Travels in England in 1782 by Karl Philipp Moritz (read any book txt) 📖

Harborough to Leicester I had a most dreadful journey, it rained incessantly; and as before we had been covered with dust, we now were soaked with rain. My neighbour, the young man who sat next me in the middle, that my inconveniences might be complete, every now and then fell asleep; and as, when asleep, he perpetually bolted and rolled against me, with the whole weight of his body, more than once he was very near pushing me entirely off my seat.

We at last reached Northampton, where I immediately went to bed, and have slept almost till noon. To-morrow morning I intend to continue my journey to London in some other stage-coach.

 

CHAPTER XIII.

 

London, 15th July, 1782.

The journey from Northampton to London I can again hardly call a journey, but rather a perpetual motion, or removal from one place to another, in a close box; during your conveyance you may, perhaps, if you are in luck, converse with two or three people shut up along with you.

But I was not so fortunate, for my three travelling companions were all farmers, who slept so soundly that even the hearty knocks of the head with which they often saluted each other, did not awake them.

Their faces, bloated and discoloured by their copious use of ale and brandy, looked, as they lay before me, like so many lumps of dead flesh. When now and then they woke, sheep, in which they all dealt, was the first and last topic of their conversation. One of the three, however, differed not a little from the other two; his face was sallow and thin, his eyes quite sunk and hollow, his long, lank fingers hung quite loose, and as if detached from his hands. He was, in short, the picture of avarice and misanthropy. The former he certainly was; for at every stage he refused to give the coachman the accustomed perquisite, which every body else paid; and every farthing he was forced to part with, forced a “G-d d—n” from his heart. As he sat in the coach, he seemed anxious to shun the light; and so shut up every window that he could come at, except when now and then I opened them to take a slight view of the charms of the country through which we seemed to be flying, rather than driving.

Our road lay through Newport Pagnell, Dunstable, St. Albans, Barnet, to Islington, or rather to London itself. But these names are all I know of the different places.

At Dunstable, if I do not mistake, we breakfasted; and here, as is usual, everything was paid for in common by all the passengers; as I did not know this, I ordered coffee separately; however, when it came, the three farmers also drank of it, and gave me some of their tea.

They asked me what part of the world I came from; whereas we in Germany generally inquired what countryman a person is.

When we had breakfasted, and were again seated in the coach, all the farmers, the lean one excepted, seemed quite alive again, and now began a conversation on religion and on politics.

One of them brought the history of Samson on the carpet, which the clergyman of his parish, he said, had lately explained, I dare say very satisfactorily; though this honest farmer still had a great many doubts about the great gate which Samson carried away, and about the foxes with the firebrands between their tails. In other respects, however, the man seemed not to be either uninformed or sceptical.

They now proceeded to relate to each other various stories, chiefly out of the Bible; not merely as important facts, but as interesting narratives, which they would have told and listened to with equal satisfaction had they met them anywhere else. One of them had only heard these stories from his minister in the church, not being able to read them himself.

The one that sat next to him now began to talk about the Jews of the Old Testament, and assured us that the present race were all descended from those old ones. “Ay, and they are all damned to all eternity!” said his companion, as coolly and as confidently as if at that moment he had seen them burning in the bottomless pit.

We now frequently took up fresh passengers, who only rode a short distance with us, and then got out again. Among others was a woman from London, whose business was the making of brandy. She entertained us with a very circumstantial narrative of all the shocking scenes during the late riot in that city. What particularly struck me was her saying that she saw a man, opposite to her house, who was so furious, that he stood on the wall of a house that was already half burnt down, and there, like a demon, with his own hands pulled down and tossed about the bricks which the fire had spared, till at length he was shot, and fell back among the flames.

At length we arrived at London without any accident, in a hard rain, about one o’clock. I had been obliged to pay sixteen shillings beforehand at Northampton, for the sixty miles to London. This the coachman seemed not to know for certain, and therefore asked me more earnestly if I was sure I had paid: I assured him I had, and he took my word.

I looked like a crazy creature when I arrived in London; notwithstanding which, Mr. Pointer, with whom I left my trunk, received me in the most friendly manner, and desired me during dinner to relate to him my adventures.

