deceived by artful and intriguing and interested men, who have a press at their command, and who, out of taxes raised from your labour, have persuaded you, that your sufferings arise from nothing that man can cause or can cure. But, have only a little patience with me, and I think that I am able to convince you, that your sufferings and your degradation have arisen from the weight of taxes imposed on you, and from no other cause whatever.

When you consider, that your salt, pepper, soap, candles, sugar, tea, beer, shoes, and all other things are taxed, you must see, that you pay taxes yourselves; and, when you consider, that the taxes paid by your richer neighbours disable them from paying you so much in wages as they would otherwise pay you, you must perceive, that taxes are disadvantageous to you. In short, it is a fact, that no man can deny, that the poverty and misery of the people have gone on increasing precisely in the same degree that the taxes have gone on increasing.

The tax on salt is fifteen shillings a bushel. Its cost at the sea-side, where a kind Providence throws it abundantly on our shores, is one shilling. Owing to the delays and embarrassments arising from the tax, the price comes, at last, to twenty shillings! Thus, a bushel of salt, which is about as much as a middling family uses in a year (in all sorts of ways), costs to that family eighteen shillings, at least, in tax! Now, if an industrious man's family had the 18s. in pocket, instead of paying them in tax, would not that family be the better for the change? If, instead of paying 6d. for a pot of beer (if beer a man must have) he had to pay 2d., would not he be 4d. the richer? And if the taxes were light instead of heavy, would not your wages and profits enable you to live better and dress better than you now do?

They who have good health, good luck and small families, make a shift to go along with this load of taxes. Others bend under it. Others come down to poverty. And a great part of these are pressed to the very earth, some ending their days in poor-houses, and others perishing from actual want. The farmers are daily falling into ruin; the little farmers fall first; the big ones become little, and the little ones become paupers, unless they escape from the country, while they have money enough to