I L L INOI S
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

PRODUCTION NOTE
University of Illinois at
Urbana-Champaign Library
Brittle Books Project, 2010.

COPYRIGHT NOTIFICATION

In Public Domain.
Published prior to 1923.

This digital copy was made from the printed version held
by the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
It was made in compliance with copyright law.
Prepared for the Brittle Books Project, Main Library,
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
by
Northern Micrographics
Brookhaven Bindery
La Crosse, Wisconsin
2010

/i

THE UNIVERSITY
1

OF ILLINOIS
LIBRARY

i

B

THE LIFE OF

WVILLIAMI

HUTTON.

LI~h, .Y
OF IHE

UNIVERSITY

OF

ILLINOIS

LIBRARY
OF

THE

UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

yL

CHANDOS LIBRAR

Y.

THE LIFE OF

WILLIAM

HUTTON,
HISTORY

AND THE

OF

HUTTON

THE

FAMILY,

EDITED FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPTS,
WITH THE ADDITION
MATTER,

OF

ILLUSTRATIVE

rNUMEROUS

EXAMPLES OF HUTTON'S POETICAL

NOTES,

ORIGINAL

PRODUCTIONS,

AND NOTICES OF ALL HIS WORKS,
ETC. ETC.

BY LLEWELLYNN

JEWITT, F.S.A.

AUTHOR OF
THE "LIFE OF JOSIAH WEDGWOOD,"

" GRAVE MOUNDS AND THEIR CONTENTS,

ETC.

ETC.

ORIGINAL

WITH

PORTRAIT.

LONDON:
FREDERICK
BEDFORD
NEW YORK:

WARNE

STREET,

COVENT

AND

CO.

GARDEN.

SCRIBNER, WELFORD AND

ARMSTRONG.

'

L03DON:
SAVILL) EDWi\R1J

AND) CO., PRINTERS) CHANDOS STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.

.

TO

WILLIAM HUTTON, ESQ.,
OF WARD END HALL,

THE PRESENT REPRESENTATIVE
v

OF THE

FAMILY

'TO WHICH

WILLIAM

HUTTON THE HISTORIAN
BELONGED ;

AND THE INHERITOR,

NOT ONLY OF HIS ESTATES

BUT OF HIS GOOD AND AMIABLE QUALITIES;

BY HIS FRIENI)

LLEWELLYNN JEWITT.

---

9 39

PREFACE.

WILLIAM

HUTTON was one of He never issued a
most clever of preface writers. the most original and
book without one; he scarcely ever wrote even a short poem
without a few lines of prologue, and even his historical or other
chapters were frequently introduced, or interlarded, with some
curious expression of opinion or other. These were always
worth reading, whether his books or poems were or not. The
prefaces to his fourteen published volumes are, both as a whole
and separately, eminently characteristic of the man, and of his
clear-headedness and peculiar turn of thought, and are well
worthy of perusal. With such an example in Hutton himself, it
would be bad taste in me to issue this new edition of one of
his best books without a word of preface, if only to say why I
issue it, and what I have done to render it acceptable to its
readers. This, in a few words, I now proceed to tell.
The Autobiography of William Hutton, with a History of
the Hutton Family, as written by his own hand, was not published until after his death, when it was edited by his daughter,
Catherine Hutton, the accomplished novelist. This was in
1816. In 1817 Miss Hutton issued a second edition, with some
additions. This was published by Beilby and Knotts, of Birmingham, and Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, of London. In
1841 a new edition was issued as one of " Knight's English
Miscellanies," to which some few fresh notes were 'added by
the same lady. From that time to the present, of this charming and remarkable, as well as curious and instructive, auto-

viii

Prjac .

biography, no other edition has been issued, and it may pretty
confidently be said that to a large number of readers it remains
totally unknown. It appeared to me, therefore, that the
present was an opportune -time for the re-issue of the work,
and that the " Chandos Library" of Messrs. F. Warne and Co.
was one of the best mediums for insuring to it two advantages-a large number of readers, and a moderate price.
Hutton has been called the " English Franklin," but, although
both from his "philosophyism " and from the energy and prudence of his character, he eminently deserves that name, I should,
from the quaintness of his manner, and from the minutely
circumstantial character of many of his narrative remarks, ahnost
prefer classing him with our own " dear Pepys." Half Franklin,
half Pepys, but at the same time wholly Hutton, he has given
in his autobiography so much good sound advice, so much
and such a vast amount of encouragement to perseverance amid no ordinary trials of life, that the work, sure to
be read, cannot be perused without benefit to the reader.
My present edition is issued under peculiarly favourable
circumstances, and I am fortunate enough to add to it much
important matter, and several new and interesting features.
Through the kindness and courtesy of the present and most
worthy representative of the family, my friend William Hutton,
Esq., the inheritor of the wealth and of no little of the amiable
and sterling character of the family, and grand-nephew and
namesake of the historian, the original "large folio manuscript in my own handwriting, now in my son's library" (as
Hutton describes the MS.), has been placed in my hands,
along with a number of other books and papers. To these
I am indebted for much of the additional information contained in the following pages. The editions hitherto printed, I
find on comparison, vary very considerably in many particulars
from the MS. itself. In several instaices the somewhat original
and quaint mode of expressing his thoughts which is so cha-

,wisdom,

Preface.

ix

racteristic of William Hutton's style of writing, has been altered
and rounded, and thus has lost its sharpness. And then again,
much matter occurs in the MS. which does not appear at all
in the hitherto printed editions.
I have carefully collated the whole, word by word; have
restored it to its original state; and have added all the matter
which has not before appeared.
The edifice erected at so much pains and trouble by William
Hutton, had, it will have been seen, like many a fine building
of stone, been altered by different hands in the vain hope of
improvement. My work has been that of the restorer, and I
have confidence in saying that I have now brought it back to
its pristine beauty and excellence, and present it to the world
in the state in which Hutton intended it to appear-as he himself would have wished to see it.
But not only this. I have added throughout, almost page by
page, a number of notes illustrative of the text, which cannot
fail to render the work far more useful and acceptable to the
reader. In the genealogical part I have added a vast amount
of new information from various sources.
To the whole I have appended a resume of the contents and
aim of the whole of Hutton's published works; from which
also I have given copious extracts.
The present edition may, therefore, with truth be said to be
an entirely new work, and one which will, more fully than has
yet been attempted, show in its true light the character of
William Hutton, and exhibit his wonderful career, as an incentive to industry, exertion, self-reliance, and strict integrity on
the part of all its readers.
It remains for me to add, that the original manuscript, in
William Hutton's own handwriting, is a folio volume, sumptuously bound, and is written throughout in that clear, small,
and somewhat cramped hand which characterizes his penmanship. It was written throughout, as he has stated, with a

Preface.

x-

single pen, which is still preserved by his descendant, and is
illustrated with a series of exquisite original water-colour drawings of portraits from the life, of William Hutton, his wife, his
son and daughter, his brothers; and his great-nephew and heir,
and the arms of the family, all " by that ingenious artist, Moses
Haughtoi." The frontispiece to this manuscript volume is a
full-length and most admirable portrait of William Hutton with
his favourite dog beside him, and through the open window is
seen his charming "Home" at Bennet's Hill, near Birmingham. This portrait I am enabled, through the kindness of its
present owner, to engrave for the first time, as a frontispiece to
the present volume.
Winster Hall, Derbyshire, August, I872.

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION.

As

the History of the Family of WILLIAM HUTTON could

only be interesting so far as it related to himself, and
as being related by himself, it was judged expedient on the
first publication of this work, that it should give place to the
History of his own Life. But as the subject of the Family is
first with regard to time, -and as it was first written by the
Author, the Editor has ventured to place it as an Introduction,
rather than as an Appendix to the Life.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

THE

HISTORY

OF THE

GENERATIONS,
THE FAMILY

HUTTON

FROM

OF MRS.

1570

FAMILY

TO

1798.

HUTTON ...

ADDITIONAL NOTES ON

OBITUARY

.

...

.

.

HUTTON.

.

348

.

..

.

.

.

350

.

.

.

.

.

360

.

. .

.

.

.

361

.

.

THE HISTORY OF DERBY

ELFRIDA

.

FIELD
.

.

.

.

. . . . 363
.
. . . . 366
. . . . 378
.

......
.

. 336

.. .
.

.

OF BLACKPOOL

333
OF

.

THE HUNDRED COURT

OF BOSWORTH

215

.

THE COURT OF REQUESTS

THE BATTLE

.

......

.
.

DESCRIPTION

59

14,

AND WRITINGS

.

.

.

100

.

THE JOURNEY TO LONDON .

..

. .

............

WILLIAM HUTTON:-THE HISTORY OF
BIRMINGHAM

EDGAR AND

5I

.....

PUBLISHED WORKS

THE BARBERS.

5

BIRMINGHAM, JULY

.

NOTICE OF WILLIAM

NOTICES OF THE

.......

THE FAMILY OF HUTTON

A NARRATIVE OF THE RIOTS IN

.

SEVEN

.........

THE LIFE OF WILLIAM HUTTON

1791..

DURING

.

.

. . . . 389
.

GOn1en ls.

_Xii
NOTICES OF

THE PUBLISHED WORKS AND WRITINGS OF

WILLIAM HUTTON-con/ied :PAGE

THE

ROMAN WALL.....................389

REMARKS UPON NORTH WALES...........406
TOUR TO SCARBOROUGH ...............
POEMS........................421

TRIP TO COATHAM..................442

.INDEX...........................449

418

THE

HISTORY
OF THE

F AM I L Y

H U T TON
DJURING

1570 TO 17928,

SEVEN GENERATIONS FROM\

PT

WILLIAM HUTTON, F.A.S.S.

WITH A PARTICULAR ACCOUN'T
IL LUJSTRATED

WVITHI BT
PORTRAITS

OF

THIATI

IE

CELEBRATED) ART IS'T,

MOSES HAUGITTON.
1799"

AU'TUIOR,

PREFACE.

HE

who writes the History of his Family brings himself
into a premunire. He must either be unfaithful, or
divulge the errors of his dearest friends. As all have defects,
he must accuse them, by laying those defects open; or /imsel,
by concealing them. True judgment will steer clear of both.
The memoirs of a private family bear but little weight in the
scale of history. Few anecdotes offer. An author ought to be
blessed with a double portion of genius to be entertaining. He
may be said to write upon nothing: like the Israelites, to make
bricks without straw. And when his work is finished, like that
of the brick-maker, it may be burnt. Like a man in a mist, he
sees but few objects, and the reader wanders over a dry desert
without relief.
Such a work is seldom read odut of the family; nay, I am inclined to think it is seldom read in. Hid, like the mole, from
the light, it sleeps in silence. It may often be found taking a
long and silent sleep in the strong box, with the title-deeds of
the family.
The principal transactions of the heroes of the Hutton race,
may be comprised in a tombstone history. They were bornthey lived-and they died.
But though the characters are placed in still life, some of
them are very uncommon.

THE

HISTORY,
ETC.

W

HEN a man has written a book and lost it, I know
nothing more difficult than to write it again. Dr.
Priestley assured me he never could. The powers having passed
by are almost as hard to be recalled as the past hour.
In 1779 I wrote the History of the Family of Hutton, which
slept very quietly upon my shelf for twelve years. But in 1791,
when the rioters chose to amuse themselves with the destruction
of every kind of property, land excepted, which I had spent
threescore years in accumulating, the History of my Family
fell in the general ruin. This dreadful calamity taught me many
useful lessons : this among others-" That no man can conceive
the pleasures of destruction but he who destroys." I was more
afflicted with the loss of the History than it merited ; and, for
seven years, endeavoured to prevail upon myself to begin
another, but was never able to succeed, though solicited by
friends.
Sometimes the most important incidents in a man's life spring
out of trifles. " Do you court Miss Simpson ?" said Mrs.
Adams to her friend. "Not I; I shall never have anything to
say to her." " Nay, you may do worse." From this simple word
he began the lover, which ended in the husband. A week ago,
May 1, 1798, a letter dated 1779, from one relation to another,
accidentally fell into my hands, in which it was said, " That Mr.
Hutton had written the History of the Family, and that it was
This trifling remark broached that resolution
a good one."
which had been brewing for seven years.
Authors tell us, " that all families are equally ancient, as
descended from Adam." However, none can pass current without proof impressions in their favour ; and, I am apprehensive,
many counterfeits are in circulation.

6

The

History of tke

If I cannot penetrate into the dark ages of antiquity, yet my
family, like every other of long standing in England, no doubt
carries the blood of the Britons, the Romans, Saxons, Danes,
and Normans.
Though the family of Hutton has for many ages waded
through the dregs of poverty, yet, its prior existence must have
been more elevated. This is corroborated by two circumstances
-the coat of arms, which is argenzt, on a fess, sable, three
bucks' heads caboshed, or; crest: a ducal coronet, or, pierced
with three broad arrows, sable, two in saltire, and one in pale.
The other is an estate, which in I701 fell to my grandfather,
as descended from a younger branch, then worth 401. a year,
now, perhaps, 2001., but he refused to travel into Yorkshire from
Derby to take possession. This will be resumed in its place.
Most families have an attachment to a favourite name, which
descends with the heirs of the house. Thus the family of Gresley
retain that of Nigel, Ferrers that of Sewell, and Blount that of
Walter; all prior to the Conquest. Ours never forsakes those of
Thomas and Catherine. These, though in a plain style, have
existed for ages, and it would be deemed a family transgression
to infringe upon them. There were, in 1786, but six males, and
four of them were Thomas; three females, and two of them
were Catherine; so that the present generation may always be
said to represent the last.
If they have not had an estate entailed upon them, they
have had a name.
Again, some families have had their propensities and dislikes
to a profession, or an amusement. A family I well know has
pleaded at the bar during four generations, without advancing
or sinking a step. Another has filled a pulpit, and to as little
purpose. In a third, the bag and the gun have been handed
down from one generation to another, accompanied by a few
rotten wings as trophies of the field.
Something like the reverse has been the case of my family.
My grandfather's grandfather made hats, but none of his descendants ever touched one, except to wear it.
son, my
great-grandfather, was a shearman, and the last who handled
the shears. He afterwards kept a pot of ale, but none of his
descendants cared to draw the spiggot. His son, my grandfather, was famous for dressing flax, catching fish, keeping pigs,
and writing'sermons. He also was the last of the family who
pricked his fingers with the heccle, assumed the angle-rod, or

'His

Hutton Family.

7

took down a sermon. My father was a woolcomber; but with
him the family bid an eternal farewell to the comb-pot. He
placed his three sons (two brothers and myself) to a stockingmaker; they forsook the trade, and perhaps are the last that
will ever forsake it.
The characteristics of the family were honesty and supieneness.
The last was fatally verified in my grandfather, who refused
to travel from Derby to Northallerton to possess an estate,
although his house was upon the verge of want.
They were steady in religion, for they were Dissenters from
the first establishment of that sect under Bishop Hooper. Also
they have been steady in their love of peace, and of pudding;
remarkable for memory; not much given to receive, keep, or
pay money; often sensible, always modest. The males still,
the females remarkable for capacity. All these important points
will be proved upon my ancestors as I descend the line. They
are out-sketches of the pictures I shall draw.
THE FIRST GENERATION,
-From
1586 to

1656.