The same evening I called on Mr. Leonhardi, who, as I did not wish to hire a lodging for the few days I might be obliged to wait for a fair wind, got me into the Freemasons’ Tavern. And here I have been waiting these eight days, and the wind still continues contrary for Hambro’; though I do now most heartily wish for a fair wind, as I can no longer make any improvement by my stay, since I must keep myself in constant readiness to embark whenever the wind changes; and therefore I dare go no great distance.

Everybody here is now full of the Marquis of Rockingham’s death, and the change of the ministry in consequence of it. They are much displeased that Fox has given up his seat; and yet it is singular, they still are much concerned, and interest themselves for him, as if whatever interested him were the interest of the nation. On Tuesday there was a highly important debate in Parliament. Fox was called on to assign the true reasons of his resignation before the nation. At eleven o’clock the gallery was so full that nobody could get a place, and the debates only began at three, and lasted this evening till ten.

About four Fox came. Every one was full of expectation. He spoke at first with great vehemence, but it was observed that he gradually became more and more moderate, and when at length he had vindicated the step he had taken, and showed it to be, in every point of view, just, wise, and honourable, he added, with great force and pathos, “and now I stand here once more as poor as ever I was.” It was impossible to hear such a speech and such declarations unmoved.

General Conway then gave his reasons why he did not resign, though he was of the same political principles as Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke; he was of the same opinion with them in regard to the independency of America; the more equal representation of the people in Parliament, and the regulations necessary in Ireland; but he did not think the present minister, Lord Shelburne, would act contrary to those principles. As soon as he did, he should likewise resign, but not before.

Burke now stood up and made a most elegant though florid speech, in praise of the late Marquis of Rockingham. As he did not meet with sufficient attention, and heard much talking and many murmurs, he said, with much vehemence and a sense of injured merit, “This is not treatment for so old a member of Parliament as I am, and I will be heard!”—on which there was immediately a most profound silence. After he had said much more in praise of Rockingham, he subjoined, that with regard to General Conway’s remaining in the ministry, it reminded him of a fable he had heard in his youth, of a wolf, who, on having clothed himself as a sheep, was let into the fold by a lamb, who indeed did say to him, “Where did you get those long nails, and those sharp teeth, mamma?” But nevertheless let him in; the consequence of which was he murdered the whole flock. Now with respect to General Conway, it appeared to him, just as though the lamb certainly did perceive the nails and teeth of the wolf, but notwithstanding, was so good-tempered to believe that the wolf would change his nature, and become a lamb. By this, he did not mean to reflect on Lord Shelburne: only of this he was certain, that the present administration was a thousand times worse than that under Lord North (who was present).

When I heard Mr. Pitt speak for the first time, I was astonished that a man of so youthful an appearance should stand up at all; but I was still more astonished to see how, while he spoke, he engaged universal attention. He seems to me not to be more than one-and- twenty. This same Pitt is now minister, and even Chancellor of the Exchequer.

It is shocking to a foreigner, to see what violent satires on men, rather than on things, daily appear in the newspapers, of which they tell me there are at least a dozen, if not more, published every day. Some of them side with the Ministry, and still more I think with the Opposition. A paper that should be quite impartial, if that were possible, I apprehend would be deemed so insipid as to find no readers. No longer ago than yesterday, it was mentioned in one of these newspapers, that when Fox, who is fallen, saw so young a man as Pitt made the minister, he exclaimed with Satan, who, in “Paradise Lost,” on perceiving the man approved by God, called out, “O hateful sight!”

On Thursday the king went with the usual solemnity to prorogue the Parliament for a stated time. But I pass this over as a matter that has already been so often described.

I have also, during this period, become acquainted with Baron Grothaus, the famous walker, to whom I had also a letter of recommendation from Baron Groote of Hambro’. He lives in Chesterfield House, not far from General Paoli, to whom he has promised to introduce me, if I have time to call on him again.

I have suffered much this week from the violent cough I brought with me from the hole in Derbyshire, so that I could not for some days stir; during which time Messrs. Schonborn and Leonhardi have visited me very attentively, and contributed much to my amendment.

I have been obliged to relate as much about my journey out of London here as I probably shall in Germany of all England in general. To most people to whom I give an account of my journey, what I have seen is quite new. I must, however, here insert a few remarks on the elocution, or manner of speaking, of this country, which I had forgot before to write to you.

English eloquence appears to me not to be nearly so capable of so much variety and diffusion as ours is. Add to this, in their Parliamentary speeches, in sermons in the pulpit, in the dialogues on the stage;