That branch from which I am descended was resident at
Northallerton, but at what time they settled there is uncertain,
and whether originally of Yorkshire or Cumberland equally
uncertain; but I believe they were all from one stock. The
first of whom we have any certain knowledge was
THOMAS,
a hatter of eminence at Northallerton, who lived in repute,
and employed many workmen. And low, yet with him sunk
the elevation of the family.
Upwvards I trace my ancestry
To learn what ancient heroes clatter,
But to my disappointment, I

Find nothing greater than a hatter.
What praises then deserve the labours
Of him who daily crowned his neighbours.
SECOND THOMAS.

From 1616 to 1691.
D
The son of the first Thomas, and, I have reason to think,

8

The History of tke

not the eldest, was my father's grandfather, born at Northallerton, in I6I6. Was bred a shearman.*
The civil wars breaking out in 1642, between Charles the
First and his Parliament, he entered into the service of the
latter, under the Earl of Manchester, as a private trooper,
and served afterwards under Sir Thomas Fairfax and Oliver
Cromwell. From these famous generals he learned the cruel art
of slaughtering men, proudly called victory. He was at several
engagements, as Marston Moor, Naseby, Worcester, &c., and
was one of the detachment sent in pursuit of the unfortunate
Charles the Second, when secreted in the oak at Boscobel, and
I have heard my father say they nearly guessed where the king
was hid, but did not choose to search.
In
the regiment in which he served, marching over St.
Mary's Bridge at Derby, in their way to Nottingham, he (my
great-grandfather) observed a girl of fifteen, a few yards below
the bridge, lading water into her pail while standing upon the
batting-lag. t Some soldierly jokes ensued, when our trooper
dismounted and cast a large stone with a view to splash her;
but not being versed in directing a stone so well as a bullet,
he missed the water, and broke her head.
Alarmed at this unexpected result of his rude attack, he
hastened towards the front of the regiment to avoid the consequence. Thus the man who had boldly faced an enemy in
the field, fled with fear from a harmless child. Offered injuries disarm. She instantly, with cries and tears, left her pail,
went home, for her residence was only at the bridge-foot,
where her mother was frightened at seeing a stream of blood.
The unknown consequences of this adventure hung upon
the trooper's mind. He left the regiment in 1658, after a
service of sixteen years, when, " the world being all before
him where to choose," he fixed upon Derby, followed his occupation, courted a young woman, and in 1659 married her.

1647,

SIn his " Trip to Coatham," Hutton says: "This town was, two
hundred years ago, the residence of my family. My grandfather's grandfather was a native, and enjoyed the capital honour of furnishing the
place with hats. Walking in the churchyard it occurred to my thoughts
that I might be treading on the dust of my ancestors, and being myself
indisposed whilst there, I thought I might probably leave my dust to mix

with theirs. I inquired after my relations but found the name was extinct.
t Beating-log, upon which the dyer stands to beat his cloth.

Huton.Famrily-

9

In the course of their conversations he proved to be the very
man who had cast the stone, and she the girl with the broken
head. Her name was Catherine Smith: hence the name
of Catherine continues in the family.* She was sixteen years
younger than her husband. "
Their residence was about the middle of Bridge-gate, on the
south, where they kept ale and harmony about thirty years.
During that period they produced ten children. He died in
1691, at the age of seventy-five.
A well-made man, about five
feet nine. No issue survives of any of the ten, except from
the eldest son, my grandfather.
Three pieces of antiquity belonging to this warrior fell into
my possession, which I preserved as relics : A brass spoon
of a singular construction, very ancient, ill-suited to fit the
mouth, and graced with the image of a saint at the top in his
sacerdotal robes,f perhaps plundered from a Roman Catholic.
This spoon he carried in his pocket for private use during
his peregrinations. His broadsword, drawn for liberty, his
companion and guard during the sixteen years' service.§ These
were both taken from me at the riots, with more than o,oool.
value in other property. The third was the fragment of a mug,
which had been in daily use during fourscore years. The
rioters did not think this worth taking, because empty. 1
" This anecdote, rather differently told, appears in Hutton's " listory
of Derby."
+ Thomas Hutton and Catherine Smith were married in 1659. Thomas,
their eldest son, was baptized at St. Alkmund's Church, Derby, on the 29th
July, 166o, and other entries relating to their issue are :A child of Thomas Hutton buried 166o.
Thomas, son of Thomas HIutton, baptized 29th July, 166o.
Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Hutton, baptized July 25th, 1663.
John, son of Thomas Hutton, baptized November, 1665.
Catherine, daughter of Thomas iHutton, baptized March ioth, 1667.
Thomas Hutton died in 1691, aged 75, and was buried at St. Alkmund's Church, on the 3rd of September in that year. His wife, Catherine
Smith, died.in 1688, three years before her husband, and was buried at the
same church on the 2nd July, 1688.
$ This would be an apostle spoon.
§ " His sword, in my possession," Hutton wrote in 1791, before the
Birmingham rioters deprived him of it, "was drawn for liberty on Marston
Moor, under the Earl of Manchester; at Naseby, under Fairfax ; and at
Worcester under Cromwell ; and was carried in pursuit of the unfortunate
Charles to Boscobel."
See " Tie Mug1 in the seventh volume of (MS.) poems.
"

11

Jo

The History of the
THE THIRD GENERATION,
Connprehending, as usual, the tine from the birth of the first,
to the death of the last-from 1659 to 17 34.
THOMAS,

my grandfather, the eldest son of the second Thomas, born,
He
as above, in 1659, about the middle of Bridge-gate.*
never resided out of St. Alkmund's parish, nor in more than
three houses, nor one hundred yards from the church. Neither
did he ever travel more than twelve miles from home, and that
but once ; nor more than thirty yards to procure a wife.
While an infant in arms, a neighbour's female child, three or
four years older than himself, was very fond of him, frequently
nursed him, and taught him to walk. Their parents observing
this tenderness between the infants, remarked: "Who knows
but these two may one day make a match ?" which really happened twenty-two years after. Thus it may be fairly said, he
was beloved by one female from the day of his birth to that of
his death. Her name was Elinor Jennings, born in St. Alkmund's
churchyard, where, seventy years after, she was interred. Her
father was a Baptist preacher one day in the week, and a shoemaker the other six. I knew her in 1726. She died in October
the ensuing year.
Thomas, the present subject of my pen, was bred a flaxdresser, which he followed through life, was a man remarkably
quiet, easy, and inoffensive, totally uncalculated for business, or
SThis date would seem to be an error. The entry in the register of
St. Alkmund's Church, Derby, is " 166o, July 29, Bap. Thomas, sonne
of Thomas Hutton."
H.is eldest son, Thomas, died quite an infant, having been baptized on

the 26th of October, 1686, and buried on the 29th of the same month.
HIis next child was another son, whom he also baptized Thomas, on the
6th November, 1687. The entries are :1686.-Oct. 26, Bap. Thomas, the son of Thomas Hutton.
1686.-Oct. 29, Bur. the above child.
1687. Nov. 6, Bap. Thomas son of Thomas Hutton.
169.-Sep. 17, Bur. John, son of Thomas Hutton.
1694-5.-March 24, Bap. George, son of Thomas Hutton.
Thomas Hutton died in 1708, and was buried at St. Alkmund's
Church on the 9th of December in that year. His wife, Elinor (entered
in the register as Ellen) survived him many years, and was buried in the
same churchyard on the 7th September, 1727.

Hutton Family.

II

the protection of his property, though he had very little to protect;
no way adapted for combating the rough passions of man, but
formed for a milder world. A kind of cypher in the creation.
He married, about the age of twenty-four, Elinor Jennings,
as above, and resided in one of those small houses in Bridgegate, which fronts St. Alkmund's Church on the north, which
you leave close on the left as you cross Bridge-gate from the
churchyard, entering the foot-road to Darley. I think those
dwellings consist only of a house* and a chamber each.
Here was as much love as the house could contain, which was
excellent furniture, and here my father was born.
With all Thomas's simplicity, he was fond of indulging in his
little pleasures. The fishing-rod was his dear delight. Not a
fish swam in the Derwent but he knew it; nor had they a recess
or shelter-hole but he knew how to find it.
Their various sorts of food were as familiar to him as his
own, and he had rather want food himself than suffer them.
Three or four days a week he attended with his rod to the
detriment of his family. Not satisfied with the time allowed
by the sun, he followed up his favourite amusement by the
light of the moon, and often found his way home with an
empty stomach after midnight.
Fond of pigs, he could not bear to see the sty empty. I
have heard my father say that the frequent pressure of the pail
upon his head, in bringing food for the sty, damped his growth
two inches. The consequence of this bristly connexion was,
sometimes a loss of money, and always of time.
Strongly biassed by religion, he made a practice of taking
down the sermon in short hand; a compliment, at least, to the
preacher. At his death he had accumulated a strike sack ftill,
so that he may be said to have collected the religion of an age
into a hempen focus.
In or about 1701, a person came to Derby to bring him
back to Northallerton, to take possession of an estate, then of
" He
40o/. a year, to which he was become heir at law.
thanked the messenger for his kindness, entertained him, and
told him he would not travel so far for an estate of much
greater value; neither did he care who possessed it."t Yet, at
* "House,"
in this case, means the "house-place,"
i.e., a coammon
living room on the ground floor.
t This circumstance will be found again alluded to under the date of

1807.

12.

The History of the

this very time, his family were almost starving for bread. I
mentioned this to an acquaintance some years back, and observed that, " I would have gone to America for such an
estate." He replied, " He would have gone to the devil."
When a man can -take up a fortune at one grasp, it is
preferable to sweating out a life to raise one. My grandfather's neglect of the -Yorkshire estate was not his sole oversight. • A relation of the name of Hutton, about a second
cousin, who had saved a thousand pounds by being coachman
in the Curzon family forty years, and who had no nearer relation, yet Thomas could never be prevailed upon to cultivate
his friendship, although he stood the fairest chance of having
the whole. He left him nothing.
This quiet being-this milk-and-water character-who was
extremely respected as having never been concerned in a
quarrel, done an ill thing, or said an ill-natured one, died of a
decline three weeks before Christmas, 17o8, at the age of fortynine. He was about five feet three.
ELIZABETH.

Of the remaining nine children, who were contemporary
with the last Thomas (my grandfather), and who were descended from the second, I can give but little account. Some
of them, I apprehend, died in infancy. The eldest of these
was Elizabeth, afterwards married to one Gilbert, a blacksmith.* She was said to have enjoyed the honour of " supplying Derby with oat-cakes during threescore years."t She
survived the other nine. I personally knew her; a little old
woman, as cross in her temper as ill-nature could make her. She
died in 1734, without a mourner, at the age of seventy-three.
JAMES

was another, of whom I am obliged to be silent, only that he
passed away a life of insignificance. He had one son, who,
arriving towards man's estate, was taken off by a consumption.
Elizabeth Hutton was baptized in St. Alkmund's Church, Derby,
July 25th, 1663. She married December 27th, 1702, at the same church,
John Gilbert; and died in 1734.

S+ Oat cakes were at that time the usual food of the inhabitants of
Derbyshire, and they are still much eaten in the Peak district of that
county.

Hutton Family.

I3

JOHN

was another.*
He was the man who purchased the house
east of St. Mary's Bridge, now the China works,t for 35/., but
being master of only 28/., mortgaged the premises to Mr.
Crompton, a banker, for the other seven. But becoming old,
poor, and inheriting the supineness of the Hutton family, suffered
the trifling interest to remain unpaid, till the mortgagee seized
the premises. The freehold, in 1743, fell into the hands of my
father, as heir-at-law, who assigned over his interest to Mr.
Crompton for a guinea. Thus it appears that my family were
as little able to keep as to acquire property.
CATHERINE

was the youngest of the ten. She married a Boltbee or Boltby,f
They left a daughter, who
whom I knew. He died in
died in 1743, unmarried.
Thus we have wandered through the third generation, conten cyphers!
sisting of something like this, oooooooooo,No issue survives, except from the eldest, my grandfather, the
third Thomas, so that we are again reduced to one head.

'1728.

THE FOURTH GENERATION.
From i685 to

1768.

The children of the third Thomas (my grandfather) were six.
The two first died in very early life, of whom nothing can be
said, except that they slept before their time. Nor is it of
much consequence whether a man sleeps at one, or one
hundred. When the candle is out, no matter how long it has
*John Hutton was baptized at St. Alkmund's Church, Derby, in
, and his children, according
November, 1665. He married Mary
to the register of that church, were Katherine, baptized September 3rd,
7th, 1691-2, and buried March 14th,
1689; John, baptized February
1694-5; and another John, buried September 14th, 1706. His wife, Mary,
was buried January 6th, 17oo00, and he himself was buried April 20th, 1721.
t The Derby China works were situated on the Nottingham road, near
to St. Mary's Bridge. They were carried on by three generations of the
Duesbury family, and in their palmy days produced some of the finest and
most choice of porcelain.
+ Catherine Hutton was baptized at St. Alkmund's -Church, Derby,

March

Ioth,

1667.

S14

The History of the

burnt. The other children were, Thomas, William, (my father,)
George, and Catherine; of whom in order.
THOMAS,
the eldest. of the surviving children of the third Thomas
was born in 1687.* He was one of the most amiable characters I ever met with, for, in point of temper, filial duty,
gentle manners, prudent conduct, industry, and sanctity, he
His genius was
stands at the head of the Hutton family.
singular, in executing in a masterly style whatever he undertook. His handwriting surpassed that of most masters; his
This man, like his
mechanical knowledge was wonderful.
father, had no enemy.
Arriving at man's estate, he paid his addresses to a girl of
the name of Catherine Magson, but the affair terminated in
addresses.
Afterwards, the next brother, William (my father)
courted her, but their love ended as the last.
These weighty
concerns being finished, the flame of love was kindled in the
breast of George, the youngest brother, but expired like the
two former.
I knew this woman twenty-five years after, in
1743, and was not surprised that they desisted, but that they
ever made the attempt. I thought her one of the most large
and masculine of her sex. I concluded she rather courted
them than they her. I saw her handle a sword with all the
How this could tally with domestic
graces of a dragoon.
happiness is doubtful. What may we expect when a woman
steps out of her sex ? I thought this Amazonian better adapted
to kill with her hand than her eye.
This worthy, this amiable character, Thomas, from the age
of twenty, when he lost his father, supported a poor mother
and a young sister by his hand labour. From the same source
he paid all his father's debts contracted by the fishing-rod and
the pigs.
He wa seized with mortification in the bowels, which
carried him off in 1717, at the age of twenty-nine.
He was
five feet ten.
WILLIAM (my father),
the second son of the

third Thomas, born July 25, 1691.

SThis Thomas Huttton was baptized at St. Alkmund's, Derby, November 6th, 1687.

Hutton Family.

I5

His name would have been James, after his uncle, but partyspirit running high at the revolution between the contending
sovereigns, James and William, and his father being a Williamite, he called him after King William, which introduced
the name.
During his minority, he swept the school for his education,
so that his knowledge rose from the dirt. He was further
employed in procuring food for his father's pigs, play for himself, and aples by every means he could devise; one of which
was as follows :-His father's landlord not having room to
deposit his crop of apples from the adjoining orchard, requested the tenant to let them be stored in his garret till
wanted, which was guarded by a trapdoor. No cunning exceeds
that of a child when interest prevails. William procured a
long stick, which terminated in a hook, and rising one stair
higher than his own height, raised the door with his head, and
drew as many apples every day as he chose to eat. He soon
looked pale, lost his appetite, with a redundancy of trash, and
seemed approaching a consumption, but the heap of apples was
found in a real one. Many bushels were missing, and his
father gave him the most severe of all his corrections.
He was bound apprentice to Moses Orme, a woolcomber,
Jan. I, 1709, three weeks after the death of his father, and at the
ripe age of seventeen and a half; consequently his time could
not expire till he arrived at the mature age of twenty-four and
a half, which further indicates the supineness of the Hutton
temper.
During his servitude, he acquired thirty pounds over-work,
which supported him in a creditable style of dress, and enabled
him to sport a watch, great in those early days. In the interval
between the expiration of his servitude and marriage, which
was two years, he dressed gaily, took care of his person, played
at bowls, carried the finest head of hair in Derby, and carried
also within his head, as well as without, a tolerable share of
pride; but nothing is more laudable than pride, gaided by
reason: it keeps a man out of many evils. The girls thought
him a handsome man.
Unfortunately, in this interval, a cold settled in his right eye.
He was directed to one Finney, an eye-doctor, who undertook to
cure him, Zwieith te blessing of God, and whenever he applied
But auxiliary
nostrums, put up a prayer for their success.
powers were needless; for, by his own applications, he drew

16

The HIistory of the

the very eyeball out of his head, which hung upon the cheek
by two ligaments, like the egg of a bird upon a string. I
heard him say, that through excruciating pain, he had not one
hour's sleep during three weeks. The eye was again deposited
in its socket, and moved with the other, but was for ever deprived of sight, and continued to increase in size during life.
Feb. 8, 1718, he married Anne Ward, the daughter of Mathew
Ward, grocer, of Mountsorrel," by whom he had during the
fifteen years of their cohabitation nine children, who will compose our fifth generation. Whether they married from love or
custom is uncertain, for I never saw her give him a kiss, nor ever
saw him give her more than one. She (my mother) was approaching the middle size, had very dark hair, was a brown
beauty, with eyes perfectly black.
Soon after marriage, he became a master in the little way, as
every man must who begins with nothing. But his family
rapidly increasing, and he having no economy or talents for
trade, failed in about six years for a few trifling debts,
amounting in the whole to about fifty pounds, most of which
his effects discharged.
And now poverty stared him in the face. Employment, as
well as prudence, was wanting, which perhaps blunted the fine
sensations of love, to which was added the dead weight of fiN!
small children. This happened about the year 1725.
Every future view of prosperity was now closed; and the
His
mind, sinking under its own weight, became careless.
occupation taught him to drink, which he learned with willingness. Home became unpleasant, while his family wanted
bread. Memory could point out many a dreadful situation in
which we were placed during the eight ensuing years. My poor
mother.more than once, with one infant on the knee, and a
few more hanging about her, have fasted a whole day; and
when food arrived, she suffered them, with a tear, to take her
share. Time produced nothing but rags and children.
On Christmas Day, 1728, a knife was wanted for dinner; and
as my father was never in the habit of buyinz, except ale, he
sent my sister from King's Street to the Morlege to borrow
one, but not succeeding, in her return she found one, which
proved exactly the thing wanted; and I well remember there was
great joy over a trifle. Success supplied the want of value.
*

Mountsorrel in Leicestershire.

Hutton Family.

'7

My mother was an exceedingly prudent woman, but prudence itself can never make the marriage state happy, except
practised by both parties. She was praised and respected by
all who knew her, and frequently assisted. They (my father
and she) lived together fifteen years, when she died of her
ninth child, March 9, 1733, at the age of forty-one.
And now the restraints of a wife ceasing, and the children
being too young to influence, he seemed for a time to relinquish the care of a parent. At her death he was left with
five children, Catherine, aged fourteen, with her aunts at
Swithland ; Thomas, ten ; William (myself), nine; Anne, two;
and Samuel, five weeks; which last was put out to a wet nurse.
My father was peculiarly circumstanced in an amour. While
a bachelor, about 1716, he had paid his addresses to a young
woman, who favoured his suit. It happened that she married
another man, and he another woman, both less beloved.
She buried her husband, and he his wife, and in 1735 they
became lovers, in a second edition of courtship, and both
loved as before. But this, like the former attempt, miscarried,
though both willing, and each married another a second time.
He assured me in 1747, that "he loved her better than any
woman he ever saw." In 1753 I first saw her, and we became
acquainted. She appeared to be a person of good sense. By
this time she had had three husbands, and he three wives, yet
were not able to unite. I asked her if she had loved my
father ? and why the match did not take effect ? She assured
me he had her whole heart; but gave me to understand that
her father's consent, in the first instance, was wanting.
My mother being gone, and my father's talents no way
adapted to housekeeping, he immediately sold up, spent the
money, and, with his three remaining children, took lodgings
with Mary Sore (or Soar), a widow, who also held the freehold
of three young sons and one daughter. And now his three
forlorn children suffered all those evils which naturally flow from
the neglect of a parent. Though my brother Thomas and I
laboured daily, we experienced the want of bread, of apparel,
and appeared little beings whom nobody owned. But the poor
child Anne fared much worse. Unable to use her feet, she lay
neglected upon the floor, or fixed in a chair, during the day, till
I returned from the silk-mill in the evening, when she rejoiced
to see me; for my little remaining time was devoted to her
amusement. But, alas! it was of little avail, for in five months

The History of the

18

she died through bad nursing. My father loved her, and wept
sorely at her death, as I at the remembrance, but, overwhelmed
with poverty, he lost all command over his conduct.
Mary Sore, I thought, rather rejoiced at the death of my
poor little sister ; perhaps for two reasons, to divert him, but,
chiefly, because one obstacle was removed which might retard
a future union.
With Mary Sore, who was a fine figure, tolerably handsome,
and intolerably ignorant, completely vulgar, and completely
filthy, he continued ten years. It may fairly be supposed that
a man and woman thus situated would become lovers. He
faintly courted her, she strenuously courted him, and, which is
a common case, the 'more she advanced the more he retreated.
However, matters, I believe, would have terminated in a
matrimonial issue, had not half a dozen children and the
prospect of more stood in the way. Love, if not founded upon
equitable principles, will, like your coat, wear to rags. This
was the case before us.
We might reasonably suppose a man of forty-three, who had
lost an eye, and was encumbered with four or five children,
would stand upon the lowest terms of favour with the fair sex.
But the very reverse was the case. During the ten years of his
he courted several women, both maids and
being a
widows, and governed them all, and all loved him. Exclusive
of the woman mentioned above, whom he courted twice and
missed, there was a second, whom we denominated " The
Mickleover Woman," from her residing there. Her he courted
while a bachelor, but no union ensued. They both married,
buried, and, like the other, courted again, and, like that, the
match fell to the ground.
Mary Sore was extremely jealous of this woman, often
dreamed on the subject, and summoned the senior damsels
of the neighbourhood, skilled in dreams, to interpret them.
Coffee-grounds were most earnestly wished for, but, alas! they
were out of the reach of the pocket. However, a rusty pack of
cards was procured, which was the grand irim and thummini
of the day., These, by cutting, shuffling, and placing in various
directions, were to solve every question in love. They were to
tell what he would say to Mary, and if out whether he was gone
to Mickleover, and what the result. Though the sorceress, for
a pipe of tobacco, chose to prophesy favourably, yet the queen
of hearts and the queen of spades were often in malign aspect.

-widower

Hutton Family.

I9

My father was informed, in the beginning of 1743, that
Benjamin Gudger, a person he had well-known forty years,
was taken ill and could not recover. His wife entering a
public-house one morning where my father was drinking, he
behaved to her with uncommon civility, pressed her to stay;
" he would treat her with a glass of whatever she chose."
She was surprised at this singular attention, which seemed to
issue out of former cold civility. He well understood it, and
so did she six months after, when her husband was dead,
he offered her another.
He married her at Michaelmas that year, and she paid him
good interest for staying ten, for she was a most excellent
woman. I am sorry I cannot bestow the same epithet upon
him. Hitherto his judgment had been admirable in the choice
of a wife. He observed at her funeral, "She might have human
infirmities, but she had not one fault." We may reasonably
conclude, if a wife has no faults, a husband ought to behave as
if she had none. Two amiable wives is more than one man has
a right to expect, especially if he ventures among widows, the
remains of whose first love is not extinguished. They lived
together five years, and he lost her in November, 1748, giving
her many a bitter pill.
Losing his second wife, Alice, he continued a widower four
years, broke up housekeeping, and, as in the former case,
took up his abode with Mary Sore, as if there was something in
this woman too good to be let alone, and too bad to be
accepted.
In 1752, he ventured upon a third wife, Elizabeth, another
widow; but, alas !his authority began to fail; diseases began
to approach, particularly the stone, attended with a paralytic
And now
affection, which entirely broke up his constitution.
the tables were turned; for, instead of that attention which
he experienced from his two former wives, she treated him
with great unkindness; and, as he could make no resistance,
he often felt the weight of her hand. This ought to be a
lesson against marrying in advanced life, for love is not apt to
take root after forty, especiailly in a second venture. After a
miserable life, pressed down with affliction, he departed,
December 13, 1758, at the age of sixty-seven. Five feet seven,
corpulent, weighing sixteen stone.
The powers of his mind were strong. His memory was
tenacious, and his head well stored with knowledge. His

alrd

c2

20

The Hislory of

e

judgment was frequently sought after in critical cases. I remember at Christmas,
being in his company, when a dispute
arose concerning a point of law. He decided the question,
and, as I then thought, fairly; but was contradicted, which
always hurt him. He remarked, "From a gentleman, the decision would have passed, but not from a poor wool-comber." It
afterwards appeared he was right.
He was fond of reading, but never purchased a book, but
supported his literary existence by borrowing, and often forgot
to return. He spoke as correctly as if trained to letters. Had
he been born in affluence, he might have figured in the senate
or at the bar, but penury damps every rising idea.
He was by far the most eloquent speaker I ever heard in low
life, and nearly the best in any life. His manner was decisive,
his words were well adapted to the subject, and flowed with
ease. Perhaps this was a loss to his family; for his company
was courted by all who knew him. But with all these accomplishments, he had no ideas of business or economy. He who
Severity to
can neither get nor keep must continue poor.
children was one of his maxims, which I have since found
erroneous; for reason opens in a child at a very early period, and
he is easier drawn than driven. But with all ny father's errors, I
cannot forbear revering his memory. He was of an even temper; not addicted to laughter himself, yet could, when he
pleased, make others. He said many smart things, often satirical, and could easily set the company upon the tiptoe of mirth.
Like his ancestors, he was an advocate for religion, and
attended public worship when the tap suffered him to take care
of his person. He read, and taught his children to read, religious books; made many resolutions against intemperance,
which were dispersed by the spiggot, as a cloud by the sun.
I went from Nottingham, March 6, 1742, to see a contested election between Pole and Duncannon, and, looking
into my father's pocket-book, I found this resolution, written
a month before : " O Lord, by Thy assistance, I will not enter
a public-house on this side Easter." This proves how heavy
his misconduct hung upon his mind. This resolution, like
many others weakly founded, was forgotten, for he was intoxicated during my stay, which was from Saturday morning
till Sunday night. He was often in liquor, but always goodnatured. His children knew his weak side, and omitted
soliciting a favour till the barrel worked.

1738,

Huiton Family.

2I

GEORGE,

(The third son of the third Thomas, my grandfather).
I have now a shorter life to write, but a most amiable
character to draw, though of less shining talents. Of the three
brothers, the eldest and the youngest were among the best of
the human race; the middle most excelled in mental powers.
Two might be held up to guide the passenger in the right way,
the other to avoid the wrong.
1695. I never heard that he
George was born March II,
entered into any employment till put apprentice to a stockingmaker under John Gretton. y
During his apprenticeship, the rebellion in 1715 broke out,
when he entered as a dragoon in the service of the Crown,
under General Carpenter. The regiment was at the battle of
Preston, but he, with the rest of the recruits, was left to guard
the baggage.
The rebellion being quelled, he, with many others, was
discharged, without being in the service long enough to assume the uniform. This flimsy contest being over, he returned
to his master during the remainder of his time, two years, and
attended so closely to the frame that he earned ten pounds
over-work. At his out-come, the master, sensible of his merit,
declared "he would walk one hundred miles for a servant as
valuable."
This worthy and industrious son and brother then entered
upon housekeeping; and as his eldest brother was dead, maintained his sister till she married in 1726, and his mother till her
death in 1727.

Although he had no pretensions to beauty, yet I am apprised of three amours while a bachelor. The first was with
a country girl, of plain manners. Those who are adepts in
courtship are well acquainted with the little arts of winning;
as the pleasing smile, the efficacious cast of the eye, the gentle
tap, the soft squeeze of the hand, the endearing word, the
delightful clasp in the arms, and the innocent kiss. She,
however, would suffer none of these, but ordered him to keep
his distance, " for she could hear him if he stood two yards
The prohibitions of the fair are sometimes disregarded.
off."
George forgot to keep them, and made his approaches beyond
the line, but met reproof in the following dialect : "Luc yo nau ;
* See "Election Ale," in the sixth volume of (MS.) Poems,

22

The History of the

conna yo ston there, an' I ston here? I con hear w'ot yo han
to se." George, disliking the distance, dropped the pursuit by
removing to a greater !
A person of the name of Abraham Taylor, whom I well
knew, had observed George's conduct, and wished him to
marry his daughter, but was at a loss how to open the affair,
for they were no further acquainted than a bow, as attending
the same place of worship. Abraham watched an opportunity
of opening a conversation, accompanied with a smile, and, in
the course of chat, told George he was going three miles into
the country, and should be glad of his company. Consent was
granted.
While on the road, words seemed to labour in
Taylor's breast, from which he knew not how to deliver them.
This being observed by my uncle, " You seem, sir, to have
something to say to me." .This broke the ice, and concluded
with offering his daughter and a fortune many times larger than
his own. A courtship opened, which soon closed. Mr. Taylor
quarrelled with my uncle, and was near striking him, for illtreating his daughter. But George modestly told him, "if he
did strike, he would not return it ; that he had no disrespect
towards the girl, or the family, but that he thought the first
requisite in a married state was love, and, as he could not fix
his affections upon her, he had too much regard for her to be
the author of her misery."
The third (exclusive of Catherine Magson, mentioned in
the life of Thomas) was Miss Betsy, who exhibited a list of
twenty lovers, at the head of which stood George Hutton. She
afterwards married John Hall. I have celebrated this incident
in the fourth volume of Poems. [Whether she was handsome
I cannot say. At the age of forty-five I knew her well, but the
time to decide the question was past. She had many lovers besides my uncle, and like a miser, was still grasping at more. She
was a wholesale trader in human beings. Vanity prompted her to
form a muster-roll of her lovers. Vanity then did a worse thing,
for it tempted her to show the list. The circumstance reached
the ears of her parents, who demanded a sight of the roll. It
was found to contain exactly twenty names. Her parents
showed great displeasure, ordered her to quit this vile recruiting
trade, and instantly fix upon the man preferred to the others
for a husband. She named George Hutton. My uncle was
then given to understand that he might marry Miss Betsy; but,
by this time, the list had been handed about, and my uncle,

Hu/lon Family.

23

who had ~Iard of it, was afraid of being one of twenty, though
the first. He thought, if she retained twenty men while single,
one might not satisfy her when married; he therefore declined
the blessing.
Being unfortunately reduced to nineteen lovers, Miss Betsy
was now required to name the next upon the roll. She fixed
upon John Hall. He gloried in disappointing eighteen anxious
expectants, and eagerly seized the prize. The little loves that
wait upon marriage flew around the happy pair ; but it was soon
found they were birds of passage, for they flew away. She often
struck fire, and he quickly caught the flame.
Each passed
through life with a clog at the heels, and both ended their days
in the workhouse.]
In 1728, George Hutton married Elizabeth, daughter of
Thomas Spiby, of Nottingham, who neither brought him money
or issue. This union induced him to quit Derby, and reside
there. Notwithstanding the female taxes upon his industry, of
a mother and sister, he had acquired, by the year 1732, about
1ool.

One Tortoishell, an intimate acquaintance, entered into the
hosiery line in London, and having purchased goods of George
and others of his friends to a large amount, decamped with the
whole, and defrauded them all. I believe my uncle got nothing
in return but two useless journeys to London. Thus, at one
blow, went his little capital, which had cost him many years in
accumulating, and left him totally unable to satisfy his creditors.
Honest in principle, and not accustomed to be dunned, he
laboured night and day at a most unproductive trade till he had
paid all their demands.
Fourteen years after, he remarked
to me, while on his death-bed, that Tortoishell left him fourscore pounds worse than nothing, but that he had paid it, and
acquired fourscore since.
I served seven years as an apprentice to this worthy man,
this amiable character, whose person I loved, and whose memory
I revere, notwithstanding he once beat me to that degree, and
with an unmerciful broom-stick of white hazel, that I thought
he would have fractured my bones and dislocated my joints,
and all for a trifling error, scarcely meriting a reprimand; but
-he was influenced by passion, possessed of power, and I was
obliged to submnit.
I never knew a better husband, son,
brother, (or master.)
There is something peculiarly melancholy in the termination

24

The History of the

of existence which attends the members of the Huron family.
The little good fortune experienced through life, if any, vanishes;
their remaining moments are embittered, and they depart in
wretchedness, want, and distress. Their weekly earnings being
small, and consumed as soon as earned, nothing remains for sickness, age, or accident. Deprived of the benefits of their own labour,
they are dependent on the scanty succour of others. My grandfather, the third Thomas, sustained a long decline, and, as the
maintenance of his wife and children chiefly arose from the
labour of his hands, distress and dependence followed. His
son, my father, during the last six years of his life, groaned
under the palsy, the stone, severe poverty, and the greater
severity of a cruel wife. His brother, my uncle George, the
present subject, was a man of a cheerful temper, who, in the
passage through life, did all that prudence could suggest to
keep matters together, and accumulate. Two years prior to
his death, disorders began to rise, and nature to sink. He
had five apprentices, meant to assist in family support. During
the first six months two became out of their time, whom he could
not replace; and a few weeks after the other three ran away
without any cause, and never returned, but to plague him. I
cQuld enumerate other instances.
This worthy man (my uncle George) died September i9
I746, owing to the bursting of a blood-vessel, by straining to
vomit, in a fit of the gravel, at the age of fifty-one [and thus
escaped the poverty which began to stare him in the face.] He
had sustained two years' illness. He was about five feet seven
inches, of a thin habit, and dark complexion.
CATHERINE (my aunt),

the only daughter and youngest child of the third Thomas,
was born in 1699, in the same house where her brother George
was, at the bottom of St. Helen's Walk. She was supported
by her brother, as observed above, till mature age, when she
was employed at the silk-mill.
She possessed a large share of sense and beauty; and her
brother still maintaining her, gave her an advantage beyond
her sex; for while other girls spread their daily earnings a
little upon the back, but more upon the belly, she gave all
hers upon the former. This made her fortune; for as the best
in every sphere holds a pre-eminence, she was singled out by

Hultton Family.

25

a master of the works, Mr. Samuel Fletcher, who married her
in 1726, and retired to his estate at Standbach [or Standsbridge], in the county of Hereford, where she enjoyed affluence
and happiness. She died of an asthma in 1768, at the age of
Her son
sixty-nine, leaving two sons and two daughters.
enjoys the estate.
Her person was of the larger size, brown and ruddy, with
dark eyes; her gait and manner were majestic, her judgment
just, and her sense masculine. She spoke with fluency, and
much to the purpose. Yet with all the sense that could adorn
a woman, and every domestic excellence that could adorn a
wife, she was tinctured with a most unaccountable paltry pride.
Thus one scabbed sheep spoils the flock. She was so ashamed
of her mean origin, that she strenuously endeavoured to keep
it a profound secret from the world, and particularly from the
neighbourhood where she resided, about one hundred miles
from Derby. Nay, even her children knew no more of her life
before marriage, than the children born in Egypt. But the more
she endeavoured to conceal it, the more the neighbours pryed,
which was a continual worm upon the mind. As poverty is
no crime, she ought not to have been impressed with shame.
A smile would have disappointed reflection. Had she treated
it as a joke, every one would have ceased. She secretly prohibited a visit from her relations, except they should appear in
genteel life, and even then they were enjoined silence. My
father, in the momentary effusions of love, mentioned a visit.
" She wished him to come well dressed, and on horseback,
because her husband's relations were genteel." My brother
visited her on foot : his reception did not strike her with joy.
She understood I kept a horse. "Why did not William come ?"
Had I paid a visit in my own carriage, I must have been received with open arms.
Thus we have drawn our line through four descents. As
Thomas, the eldest son in this generation, died a bachelor, and
as George, the youngest, never had issue, we are again reduced
to one stem, William (my father), which shows that we are not
a prolific race, and that we can barely keep the name alive.
William, by his first wife Anne, had nine children: Catherine;
*Her husband pre-deceased her, and she had remarriedg,

26

The History of the

Anne, who died young; Thomas ; William (myself) ; Matthew,
George (a second), Anne, and John, who all four died in
infancy; and Samuel. Of the four surviving children, in order.
THE FIFTH GENERATION.
From 1718.

ATot definct, May

15,

1798.

CATHERINE (my sister),
daughter of William, born December rI,

I718,

was early bred

by her mother to industry, and, in infancy, acquired a character
for sense and conduct. At ten she left her mother, whom
she ardently loved, but saw no more, to reside with two cross
aunts at Swithland, near Mountsorrel, who carried on the tripartite calling of mercer, grocer, and village milliner.
Being handsome, she was, at twelve, singled out by William Perkins, a neighbour, and tailor, a personable figure with
a slender capacity, of astonishing industry and complete economy, who for thirteen years adhered as closely to her as to
himself.
At twenty she chose to enter into service, and lived with a
Dissenting minister at Reresby, in Leicestershire, about five
years, till his death. In this servitude she gave the utmost
satisfaction, for she was never bid twice to do the same thing.
As the family declined housekeeping, they recommended her
to the service of Mr. Ambrose Rudsdall, another Dissenting
minister, at Gainsborough.
During the interval between quitting one service and entering the other, William (Perkins) had the address to gain
her consent to a private marriage, which she granted upon
three express conditions " that he should .resign the office
of clerk of Swithland Church ; that they should reside wherever he pleased except at Swithland; and, as she had pronised to serve at Gainsborough, she would not break her word,
but would serve one year. All which were readily granted
on his side, and the marriage on hers, in August, 1743.
She resided two years in this service, when her mistress
died, the master quitted the place, and William (Perkins)
-Baptized at All Saints Church, Derby.
Catherine, Daughter of William Hutton."

" 1718, December 21, Bap.

H,tton Fa ily.

27

took a house in Mountsorrel, and they resided together three
months.
In January, i746, she came to Nottingham to see her friends.
My uncle George, among other remarks, "hoped she was
happily united." She replied in a tone of dissonance, and
shook her head, though I cannot, after fifty-two years, give
the expression. And now opened a sorrowful scene; disagreement followed disagreement for more than three months,
without any allegement of consequence on either side; but
it was easy to see the heart was wanting.
Her friends promoted a reconciliation, in which I took
the lead; and William Perkins purchased a house in Mountsorrel, where they were to be happy during life. Still matters
returned to their former untoward state. An unwillingness for
the house began to appear. The title was defective. He would
reside nowhere but at Swithland, where she would not. The
separation continued, without plan, without design. She never
quitted Nottingham, nor did they ever after live one day together. This disagreement, seemingly upon nothing, astonished the friends of both.
Her aversion increased. He approached her with a small
degree of fear, appeared little before her, and I have seen her
turn sick at the sight. From 1746 to 1750 she resided in
Berward Lane, laboured hard at the spinning-wheel, and my
brother Thomas and I resided with her as lodgers. All thoughts
of a union were given up.
In March, 1755, I paid her a visit at Nottingham, after an
absence of five years. One evening, when she and I were
left alone, the unfortunate marriage was brought up. I could
not forbear expressing my "surprise that two prudent people,
who could agree with every one else, could not agree with
each other." She told me "she never had an affection for any
man; that she had thought so little upon the subject of love,
that she scarcely deemed it necessary in marriage, and could
not conceive how she was persuaded to give her hand. That
the cause of disagreement between her and William (Perkins),
for she could not call him husband, as she conceived they
were not lawfully married, lay within her own breast, and
never was or should be, revealed to any one. That she had
written down her sentiments, which at her death would be
found, specifying the reasons of her conduct."
She lived thirty-three years after this declaration, followed, in

28

The History of the

retired life, the drapery business, and acquired a fortune of
more than 15001., although she spent a life of affliction, which
proved expensive.
She died February 26,
at the age of sixty-seven, much
lamented, when the writing alluded to thirty-three years before was found, and nearly in these words: "I never could
consider William Perkins as my husband, by any law divine or
human; for the design of marriage is to increase and multiply; therefore I cannot be deemed his wife, because I never
knew him as a husband."
Thus the fatal secret was disclosed, which modesty had concealed forty-three years. See the " Pleasures of Matrimony, or,
Kitty," in my fourth volume of Poems.
Her person was tall and slender, her complexion fair, her
hair red. In youth she was handsome. Her conduct in domestic
life a perfect pattern of prudence ; her temper even; her manner,
supported by good sense, was commanding.
Her judgment
may be said to be perfectly sound, for I never knew it to-err.
Her capacity was amazing. She was formed to guide. Wherever
she was concerned she directed, but always with reason and a
gentle hand. She influenced the affairs of the Church to which
she belonged, and, by a right and mild conduct, pleased all.
Her judgment, in difficult cases, was solicited by all who knew
her. She was fond of retirement, and of reading; had a most
retentive memory; was a strong religionist, which she sometimes saw reason to change; was punctual in her dealings,
extensive in her charities, to which she appropriated the daily
sum of sixpence, exclusive of the charities of the larger kind,
such as 20o. towards erecting a meeting-house, &c. I apprehend
she left the world without an enemy, except it was those who,
in the line of business, had cheated her.
The following is her character, drawn by my daughter,
Catherine Hutton :
My aunt had a spirit of dominion which drew every human
being round her into its vortex. Born with talents to command an empire, she governed every creature that approached
her. But as this spirit of domination was directed by a
judgment that. was always right, and accompanied by a benevolence that was always good, she was more beloved than feared.
After she had determined not to live with her husband,
whom she deemed unworthy, she was left without friends,
except her two brothers, younger than herself. To these one

1786,

Hutton Family.

29

would naturally imagine she would have looked up for protection and assistance. No. She took a house, maintained
herself by spinning, lodged her brothers, and though both are
the most sensible men ever found in that station, and my
father one of the most sensible ever found in any, she prescribed to them their way of life, regulated their expenses,
dictated what they should pay her, and governed them like
a couple of children.
When my father found the stocking-frame too narrow for his
talents, she was the only one of his friends who encouraged him
to quit it, and settle as a bookseller in Birmingham; every one
else threatened him with ruin. Her comprehensive mind took
in his capacity and frugality, and the probability of his success.
But she not only encouraged him by her advice, she assisted
him with money to purchase his books, tools, and defray necessary expenses ; and, without her ever possessing any other means
of accumulating money than servitude and spinning. He left
Nottingham fifteen pounds in her debt. She also lent him a uniform set of the "Spectator," "Tatler," and "Guardian," which
Rudsdall, her master, had made her a present of, like the
monsters in the shop of Shakespeare's apothecary, to make i a
skow; but, like the guineas in the pockets of the Vicar of
Wakefield's daughters, with strict orders never to ypart with them.
In this, however, he ventured to disobey her, for which he was
severely chidden.
After my father had left her (May 24, 1750), my uncle Hutton
still continued to lodge with her, and she took an illness, in
consequence of removing to a damp house, as extraordinary as
the subject of it. The circumstances cannot now be remembered, but I think I recollect her saying she had no evacuations
for six weeks. She kept her bed nearly a year, during which
time she subsisted upon her former earnings. She was attended
by Dr. Davison, the first physician in Nottingham, who at last
told her, "Madam, I confess I do not understand your case,
and I can do nothing for you."
She then procured "Owen's Dictionary," read it night and day
in bed; sent, at times, my uncle, or a woman who attended
her, and who both obeyed her orders with the greatest punctuality, for different remedies which she thought might suit her
complaints. At last she cured herself, to the great astonishment
of her physician, who occasionally visited her as a friend. In
the course of her illness there was one night when she thought

30

The History of the

she felt death approaching, and believed she should not live till
morning. She directed her brother where to find her money,
and delivered it to him, bidding him keep it; and in case his
brother Samuel should ever return from the army, share it with
him. It was ten pounds, all in silver. He kept it about five
weeks, when she recovering, he returned it.
The first time she went out was in a sedan, and she could not
bear the light of day, but was obliged to draw the curtains.
This illness happened in 1756. On her recovery she laid by
spinning, and commenced draper and haberdasher; kept no
shop, but sold her goods in a private manner at her own
house to those who knew her; and at a covered stall in the
market on a Saturday, to all comers. Here her ascendancy
again showed itself. She got a set of customers, chiefly of the
poorer sort, to whom she dictated wihat they wanted, hoow
mucA they wanted, and by what instalments she would be paid.
And in this latter part of the convention, such was the love
they bore her, and such the awe in which they stood of her,
they seldom failed. To chance customers there was something
of dignity in her manner, and if they gave unnecessary trouble,
a haughtiness.
In 1758, my father, established in business, thought he could
do better for his brother than his own slow motions, though
Counteracted by industry and frugality, could do at the stockingframe, and sent for him to Birmingham. It was now my aunt
Perkins fitted out her eldest brother for his launching into the
world, as she had before done her second. She furnished him
with necessaries, and made him out a bill which came to three
guineas. "Brother," said she, "this is what you owe me. If
you are ever able to pay me, I expect you will; if not, I forgive
you." She gave him half a crown and bid him farewell. It is
needless to say he paid her, as my father had done before.
This. circumstance my uncle told me to-day, June 1o,
while the tears ran down his cheeks, and his voice was interrupted by his emotion.
Her youngest brother, Samuel, only now remained to be
provided for, and he, who had relished a military life while a.
bachelor, grew weary of it when encumbered with a wife and
two children. In 1763 she bought his discharge, bore his expenses out of Scotland, supported his family, and set him up
in-his trade of whip-making. Thus did this extraordinary woman
throw the golden ball into the lap of each of all her three brothers.

1798,

Hutton Family.

3I

But the youngest had neither the spirit and activity of my
father, nor the patient endurance of labour of my uncle, nor the
frugality of either. He was a tax upon her bounty as long as
she lived.
During the last twenty years of her life she lived alone. She
would not be troubled with a servant, and no friend, or even
customer, durst call at certain hours. Indeed, her habit of body,
since her illness, would not always allow of interruption. One
of her nieces, Samuel's daughter, was let in at a regular hour
to do the necessary work of the house, go on errands, and was
dismissed when over.
She was naturally devout, and for the first fifty years of her
life was a rigid Calvinist, believing tzat religion right, though not
condemning those who differed. She then became a zealous
Sandemanian, a sect who form themselves on the example of
the Apostles, without considering that the brotherly love and
common right of property, which were necessary in an infant
Church, would be absurd in an extensive one. How my aunt
managed I know not. She was above deceit. No doubt they
(the brethren) were satisfied with what she distributed, and
what she withheld. I am sure of this, her conscience would
be her sole director; and her sense and fortune made her one
of the chief pillars of this little church. (Thus far C. Hutton.)
THOMAS (my brother),
the eldest son of William, born June

20,

1722,*

and, during

infancy, and his father's misfortunes in trade, was taken under
the protection of his uncle George, who behaved with the
greatest tenderness, and afterwards declared he valued him
more than me, from his name being that of his favourite brother.
He was put to school, but had no need of being taught, for
She seemed, by an intuitive instinct, to learn without. By the
time he was seven, he was master of the Jewish history, as
recorded by Moses and the succeeding rulers of the Jewish
empire. He then began the Latin tongue; but, alas! fortune
was unfavourable to letters, for at eight he was obliged to forsake every pursuit for bread, and was forced to attend the silkmill as an apprentice in 1730 for seven years, from five in the
* He was baptized at All Saints Church, Derby, where the following
entry, occurs in the Register: " 1722, June 30th, Bap. Thomas, son of
William Hutton,"

42

The

History of the

morning till seven at night. Thus a rising genius was cramped,
and every prospect of future life clouded.
I well remember, at this early period he was singularly
acquainted with the History of England, had imbibed a set of
political principles, and frequently, in conversation with the
masters of the mill, with the utmost modesty, in some cases
he set them right, and in others set them fast. He bore the
character of a boy of peace and knowledge, but never had
the art of putting himself forward. During eight years' attendance upon that place, remarkable for ignorance and vulgarity,
I do not recollect that he ever had the least difference with
any one.
In 1738 he quitted the mill, and was bound apprentice to his
uncle George Hutton, at Nottingham, a stocking-maker. These
seven years he served with the same steadiness and peace as
he had done the former seven at the mill. Slow in action,
constant at his work or his book, but clumsy at his play,
which he never courted, and in which he never shone, his life
was a scene of clock-work, and, like that, he had but one pace.
His servitude being expired on his birth-day, June 24, 1745,
at the age of twenty-three, for he was sixteen before he was
placed out as an apprentice (another instance of family neglect);
he commenced journeyman, and lived upon the frame, or rather
starved, during thirteen years. From the steady stroke he kept
up of rising, working, eating, resting, reading, this long interval
does not afford me one incident to record, except that he once
mounted a horse, when a bystander gave him a stroke which
caused the rider to quit the bridle, and hold by the pummel, at
the expense of a laugh. How difficult then is the historian's
task, to write upon nothing!
In 1758, I invited him to reside with me at Birmingham, in
quality of an assistant. He has now, July 1, 1798, his birthday, been my faithful servant forty years, my staunch friend
seventy-one, and my worthy brother seventy-five. Out of the
above seventy-five we have resided together sixty-seven.
Life in him is slow in all her motions. I do not recollect
that 'he was ever in a hurry, or performed one quick action.
In I772, at the age of fifty, an age when the generality decline
matrimony, he entered into it. But though his actions differed
from those of the world, they rarely differed from prudence.
He married Martha Parkes of Wordsley, in the county of
Stafford, who perfectly answered his wish, after a courtship of

Hutton Family.

11

twice seven years. By her he had two sons-George, who died
in infancy; the other, Thomas, who is extremely handsome
and extremely idle, will be reserved for the sixth generation.
This amiable but most uncommon character [my brother],
who never mixed with the world, nor ever had one enemy, has
much the size and- temper of his grandfather. Like him, I believe he would not have ventured to Northallerton for the same
estate. He never thought riches contributed to happiness;
therefore, though an economist, never wished them, but, like
a philosopher, weighed his own portion of content against
those in affluence, and found his scale preponderate.
Man's life is said to be chequered. His has been as even
as a fine-spun thread, and as long; an extended age without
novelty. The history of a day is the history of his life. It
may be said of himHe worked and eat, he read and slept, unknown to sorrowWill work and eat, will read and sleep, just so to-morrow.

No man perhaps ever lived seventy-six years in a narrower
circle. Daily connected with the world, yet that world lay at a
distance; a stranger among men. Still life is his dear delight.
Offering no injuries, he receives none, except what he forgives.
Inoffensive as an infant, he never said, or did harm, except by
mistake. A susceptible, but an even mind, a man of thought,
and possessed of most astonishing memory. Every incident,
date, and character of moment in the History of England during
the last seven hundred years he retains without trouble to himself. If I could believe there existed a human being without
pride, this is the man.
One of the singular traits of his character proceeded from his
own mouth. January 9 th, I799, he remarked to my son and
Samuel Hutton, a child of eleven, [grandson to my brother
Samuel,] while standing by the fire, " I have lived seventy-six
years, and though but a journeyman, was never asked for money;
neither has any man, perhaps, in my station accumulated a library
equal to mine-about 200 volumes, which cost about 401."

Memorandum.-May 2nd, I 80oo.-I have now the melancholy
task of recording the last event of this worthy brother-this
uncommon, but amiable friend. After enjoying a series of
health during seventy-six years, a decline gradually approached,
but his equanimity of mind never forsook him. His rational
and animal powers sunk together, till they fell even beneath those
D

34

The History of the

of an infant. No physical art was administered, because he
knew he was beyond its reach.
He daily attended the scenze of business, through an ardent
wish and long habit, though unable to act, till December 18th,
1799, but continued to sink under the further pressures of
decay, nineteen weeks, till yesterday, May st, i 8oo, when he
departed, at the age of seventy-eight, and after we had resided
together sixty-nine years.
His portrait, which is an admirable likeness, was drawn in

April, 1799, in the dress he wore, and may be said to have
been taken in the last hour in which his visage was his own,
uninjured by decay. [It is one of the illustrations of this
history of the Hutton family, in my own handwriting, in my
son's library.]
WILLIAM

(myself),

the second son of William,' born September 3 oth, 1723. As my
life differs materially from those of my recent ancestors, and
that in three respects, which has brought me upon the public
stage-that of rising to greater elevation ; conducting the Court
of Requests nineteen years ; and being an author the insertion
of my history in its proper place would, by its length, have
broken the line of descent. I shall omit it here, and place it at
the close of the work. Five feet six.
SAMUEL (the third son of William, my father)

was born February 2nd, 1733. That day at noon, Friday, my
mother remarked to me, "Perhaps you will have a little brother
by the time you return from the mill at night ;" which happened
accordingly. I was so pleased with the sight of the little redfaced dear, that I declared "he should never want money while
I had any;" but I have since thought I should have seen reason
to repent the promise. My mother died of a cold caught by
rinsing clothes in cold water during her lying-in, the day five
weeks after her delivery.
As she saw her end approaching, she cast a melancholy eye
upon her two babes in arms, Anne and Samuel, and wished,
with a sigh, "they might go before her, for they would be neglected" [if left]. Her remark, without the aid of prophecy,
was verified, for Anne was carried to the grave five months
after, through bad nursing, or rather no nursing; and Samuel,
the subject of my pen, who has now lived sixty-five years, has

Hutton Family.

35

seen many sorrows.
The parent's favourite is usually the
youngest, but the reverse was his unhappy lot.
My father had no violent love for any of his children, but the
least of all for the youngest, although deprived of the tenderness of a mother, which ought to have excited compassion. I
have reason to believe he never gave him a kiss during his
whole life, and I have the same inducement to believe he
never gave me one till I was twenty-three. Nor should I have
been favoured with that, though the favourite son, had he been
sober; but we all know liquor inspires the man.
Samuel was sent to nurse with Joseph and Sarah Knowles, at
Mackworth * (see "Happiness," in my seventh volume of
poems), and was treated with all the tenderness humanity
could wish-during three years, for two shillings a week.
My father courted Mary Sore (or Soar), a selfish widow with
whom we lodged, and as he thought two shillings too much, she,
the better to secure his affections, offered to board him for one.
Bargains between lovers are smoothly contracted, and my
brother Thomas and I were sent to Mackworth, to bring him
(Samuel) back. Nothing could surpass the bitterness of soul
in the afflicted nurse at parting with him. She saw the result,
offered to abate her price, though low, rather than part with the
child; but tears are vain when profit steps in. We brought
him from a state of perfect happiness to complete misery.
His father treated him with severity; the widow, with the worst
of food that could be bought or begged, with lodging beneath
that of a dog, and with punishment whenever she pleased.
His father's hand was in her power. This scene continued
seven years. If ever love subsists between a parent and child,
the parent must begin first, then the building rises from its
proper basis.
In 1743, at the age of ten, he was placed as an apprentice to
his uncle, George Hutton, a stocking-maker, at Nottingham.
Thus, through the indolence of my father, in not procuring suitable trades, all his three sons were brought up in one house
to that starving business..
It soon appeared that this dull occupation was very unsuitable to the active spirit of the child. He followed it three
years, during which period he ran away about ten times, and in
1746 for the last.
A village near Derby.

The poem on Happiness will be found later on.
D2

36

Tke History of the

The conduct of many fathers and masters in training up
children is very censurable. The child's temper is seldom
attended to, and the rozug hand is employed to force, instead
of the snmooth tongue to draw: hence we take ten times more
trouble to ruin than would save. When a teacher guides, he
treads upon sure ground, but when he drives, nineteen wrong
ways are taken for one right. Nay, as every human being wishes
to be master of his own actions, the best mode of education
is to guide without seeming to guide.
Samuel did not return till 1751. During these five years his
adventures and hardships were innumerable and astonishing,
such as would well become a circulating library, but are too
voluminous for admission here. He appeared an animal cut off
from the only world in which he was made to exist.
His first determination was never to return, but proceed
immediately to London, though without money or clothes,
except those upon his back, or any other resource. Such a
prospect must be terrible to a man who could reflect. It
indicates also that he must be completely sick of his situation.
His first stage was Loughborough, fourteen miles. But
here an obstacle arose. He must be obliged to pass over the
Trent bridge at Nottingham, which he had so often done in
running away, that John Taylor, the toll-man, knew him, and
was requested to secure and return him. To avoid this danger
he passed through Derby, thirty-three miles instead of fourteen.
At Market Harborough he engaged himself to a man who
kept a windmill, for what he chose to give, for necessity cannot
make terms. His employment was to fetch and carry batches
upon an old horse. The bags and the horse were sometimes
more than a child of thirteen could manage. Passing through
an open field the bags fell, the old horse kicked, and the lad
cried. Samuel could conduct neither; he therefore tied the
horse to a plough which lay near, retreated to a small distance,
pelted him with stones for misconduct, and ran away.
At a village one mile distant, he fell in with a farmer's son.
They agreed that he should have food and lodging in the
barn for his labour. This continued two days, and all went
well, when the farmer himself returned home. "Who have
you got here ?" "A very handy lad, whom I have engaged
for his food; he suits well for fetching and taking away the
horses, or afny necessary job." "Gd- his blood ! I'll have
no lads here," and instantly kicked him out. The son was

Hutton Family.

37

sorry, but took occasion to whisper, " My father is angry, but
you'd as good lie in the barn to-night."
As their business chiefly lay in the field, Samuel had observed
that the last who left the house locked the door, and hid the
key for the next comer, but not from his eye. The course
being clear, he took the key, opened the door, got to the cupboard, filled his belly and pockets-among other dainties
were the relics of a plum-pudding, which was paid the most
attention to-then locked the door, deposited the key in its
place, and marched off.
A fortnight more, with many distresses and many a hungry
stomach, but not one bed, brought him to London. The first
object of note was the scaffold erecting on Tower Hill for the
unfortunate Lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino, whose execution
he saw.
London afforded but little amusement, and during the two
days of his stay not the least food, though he slept in Leadenhall market. Here he was seized by the watch, who attempted
to carry him to prison; but finding he had been plentifully
involved in that matter which induces one man not to touch
Thus we find there are other
another, they let him go.
instruments besides bribery to cause a man to quit his duty.
in Essex, faint for want
He then wandered towards
of food. Upon the borders of Epping Forest he connected
himself with a young man who was a butcher and a bachelor,
and went by the name of Derby, the place of his nativity. The
whole family consisted of the master, Samuel, and a pig, all
house-mates; also a horse worth seven and sixpence, who
inhabited a hovel, and whose province it was to carry out meat
nearly akin to his own, and Samuel was to drive him. The
furniture consisted of a feather bed, with strict orders for
Samuel, should the master be out, never to sleep there, but
keep to his own, a wisp of straw.
The butcher returning late, as he often did, crept into bed in
the dark, and finding something stir, " G- d-- you, Derby,
what have you been doing at my bed ? Some-at's alive !" Upon
examination it appeared that the pig had burrowed through the
tick and nestled in the feathers, which, being moist, gave a
curious specimen of tar and feathering.
The butcher sent him to Rumford with a present to his
parents, who, in return, sent back a sucking pig in one end of
a wallet, and a calf's purtenance in the other. It was a short

38

The History of the

winter's day, night came on, and Samuel was lost in the forest.
Fearful lest the red deer should smell him out and hurt him, he
climbed a tree, hung his wallet over a branch, sat astride himself,
and dropped asleep. Waking, he heard a cock crow, and following
the sound, was led to a farm-house, where the people were loading
a waggon for the London market. He was allowed to retire
under cover till daylight. But while asleep by his wallet the
pig crept out, and, like himself, ran away: He durst not face
home, but retreated to a hovel, which he inhabited about a week,
subsisting upon the other end of the wallet.
The wallet empty, he wandered from village to village, fasting
as before, till necessity obliged him to rap at a knocker. A
servant came, when Samuel, with submission, asked relief. The
-servant, without a word, retreated, and brought him as much
broken victuals as would last a fortnight, with a good pair of
shoes. Samuel retreated to a solitary barn in a field, out of
which he never stirred for ten days. All the society he enjoyed
was a stray hen. Her he fed, and they became familiar.
While with the butcher he had contracted a friendship for an
infant, and could not rest without returning to see it, but was
afraid of his master, whose name was Matt. He applied to the
shoemaker of the village, who promised to serve him. Before
he left the shop, the master passed by. "Hallo! Mr. Matt,
what's become of your boy, Derby ?" " D- his blood, if I had
him here I'd flea him alive." "Why he's in the shop here, but
he's lost the pig, and eaten the purtenance." The affair was
made up.
The parish officers, fearing Samuel should gain a settlement,
or become troublesome, had several vestry meetings; their
determination was that he should be removed. Attempts were
made to seize him; but a little brook bounding the parish, on
the bank of which was Samuel's residence, whenever he had an
item of their design, he stepped over the brook till the danger
was over.
He now entered into the service of a farmer, and stayed nearly
a year. They liked each other, when unfortunately the master
was killed with his own waggon, which obliged him to leave.
Unwilling to quit Chigwell, we find him rising into an elevated state-that of serving the masons. Here, while climbing
towards the top of a ladder with a pail of putty upon his head,
he unfortunately fell to the bottom, and dashing the pail
against the house, spoiled the front. Samuel fell into a bed of

Hutton Family.

39

nettles, and though a fall of three storeys high, was unhurt.
The master-builder cursed him, and "would make him pay the
damage." Samuel was frightened, and limped to excite compassion, but as soon as out of sight ran away, as usual.
Having heard that his uncle was dead, he could not resist the
impulse of returning to Nottingham. This was in
after
an absence of five years. But his not having a farthing of
money was never any impediment to a journey. He subsisted
while travelling these 125 miles upon air, water, begging, and
a turnip field. He found the report true of his uncle's death,
and that his widow had married a young whit-tawer.
Samuel
was grown out of knowledge of his friends.
As some employment was requisite, it was agreed that he
should be bound apprentice to this whit-tawer, though at the
advanced age of eighteen; consequently, the wife would a second
time become his mistress. This continued a year and a half,
when the roving spirit of the lad, misconduct in the master,
quarrels and battles between the master and mistress, which are
apt to occur between a young husband and an old wife, caused
him to run away again.
He now worked, played, and wandered about the kingdom,
sometimes with money, but commonly without, and saw himself
advertised by his master in the Cambridge paper.
He fell in with a sailor, who, having no money, was willing to
share his; and advised him to go to sea. He took the advice,
went on board, but the officer refused to accept him.
Meeting, near Portsmouth, with another travelling sailor,
they sounded each other's finances, but each finding the other
without money, the sailor swore "We will have some to-day."
"How ?" "By robbing somebody."
"Then, good-bye to

1751,

you."

Samuel offered himself to several recruiting parties, but was
too short. He thought it hard to be refused the service both
by sea and land. In wandering and sauntering about for i oo00
miles more, he grew half an inch, when a sergeant of the 12th
Foot ventured to take him, as he seemed a growing lad; the
regiment lying so far off as Scotland, and he not likely to send
recruits for some time.
As the sergeant knew he had been famished, he requested the
landlady where he was quartered to feed him well, that he might
* Whipmaker and saddler.

40

T- e History of the

thrive. She, during sixteen weeks, fed him three times a day
with beef and cabbage. During this time he grew an inch.
We have now initiated him among the military, where he continued twelve years, which was the only situation in his whole
life suited to his taste. He quickly grew into a corporal of the
grenadier company.
Travelling with a party, who were to conduct some deserters
to London, the sergeant-major had given him on Wednesday
imorning his usual pay of eighteen-pence, and his billet upon
the Fountain, near Vauxhall. But before the company parted,
they entered a public-house and spent all their money.
He and his comrade then went to their quarters, and asked
the landlady for dinner. She, not accustomed to soldiers,
"What you
"What do you choose to have, gentlemen?"
please." She brought a mutton chop. Being without money,
it was agreed after dinner that Samuel should go to bed, and
the comrade to his friends at Whitechapel to borrow some. His
comrade returned, but without succeeding, and awoke him.
" Have you been to Whitechapel ?" "Yes, two days ago," for
it was now Friday, at noon, and Samuel had, to their surprise,
continued his nap near forty-eight hours. Hunger was pressing.
They sneaked down stairs and asked for something to eat. The
landlady, as before, "What do you please to have, gentlemen ?"
"A little bread and cheese will do."
After this humble meal they went in quest of the sergeantmajor for more money. In their peregrinations they met with
one of their party upon the same errand, and the triumvirate
trudged on they knew not whither. In their wanderings Samuel
had the good fortune, privately, to pick up a shilling in the
Strand. He secretly carried it two hours between his fingers
and thumb, lest the third man should suspect the prize and
He wanted to shake him off, but could not.
claim his third.
Not finding the sergeant the two returned home, went to bed
in great joy, and next morning boldly ordered breakfast.
"What have we to pay ?" "Two and eight-pence." " Perhaps
you are not acquainted with the treatment of soldiers; the Act
Samuel pulled out his lucky
says' three meals for four
shilling. We have had six meals, which is eightpence. Give
me a groat." "No. I will sooner have nothing." He again
made the tender, which was again refused, and they marched
off. "Here, let's see your shilling, and I'll give you a groat."
"No. We made the offer, and so good-bye."

pence.'"

fHulton Family.

41

Being quartered at Norwich, the mistress ordered the maid
to' show him his bed-room, it being the first night. "Me light
a soldier to bed! No, indeed." But in less than a fortnight
she chose to fall in love with him, then followed him to his bed
and solicited a husband. He told her it would require some
money to be asked in the church, which she gave him, and
which he and his comrade spent. "When shall we be asked
up ?" " On such a day. It will require so much more money
to be married." This she also gave him, which was disposed
of as before.
She began to think the time long. He told her at length
"he never designed to marry her. What must he do with a
wife? She was let off very cheap. He had cost her but a
trifle;" and added, "Never trust a soldier." He afterwards met
her in the street of a very distant town. "Heigho ! Molly,
how came you here?" " I'm married to a soldier, but no
thanks to you." He saw her again upon a baggage-waggon.
The regiment was ordered to Germany under Prince
Ferdinand, to prosecute the war of '56. Here he met with his
master, the whit-tawer, who, tired of his old wife, served as a
dragoon, and there lost his life.
The grenadiers of the foot regiments were selected from the
battalions, and formed a corps of themselves, which, with other
detached parties, composed the van of the army.
About 400 grenadiers were sent in the night to surprise a party
of the French at Zeremburg, with orders to give no quarter.
The place was instantly in confusion. The English were obliged
to use despatch, being within two miles of the French. A horseman darted through a gap upon Samuel, with his sword elevated, in the act of striking. At that instant Samuel presented
his piece and shot him dead. He searched his pockets-an
operation never omitted by a conqueror and found a purse with
a very small sum. The purse afterwards came to Birmingham,
and was lost at the riots.
In a skirmish with a French grenadier he observed his antagonist peeping through a bush, pointing his piece at Samuel.
Knowing that Samuel's fire was reserved, and that death was
inevitable, he threw down his piece, ran to Samuel, only four or
five yards distant, caught him.in his arms, kissed him, and rejoiced at the honour of having been taken by a brother
grenadier.
At Redburg, he, with many others, was taken by the Aus-

42

The History of te

trians, fell sick, and was in their hospital during the battle of
Minden.
The French made a grand attack. Our grenadiers were
marching three deep up a hill, the enemy's fire in their teeth.
Samuel was in the rear rank. The front man, directly before
him, was shot dead. The centre man, in a moment arriving atthe spot, took up the dead man's knapsack, and at that instant
was shot himself. Samuel in three seconds reached the same
spot and expected the same fate.
During Samuel's stay upon the Continent, he married the
widow of a soldier who had fallen in battle. She having had no
children, he comforted himself with the idea of her having none
by him, for he considered them the worst baggage a soldier
could carry. But she quickly produced him two .sons and two
daughters, which rank in the sixth generation. In
he
quitted the service and followed his own trade of whip-making,
but was never able to graft the tradesman upon the soldier.
Family consultations were now held relative to his future mode
of life. Whip-making was adopted, and followed in a desultory
style during some years; but it appeared the soldier had spoiled
the tradesman, for now he found no way but that of retreating.
When commercial talents have long lain dormant, it is difficult
to revive them, and more difficult to create what never existed.
I cannot forbear considering that man's case as most unhappy
who is able to labour, unwilling, yet must subsist by labour.

1763

We have now drawn the line nearly through five descents ot
the Hutton family, all the members of which are departed, except Thomas, William, and Samuel, the sons of William. These
generations were continued by a single stem. Only one in an
age left descendants. But now the family divides itself into
three branches, as all the three sons have issue.-July 2, 1798.
Memorandum.-April 18th, T8o i. I have now to record the
termination of existence of this, my youngest brother, who died
the 14 th instant, at the age of sixty-eight, after an indisposition
of ten days. Worn out, after many scenes of adversity, and
SHer name was Catherine Keith, and ,he was married to Samuel
Hutton in 1760.

Hutton Family.

43

only one of prosperity, which he did not know how to improve,
that of a legacy of 5oo00.bequeathed by his sister. Given to
ramble in early life, and spending his prime in the army, rendered himn unfit for the acquirement of a livelihood. Sensible
and peaceable, he was beloved by all his acquaintance.
Of nine children [proceeding from William (my father)] who
compose the fifth generation, four died in infancy, and Catherine, Thomas, William (myself), and Samuel continued fiftythree years after, when Catherine was called away. Fourteen
years after, Thomas departed; and the next year, Samuel. So
that of the nine which proceeded from William (my father), I
am the only survivor. Catherine and Thomas were generous
economists, I more frugal; Samuel knew but little how to get,
and less how to save. His portrait [in the great folio manuscript] is an excellent likeness.
THE SIXTH GENERATION,
From 1756.
The issue of Thomas, the first son of William (my father)
was Thomas, born June 6th, 1776, an only son, a spoiled child,
master of others before he was master of himself. From his
birth to the age of seven he did as he list, from that to fourteen
as he pleased, and from fourteen to twenty-one he left undone
those things which he ought to have done, and there is no
health in him.
A few men may be found as opinionated, fewer as handsome,
but none more idle. Youth ought to comfort age; but to what
part of filial duty can it belong which teaches a man to kill by
inches a decrepit father who can scarcely crawl a mile, and
a worthy mother worn to a skeleton by hard labour? This
beautiful young man, alias gentleman, stands at the head of the
sixth generation.-July 2nd, 1798.
A play was advertised January 26th, i8or, to be performed at
the theatre in Birmingham, by some of the inhabitants, for the
benefit of the Souz charity. The comedy of the Lovers' Vows
was the choice of the company. Thomas Hutton performed
the character of "Anhalt," in which he acquitted himself to
admiration-the best figure, the handsomest man, and said to
have been the best performer upon the stage. There was a
strange hue-and-cry after the ladies' hearts. The entertainment

The History of hke

44

was The Ghost. "Captain Constant" was his part. The house
overflowed. Elated with success, the performers were requested,
February 23rd, to act again, for the benefit of the Hospital,and
chose the Curefor the ileart-ache. "Charles Standley" was the lot
of T. Hutton. The entertainment, All the Worla's a Stage,
in which "Harry Stukely" fell to his share. These also passed
off with great applause from the house, and produced 254., but
not the least emolument was appropriated to themselves.
March 22, I8oI.

Nov. 26, 80o8.-This day the above Thomas Hutton finished
his earthly career, at the age of thirty-two. He had a handsome
person, a modest deportment, an engaging manner, and an
excellent understanding, but he was nursed into more than the
inactivity of the Hutton family. Apprenticed to one of the
manufactures of Birmingham, he wanted application to pursue
his trade. With a taste for the stage, and possessing the
requisites to ensure theatrical success, he wanted resolution to
become an actor. He lived with his parents a life of idleness,
dissipating their fortune, and preying upon their constitutions,
till they both sunk under the burthen ; and the money, which
was considerable, owing to a legacy from my sister, was nearly
consumed. A dram-bottle finished himself. Had he possessed
a moderate share of prudence, the fortune of the family would
have been his.
The issue of WILLIAM (myself).

(The second son of William.)
I perceive this work, contrary to expectation, will probably
extend to two volumes in folio. But of all its parts I am now
entering upon the most difficult-the delineation of my children.
Faithfulness ought to be the guide of the historian, but prejudice will be suspected. I confess they are my treasure, my
happiness. I have ardently wished I might not be separated
from them. I have hitherto had my wish. The world would
only exhibit a barren desert without them. That I may not
split upon the rock before me, I shall, as far as able, confine
myself to facts.
CATHERINE,

'the daughter of the second William (myself), was born February
IIth, 1756, on Wednesday, a quarter before five in the evening.
She came into the world before her time, and perhaps was the
smallest human being ever seen. So very diminutive, that even

Hi lton Family.

45

a pregnancy in her mother was scarcely discernible. Curiosity
led me, when a month old, to shut her up for a moment in the
small drawer of a bureau, with all her accoutrements; nay, I
should have put her in my pocket [and shut the lid over her]
but through fear of injury.
This dear little animal had been two days in the world before
I took the least notice of her. So intent upon the mother,
whom I knew and loved, I disregarded the daughter, who was a
stranger. Though she afterwards grew to a proper size, yet she
always carried a delicate frame.
It soon appeared that what was wanting in body was given
in vivacity. Her spirit was so animated, that the body seemed
to be no clog. An astonishing capacity opened, which might
be said to take in knowledge without instruction. She was soon
able to teach her teachers. I never knew that she was told
anything twice. [One instance ariong many was, that she never
was taught to read. She went to a writing school at nine, where
her fame had gone before her; for when she first stood up with
the History of England in her hand, Mr. Baker, the master, said,
"Now let us hear a Bishop read."]
In temper the most amiable. She is capable of saying anything but an ill-natured one, nor ever by word or act made an
enemy. There is an old-fashioned saying, " None can have
everybody's good word." She has nobody's bad one. Her
wish is to do all the good she can, and she frequently gratifies
that wish. Her domestic economy is equal to her other qualities.
Her filial affection was exemplified in willingly sacrificing her
health in nursing a sick mother seventeen years [the last five
of which she was her constant nurse.] Whatever lies within
the bounds of female reach, she ventures to undertake, and
whatever she undertakes, succeeds.
Had Swift known her he might have saidFair ladies, I hold up the glass
Which shews perfection in a lass.
Though she's no beauty
the skin,
You'll find it, if you look within.
As many sorts, and sterling too,
As coins that pass from me or you.
Of knowledge she's so great a store,
A seraph has but little more;
Such excellencies strewed about,
Would deck a dozen ladies out;
Which, if judiciously were hurled,
Would mend as well as make a world.

on

The History of Ike

46

[I cannot refrain from inserting in this place a copy of her
Dedication of" The Miser Married," a novel published by her
in
Though its insertion here will have the appearance
of paternal vanity, I give it as a proof of filial affection.

1813.

" DEDICATION.

TO MY FATHER.
My beloved and respected Fatelr,
To you, from whom I inherit the faculties which have enabled
me to compose a book, to whose industry I am indebted for the
means of leisure, and by whose kindness I am permitted to
enjoy it, do I dedicate that book as I have dedicated my life.
Of your talents, which have broken through the fetters of
ignorance, I will say nothing. They are before the world, and
the world has judged favourably of them. Of your conduct, I
may be allowed to say that its tenor is independence for yourself, and unlimited indulgence to all around you. I trust mine
has proved that I am not insensible of the blessing.
To you it is unnecessary, but in this place it is proper to
add that
I am, your most grateful and affectionate daughter,
CATHERINE

HUTTON."]

THOMAS

(Son of the second William, myself).
Born February 7th, 1757, at four in the morning. A dreadful
tumour in the right breast of his mother during pregnancy,
which threatened a cancer, broke at his birth, and drawing that
nourishment necessary for the child, he dwindled, became
rickety, and his life seemed in danger. This debility, I apprehend, injured his future growth.
My affections were engrossed by the dear little Catherine,
who played about me like a puppet. It was some time before
I could take him into favour. The first emotion of the heart
was pity, the sister of love, and this was soon followed by all
the endearments of a father. No care was wanting to set him
on his feet. As soon as this can be done a child becomes a
better nurse to himself than all the world can be to him. We

Hufton Famil,.

47

fihd him always in action, which soon strengthens his legs,
btings them into form, reduces his bulky wrists, sets them a
growing, and forms the man.
The best nurse is that who
studies nature.
Bathing, sliding, schooling, romping, attended with health,
carried him to the age of eleven, when his employments were
mixed with business, which gives a relish to play. He was
soon master of figures. He kept his father's accompt-books
till they and the trade, in 1793, became his own.
Rising towards man's estate, he was a book fancier, then a
purchaser, and then a library was fitted up with two most superb
bookcases, rich as could be made, which is now, July 4th, 1798,
filled with the best editions of the most valuable authors that
ever wrote, and in the most expensive bindings that can be
made. Many of the books are very scarce. The whole value
about 1400. [His library is now such as few men in his station
ever possessed. His collection of prints is no less remarkable,
and his bookcases are of a piece with what they inclose.] Thus,
of a family bookishly inclined, he surpasses all. None of his
predecessors had the spirit, taste, or means to accomplish either.
No day passes without reading, while the necessary duties are
not infringed by the book.
He married, September the 5th,
Mary Reynolds, of
Shiffnall, in the county of Salop [by whom he has no issue].
We are told that a candle ought not to be hid under a
bushel. [My son has not attended to this precept.] Excellent
in principle ; but a little less acrimony, and a little more milk
in his constitution, would make him [sound in understanding,
rapid in execution] a shining character. His internal powers
are well adapted to please, when not forbidden. If the scum
was removed we should come to the honey.
[I think the supineness of the Hutton family has not descended to my children.]*

1793,

THE CHILDREN OF SAMUEL, my youngest

brother (the third

son of William).
Samuel, as before observed, married in Germany a widow,
whose husband had fallen in battle but had no issue. Samuel
was pleased with the prospect of not being encumbered with a
* This Thomas Hutton died, without issue, July x8th, 1835,

48

The History of the

-military family. But our well-laid schemes are often frustrated.
She quickly brought him four children, recruits ill adapted to
a soldier's life. WILLIAM died an infant.
THOMAS

,was

born in camp, July 29th, 1761 [at Earph, in Germany],
-and was upon the verge of falling, by national rancour, soon
after his birth, for while on his mother's knee by the fire in the
tent a cannon ball flew so near the child as to carry him
several yards by its force.
He was brought up a joiner in Nottingham, which occupation he now pursues, is full of vivacity, and which is better,
good nature and humanity. While he passes through life he
enjoys it. Supports the characters of a kind son, husband,*
and father, and that which is better, an honest man [is
respected by all who know him, and carries that rotundity of
figure which betokens a plentiful table and a mind at ease].
His talent at cutting and uniting timber may be seen in the
magnificent bookcases of his fabrication in my son's library,
value 701. each.

He is five feet ten.
CATHERINE,

the eldest daughter of Samuel, born February 4 th, i764, at
Edinburgh. Married to Joseph Cox. A sensible woman, a
prudent wife, but not overcharged with good nature, and brings
forth children plentifully.
ANNE,

the second daughter of Samuel, was born February 9 th, 1796
[at Nottingham]. Married to Francis Fox. Anne is open and
undesigning.
These three children, Thomas, Catherine, and Anne, had
each a fortune of 501. left by their aunt Perkins. Each married
a few months after her death, in 1786, and in eleven years produced, by their joint endeavours, twenty-two children.
Thus we have gone through the sixth generation, consisting
of three males, all named Thomas, and three females, two of
them Catherine.
-This Thomas Hutton married, in 1786, Christian Peet, of Derby, by
whom he had issue two sons and five daughters.

HItIozi Family.

49

THE SEVENTH GENERATION.
Consisting solely of the descendants of the children of Samuel
(my youngest brother).
Though the present generation are numerous, their history
will be short. I must give up anecdote and character, for, as
infants, they produce neither. I can only record names and
dates. I must leave their various histories to be recorded by
my successor to the pen.
The issue of THOMAS, the son of Samuel.

Samuel, born April 4th, 1787.
Catherine, ,, April 14 th, 1788.
Mary,
,, June 23rd, 1791.
Ann,
Martha,
Harriot,

,,
,,
,,

February 3rd, 1793.
June i6th, 1795.
July 14th, 1797.

SAMUEL, the son of Thomas,

born as above. At the age of eleven he quitted Nottingham
for Birmingham, December 2 9 th, 1798, with the view of being
assistant to my son, trained to his business, and inheriting
our fortune, which is considerable, and probably will increase.
to be worthy of
He appears, at this day, May 3rd,
both. His behaviour, though a child, is that of a prudent man,
excellent beyond any instance I have met with, and promises a
wealthy and amiable character.

1799,

The issue of CATHERINE COX, the eldest daughter of
Samuel Hutton.
Ann,

John,
William,
Henry,
Alfred,

born March 7th,
,,
,,
,,
,,

1787.

October 25th, 1789.
August 24th, 1790.
March 1 5 th,
March, 1797.

1795-

50

Te .Hislory of the

'The issue

Famrzly.

H-ud/o

of ANN FOx, the youngest dagtte of Samuel
Huitton.
Samuel,

Catherine,
Ann,

Elizabeth,
_1lhom1s,

Hannah,

Frances,

1787.

born January 8th,
,,
March 31st, 17 88.
,,
December 26th,

1 790.

January. 17 93.

,,

January 23rd, 1;9

,,December,
,,September,

1795.

17 97.

THE FAMILY OF MRS. HUTTON.

To the foregoing highly interesting " History of the Hutton
Family," the author's talented daughter wrote, "And why not
my mother's family ?" And why not, indeed ! It is a matter of
surprise that William Hutton, with so ready a pen, so clear an
understanding, and such a love for recording all kinds of minute
particulars regarding his own family, should have failed to write
that of his beloved wife. It is well that his daughter has supplied the omission, as the narrative she has penned is full of
interest, and forms a charming addition to her father's history.
The following is her narrative, which I have the gratification of
now first making public:AND WHY NOT MY MOTHER'S FAMILY?
The first person of this family whom I ever heard tell of was
Cock, my great-great-grandfather. He might have had a
baptismal name; but I do not remember that I ever heard it.
This great-great-grandfather flourished about the middle of the
seventeenth century, and passed his days at Wymeswould, a
village in Nottinghamshire,* where he exercised the calling of
a flax-dresser, and kept a shop. When he died he left his shopbook to Patrick, his son, as his inheritance.
There is something mysterious here, for with the contents of
this shop-book Patrick Cock, my great-grandfather, purchased
sixty acres of rich land, with a farm-house and all outbuildings,
in the parish of Aston-upon-Trent, in Derbyshire. It is difficult
to imagine that the shop-book of a village flax-dresser and shopkeeper could accomplish this; but the fact cannot be doubted,
as I have frequently heard it from my grandmother, the daughterin-law of Patrick, who resided many years with him. This book,
--

SHere.Miss Hutton is in error.
from Loughborough.

Wymeswold is in Leicestershire, not far
E2

52

The Family of

however, might contain an account of his father's whole property.
My great-grandfather now removed to his newly-purchased
estate at Aston, bringing with him his wife, and John, his only
son, then a boy about three years of age. He also brought
with him his father's occupations of flax-dresser and shopkeeping, and added to them the cultivation of his farm. This
was about the close of the seventeenth century.
,John Cock, the boy, grew to be a man, and in I 722 he married
Sarah Grace, the daughter of a respectable and pious farmer at
Markeaton, near Derby, but originally of Allestree. John's
wife made a part of his father's family. Here she had an
arduous task to perform; for this family consisted of Patrick,
his wife, and their grown-up daughters ; but my grandmother's
discretion, good temper, and humility rendered the task easy.
She assisted in all things where assistance could be given, and
she directed in nothing, and her father and mother-in-law
declared that they loved her better than their own children.
The three daughters of Patrick Cock married off one after
another, and the old yeoman, making over the farm to his son,
and leaving his wife to the care of his daughter-in-law, went to
He took this step from his inclination
reside at Nottingham.
to become a quaker; but I believe he did not actually join the
society; for my grandmother could not bear the thought of his
dying among strangers, and she rode to Nottingham to endeavour
to prevail upon him to come back. She succeeded, and he
returned with her; but he did not long survive. This must
have been within twelve years of the marriage of his son; for in
a list of the freeholders of the county of Derby, made in 1735,
and now in the possession of my brother, there is the name of
John Cock, Aston-upon-Trent. My great-grandmother survived
her husband some years. My mother well remembered her,
and has described her to me as a little neat old woman, walking
with a crutch stick, given her by the squire, and cultivating
her flowers kneeling on a cushion. Well both grandmother
and grandchild knew that sugar-candy lay in the shop. After
the death of her mother-in-law, my grandmother took her own
mother, now a widow, into the family, where she remained until
she also was laid in the family vault in Aston church. My grandfather and grandmother lived happily together, and added three
sons and three daughters to the population of the world; but as
he was returning from one of his fields, seated on a waggon-load
of hay, by some accident he was thrown off, and fell with his head

Mrs. H11oz.

53

against a stone. By this misfortune he was rendered incapable
of managing his farm, and John, his eldest son, being too young
to undertake it, it fell to the lot of my grandmother, and she,
who never yet had had a hand in out-door business, conducted
it in such a manner that the loss of the master was not felt.
In 1759, when I was three years old, I saw my grandfather at
Aston. He was sitting in the chimney-corner, in a heavy oaken
chair, with a staff thrust through the arms to prevent him from
falling out, and my grandmother was feeding him with a spoon.
My aunt Betty wanted me to kiss him, drivelling as he was, but
I recoiled from him with horror. I see him now. He died
soon after, at about sixty-two years of age. In his youth he had
been the beau of the village, had been to London, and had
worn a muslin cravat with embroidered ends.
The death of my grandfather was the signal for John, his
eldest son, the heir of his house and land, to marry; and his
choice had fallen on Mary Hickinbotham, of Castle Donington,
a neighbouring village. It was now that my grandmother
committed, as I believe, the only imprudent action of her life.
Each of the five youngest children had a portion of 5o01., but
she had not only a jointure on the land, but was left in joint
possession of it with her son during her life. These she gave
up on his marriage, reserving only a pittance of 81. a year; thus
making herself dependent on her children. My grandmother's
piety, charity, and forbearance were invincible; lively and pert
young girl as I was, I once said to her, "Grandmother, your
good word is not worth having, you give it to everybody."
A better woman in every relation of life never existed. Her
conduct as a wife had been such that Mr. Rolleston, the rector
of the parish, said, "If ever woman had fully discharged her
marriage vow, it was Sarah Cock." She was a careful, yet liberal,
housekeeper, and well skilled in cookery, pastry, and confectionery. I have heard of a pie she raised in the form of a
goose, trussed for the spit; the real goose was boned, a duck
was boned and laid within it, a fowl was boned and laid within
the duck, a boned partridge within the fowl, and a boned
pigeon within the partridge. The whole havi.,g been properly
seasoned, the interstices were filled with rich gravy, and I have
had pieces of writing-paper, cut in various figures throughout,
that were the patterns by which she made her florendines.
The literary occupations of my grandmother were few; she read
the Bible, and sometimes, though very rarely, wrote a letter.

The Family of

-54

I imagine that my grandmother was considered as an intruder
in the house where she had so well presided; for she soon
-quitted it after the marriage of her son, and lived by turns with
her other children, but chiefly with my mother, her best and
favourite daughter. John Cock, my uncle, was good-humoured,
and easily managed, first by his wife and afterwards by his
daughter. He was open-hearted and hospitable. This latter
virtue was sufficiently tried, for his house-the familyhouse-was
open to the numerous clan of brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces,
and cousins, the Huttons among the rest. Some of the
pleasantest days of my childhood were spent at Aston, where I
had the run of my uncle's orchard, rick-yard, and barn, and
where cheesecakes and pound cakes ran about the house; and
curds and cream, and honey drink posset from the cow, stood
on the table. My worthy uncle had one failing : it was the one
his father had had before him, the taking a drop of ale too often;
not of his own good honest ale, but that of the village publichouse.
He never was intoxicated, but when he had taken his
drop he talked too much. He gave up the flax-dressing, but
retained the shop, and he increased his farm by renting some
adjoining lands. My uncle's wife was subject to fits of gloom,
at which times she would sit with her elbows on her knees and
her head on her hands; and after having complained heavily of
head-ache, she would be silent. It was observable, however, that
these fits never returned after John Cock, her eldest son, had
been at school at :Birmingham for a year, and during that time
had been a visitor at my father's house.
In
a very unexpected event took place in my uncle's
family-the sudden death of his wife. My grandmother, then
in her seventy-fifth year, was residing with us, and here she
would have lived and died had she not thought it her duty to
go to her son. She was hale and hearty. There were four
young children, and she was to be the prop and stay of his
household. But my uncle had an upper maid, who was younger
and more active, and well qualified to be his housekeeper, so my
grandmother was "good for nothing;" and my mother having
taken Sarah, his eldest daughter, for a year when she was ten
years old, and initiated her into the mysteries of "good housekeeping and care," while I taught her reading, writing, and plain
sewing, she was early found capable of managing her father's
house, and then my grandmother was "worse than nothing."
Then my grandmother became infirm, helpless, could neither

1772,

Mrs. Hutton.

55

dress nor undress herself, nor walk out of the parlour, which
was her bedroom, without assistance. And she was "very
troublesome." She called, Martha! Martha !(the upper maid)
incessantly when she wanted to rise in the morning. But
Martha was busy and did not come, and her mistress was busy
and did not care. My mother earnestly wished to have her
mother with her, but she could not be removed. In 1784., at
the age of eighty-seven, my grandmother had the happiness to
die.
About 1792 or 3, John Cock, my uncle's eldest son,
determined to marry, and Elizabeth Sutton, the granddaughter
of an Aston family of the name of Prior, was to be the bride.
I believe he was drawn in to marry her without having any
great affection for her. The Priors used to throw the young
people together, and set the girl on his knee, and at last they
/ooked him. The Priors were a long-headed people, and had
an eye to our family estate. The estate was entailed; but my
uncle--good, easy man-was soon persuaded to cut off the
entail, and Thomas, his younger son, who was a managing clerk
in a warehouse in Birmingham (having first lost the 500. given
him by his father in managing for himself), was sent for to join
in the exploit. He came. He had only to write his namenothing could be more easy-and he gave away his right of
inheritance, without knowing what he was doing.
From what I have said of the Cocks, it seems they were a
good-tempered, well-meaning race, not overburthened with
wisdom. John Cock, my cousin, purchased lands joining the
family estate with the five hundred whlich had been the portion of his wife. He rode a good horse, and had the appeardid not neglect the
ance of a gentleman farmer, but
cultivation of his land. He made an excellent husband, ana
was governed by his wife, as his father had been before him.
He liked ale, as his father and grandfather had done; and like
them he drank ratiher too much. It has been asserted that he
drank what none of his ancestors ever tasted-gin. However
this might be, he did not reach old age. In 1797, my father
and I were at Aston for one night. There was no child. My
cousin, John Cock, received us cordially; his wife received
us heavily. And Aston was changed. 'ihe shop had been
emptied, and was shut up. The spacious room, emphatically
called the House, had a closed grate instead of the open one,
which threw warmth and comfort all around. The great oaken
chair of my forefathers had been removed into the kitchen. Their

ihe

56

The

Family of

oaken long settle--three chairs in one-was invisible. The
bright dresser, with its various rows of shining pewter, from the
dish that held the sirloin at Christmas to the plates from which
it was eaten, had vanished. The massive oaken table on
which the feast had been placed, and which was so heavy that
it was never removed from its station under one of the windows,
except at this season and the village wake, had found means
to be carried to some undiscovered country. Even the wellremembered clock (for I once broke the glass with throwing
my ball) had gone away. In my grandmother's parlour the
twelve grim Apostles had fled before modern daubs of red and
green and yellow. But the most deplorable change was that
which had taken place with respect to my uncle, and it grieved
my heart to see it. Whether he had actually given up the
possession of his patrimony to his son I know not; but he
appeared to be living on it on sufferance, and unable to give
us his customary welcome. I suspect that the home of his
choice was the kitchen fireside, and that he had learned to eat
his dinner from an earthenware plate instead of a trencher.
That he could have made complaints of his altered situation I
am sure. However, he made none to us. One morning, in
1804, at the age of four score, my uncle was found half out of
bed and quite dead. John Cock, my cousin, left one son, the
fourth in lineal succession of that name. His mother had
him educated at a boarding-school, and sent him to Edinburgh
to study medicine, and she quitted Aston. I believe he did
not live to take his degree as a physician; and his mother did
not live long after. The family estate was on sale, and the
lawyers who had to transact the business offered it to my
brother for six thousand guineas.
My brother bid 6ooo0001. ;
but when it was reported to Mrs. Cock, she declared that
neither he nor any of the Huttons should have it at any price. It
was sold to Lord Harrington for 5ooo., with the reservation
of what was known by the name of the Homestead. This,
with all the buildings, garden, orchard, &c., included 13 acres
of land. And this was bequeathed (whether by mother or son
I know not, but I believe by the latter) to Thomas Cock, of
Birmingham, my uncle's younger son, the gentleman who so
heroically cut himself off from the inheritance of the whole.
He is since dead, and has left this remnant of his patrimony
jointly to his son and daughter, Thomas and Frances Cock, in
whose possession it still remains. Thomas Cock is an en-

Mirs. Huiton.

57

graver, and he and his sister-both unmarried-live quietly
and respectably together in Birmingham. The Homestead
brings them in 401. a year; his occupation adds something to
the income ; and their father's savings were considerable.
They are both on the wrong side of forty, and do not seem
disposed to make any change whatever. With them will
probably end the direct line of the Cocks. Of collateral
branches, there are many; but which of them, or whether any,
will be the owner of the great-great-grandfather's Homestead is
wholly unknown to me. The 5oool., for which the principal
part of the estate was sold, was given to the mother's familythe Suttons.
In my way into Nottinghamshire, two years ago, I crossed
the vale of the Trent, between Castle Donington and Sawley.
Aston was about two miles on my left. I saw the church in
which the dust of my ancestors reposed; but no straining of
my eyes could discover the thatched roof which had sheltered
them while living. I cannot describe my feelings !
But I must say something of n)y mother, and I never felt so
much at a loss. My father has sufficiently declared her worth
and his affection, but he has spoken only in general terms.
The reason was, he did not know her. She was thoroughly
known only by me; and not even by me until the last five
years of her life.
My mother was below the middle size, but delicately and
perfectly well made. Her face was not beautiful, but it was
pleasing. Considering her Derbyshire farmhouse extraction
and education, her appearance and manners were elegant.
She was fond of dress, and her taste was good and correct.
She never read, and seldom wrote. At seven years of age, 1
was her amanuensis ; but there is a letter of hers extant, which
proves that she was capable of writing sufficiently well.
In order, neatness, and regularity my mother surpassed all
the women I have ever known. None of her movements were
quick, but they were all unerring. Hers were the fair and softly
that go far in a day. My mother never proclaimed herself.
I never heard her say, " I have done this," or, " I shall do that."
All was done, well done, and in proper time, and nothing was
said about it; and as nothing was said, themerit passed unobserved. She was devoted to her husband, and would at any
time have sacrificed her life for him; yet I never saw her display the least fondness for him, or heard her utter one endearing

58

The Family of Mrs. Huttion.

word to him. No mother could love her children better than
she\ did; yet I never saw her kiss any one of them.
My mother had one failing. It was impossible that a woman
of her order and neatness-the mother of children, and the
mistress of servants-should not have occasion to give reproof;
and on such occasions she felt and said too much. Unfortunately, while her many virtues and strong affections were
hidden within her own bosom, or partially seen in her actions,
her single failing was obvious to all concerned.
During five years of great suffering and total helplessness,
my mother never uttered one complaint, or forgot what was
due to any one of her family. She died with her hand resting
on mine, as I knelt before her; and I was near dying in consequence of her loss. It made my father grow pale and thin.
CATHERINE HUTTON.
Oct. 31st, 1841.

ADDITIONAL NOTES ON THE
FAMILY OF HUTTON.
IN addition to what has been written by William Hutton,
and now reprinted, and the particulars which I have already
given in the foot-notes, I am now enabled to draw up the
following notes.
At his death, William Hutton, the historian, left, as will have
been seen, one son and one daughter. These were Thomas
Hutton, who succeeded him in his business and estates, and
Catherine Hutton, the accomplished authoress.
Thomas
Hutton dying without issue in 1845, and his sister, Catherine,
who was never married, dying in the following year, the
succession to the estates, &c., passed to the descendant of the
historian's brother, Samuel. It will be well, therefore, here to
add some particulars relative to this later branch of the family.
Of the strange and eventful career of Samuel Hutton a
narrative, in his brother William's own words, has already been
given in a former page.* To this I am now fortunate enough to
be able to add the following from the pen of Catherine Hutton,
which has been printed in the Refiquary. Many of the circumstances are the same as already related, but they are placed by
Miss Hutton in such a graphic and pleasant light, and are told
so nearly in the words of the sufferer himself, that it would be
wrong not to give the narrative entire. It is entitledTIE LIFE OF AN OLD) SOLDIER.

I was born in Derby, in the year 1733. My mother died
soon after my birth; my father was a man of a handsome
person, a commanding manner, exceeding gccd sense, and
exceeding bad conduct.
He wrote and spoke well; he was
the oracle and dictator of his, and the house, and unmindful of
his family. The effects of my mother's death were soon visible.
SSee page 34.

6o

Addiional Notes on

Though unable to control her husband, it appeared that he
had, on her account, kept within certain bounds. He now
gave up housekeeping, sold his furniture, and swallowed in the
form of ale the money it produced.
I have heard that he was
never sober while any part of it remained.
My father's table was not well provided at his lodgings. On
Sunday it produced a small piece of boiled beef; on the
Monday, the remains of it cold; and on the five following
days oatmeal hasty pudding.
Potatoes were not then known
as common food. The breakfasts were of bread and milk, the
suppers of bread and cheese.
I slept on a bag of chaff thrown under the stairs, and my only
covering was an old ragged petticoat. I was chidden and
beaten by the woman in whose house we lodged; I was kicked
and cuffed by her sons; and I was whipped by my father, who
was frequently heard to say that he wished somebody would take
me off his hands. This treatment made me stubborn. I knew I
had no friend, and I was often invincibly silent when I was
asked a question.
At seven years of age I was set to work in the silk mills,
where I toiled from five o'clock in the morning till seven at
night for the weekly sum of one shilling. This paid for my
board and lodging, and rendered me independent of my father,
except for the clothes I wore.
There a remarkable circumstance occurred to me. Afraid
of being past my hour in a morning, and deceived by a clouded
moon, I frequently rose in the night mistaking it for day. At
one of these times, I found all was silent in the mill, and I
knew that I was too early. As I stood leaning pensively on the
parapet of the bridge, I heard the clattering of horses' feet;
and, without turning my head, I asked what it was o'clock.
No answer being given I turned to look, and I distinctly saw the
appearance of a man, riding one horse and leading another, on
the mill-wheel. The clock then struck four, and the apparition
vanished.
The reality of this has been doubted. It has been urged to
me that the intellects of a sleepy boy at such an hour, were
not sufficiently clear to decide upon so important a point as the
appearance of ghosts. In short, that I must have been asleep;
that the man and horses moving on the mill wheel must have
been the subjects of my dream, and that I was awakened by
the striking of the clock. But I am as certain that I saw them

ke Family of Hulo.

6I

there, as that I have now been relating that circumstance. I
On the contrary, the certainty of
am not afraid of ghosts.
having seen one has made me desirous of meeting with others,
and I have sought them at midnight in churchyards, and on fields
of unburied dead. But I am as little visionary as I am afraid,
and I own that I never saw ahy other apparition than that
upon the mill-wheel.
At ten years of age I was taken from my present employment, and apprenticed to my uncle, a stocking-maker at
Nottingham. What was taken from the term of my first
servitude, however, was thrown into the second, which was to be
eleven years. My uncle was a man of excellent principles, and
strict integrity ; but there was nothing conciliating in his beHis wife was cunning, artful, deceitful, and
haviour to me.
Among her other arts, she had that of
parsimonious.
governing her husband. It was his business to see that a
reasonable quantity of work was done by the apprentices; and
hers to keep their animal powers in motion at the least possible
cost.
I was regarded by all, and I must acknowledge with some
appearance of reason, as an obstinate incorrigible lad, whom it
Thus every man's hand
was in vain to take any pains with.
was against me; though mine had as yet been against no
man.

The sedentary occupation of weaving stockings is so repugnant to the spirit and activity of youth, that nothing is more
common than for the apprentices to abscond. One of those
belonging to my uncle, a nephew of his wife, had frequently
endeavoured to prevail upon me to try the experiment. At
We ran away together repeatedly;
length he succeeded.
sometimes separately ; but, children as we were, we could form
We were seldom absent longer than a day or two;
no plan.
or farther distant than the environs of the town ; when some
person sent in pursuit of us would generally find us under a
hedge, without any other gratification than the negative one,
that we were not making stockings.
In one of my solitary excursions, however, I took it into my
head to go to a village near Mountsorrel, where two of my
I made myself known to my aunts;
mother's sisters resided.
but they judged it expedient to send me back; and the husband
of one of them mounted his horse, placed me behind him, and
delivered me into the hands of my uncle.

62

Additional Notes on

I ran
When I was thirteen I executed a bolder scheme.
away for about the tenth time, and, at the instigation of my
fellow apprentice, I took with me four pairs of hose. I can
offer no apology for such conduct. I can only be thankful to
Providence that, never having known affection from any human
being on one hand; and prompted by necessity and evil
counsel on the other; an outcast from the society of the good,
and exposed to the temptations of the wicked, I have not
more sins to repent of than I now have.
I went to a village a few miles from Nottingham, where I
The youth of the tradesman
offered my goods for sale.
rendered his honesty suspected; every one to whom I shewed
the stockings enquired how I came by them. My answer was
He was a maker of hose
ready, " My father lived at Derby.
and employed me to sell them." It is a maxim that one should
believe only half of what is said. Here belief should have
been limited to a third.
It happened, unfortunately for me, that two of the persons
to whom I addressed myself were going to Derby on business
of their own; and after some deliberation, they determined to
ascertain what portion of my story was true. One of them
placed me behind him on his horse, and carried me through
Nottingham (the town to which I and my stockings belonged)
in their way to Derby, where I had now no connexion.
I was under no uneasiness; for I was resolved to make my
escape, and I did not doubt that, in so long a journey, the
opportunities would be many. The first that presented itself
was in Risley field. I saw a house in an enclosure at a small
distance from the road. I suffered my conductors to pass it,
when gently slipping down behind, I ran towards it with my
utmost speed. But I could not perform this manoeuvre without being observed, and the greater my desire to elude their
vigilance, the greater were the hopes of the horsemen to find
me a thief. One of them instantly dismounted, pursued me,
and caught hold of my leg as I was getting over the hedge. I
was replaced in my former situation, and held so fast that
running away was impracticable.
We alighted at the George inn at Derby, where it so happened
that one of the women servants knew me and my family; and
she informed my conductors, to their extreme mortification,
that my father did indeed live at Derby; but that I and my
hose belonged to Nottingham, where I was apprenticed.

the

Family of Huttlon.

63

Having brought their troublesome charge so far, only to carry
him back again, they resolved to have the pleasure of presenting him to his father. I did not like this. My father was
a personage at no time favourable to me, and, at such a time I
was particularly desirous to keep out of his way.
I was obliged to submit; but fortune proved more friendly
to me than to my keepers. My father was standing in the
street, before his dwelling; and the moment he beheld me
with attendants, he understood the whole affair. Before they
had time to speak, he called out, in a magisterial way, "Take
the hound-gallion away ! I will have nothing to do with him !"
And when the men were proceeding to open the case, he cried
aloud, "I say take him away !" They found themselves
obliged to obey this command, and they took me back to the
George inn, and gave me a dinner, which grief would not
allow me to eat.
They went about the business which had brought them to
Derby, and they gave me in charge to " Boots." But" Boots"
had other avocations than the attending run-away apprentices,
and one of these was to carry coal into the house. In this he
conceived I might be of use to him, and he provided me with a
load as well as himself. A gentleman who was standing in the
inn yard, and who knew that I was a prisoner, cried, "You can
run faster than that man--why don't you set off ?" I made no
reply: but to set down the coal basket and run out of the yard
was the work of a moment.
I should have effected my escape, had not the cry of " Stop
thief !" arrested my progress. All were ready to assist in so
laudable a work as the stopping a thief; the nearest laid hold
of me, and I was again committed to the care of " Boots."
Having found me as slippery an apprentice to the profession of
coal-bearer as I had proved to the trade of stocking-maker, he
trusted me no more. He locked me up in his own office,
where I continued a close prisoner till the return of my former
conductors. Boots then related my attempt at my own liberation, and demanded sixpence for the care he had taken of me.
This was an additional grievance.
The money was paid,
though with great reluctance, and I believe my two honest men
would consider well before they again undertook to secure a
run-away apprentice and detect a thief.
I was again placed behind one of the men, and we set out
on our return to Nottingham. I still adhered to my resolution

64

Addiioznal Notes oz

of escaping, if possible, but I was held so fast that I had no
opportunity of making the trial till we were entering the town,
when the horse taking fright at a bonfire that was made on
account of the victory of Culloden, my keeper was obliged to
let go his hold. That instant I was off the horse ; but I sunk
so deep in the mud that I could not disengage myself. A
number of charitable hands were stretched out to extricate the
poor lad that had been thrown down. I wished for nothing
but that I might be suffered to lie in the mire till my fellow
travellers were gone. Charity prevailed I was once more
placed upon the horse, and now carried safely to my uncle.
My conductors vented some of their ill-humour in giving me
the character I well deserved; but I think they retained enough
to let the next young vagabond, who offered stockings for sale,
escape without such a minute investigation.
A severe beating was the never failing reward of one of our
expeditions; but this appeared to be of so heinous a nature
that to the discipline of the cudgel was added a log of wood,
so heavy, that I could but just lift it with both my hands. This
was fastened by a chain, round my ankle. My fellow apprentice,
who though not a partner in this undertaking, had often been
a dealer in hose, was secured in a similar manner. But cudgels,
and logs, and chains cannot bind a young and enterprising
spirit. I was equally averse to my occupation and my confinement, and I determined to be free.
My companion and I essayed our powers. We could not
run away, with such weighty impediments at our feet ; but we
seceded from our stocking-frames, and carried our logs into an
adjacent field, where we were found sitting on the grass, in
great composure, making experiments on our chains with a
knife.
It was not long before my fellow apprentice procured a
chisel, an instrument which we hoped would set us at liberty.
We repaired to one of our favourite fields, where we worked
all day at our fetters, and had just got so far as to break our
chisel, when we were seized, and taken prisoners into the work
room.
My uncle, though he had a strong partiality for the cudgel,
was no friend to chains. He, therefore, privately desired my
brother* (who was also his apprentice) to come to him as a
*William Hutton, the Historian.

thle Family of Hutlon.

65

suppliant, while I was present, and to entreat that the restriction of the logs might be removed. This was done; and, after
a formal lecture from my uncle on the duties of an apprentice,
and the charms of the stocking-frame, we were restored to the
rights of man, those of using our own legs at our own pleasure.
So little impression did the harangue of my uncle make
upon my mind; so thoroughly weary was I of the confinement of an apprentice; and so mortally did I hate his beloved
stocking-frame; that the first use I made of my liberty was to
elope.
I had sense enough to know that thieving led to
hanging; and as my comrade had entered on the one, I
thought I might arrive on the other. I had no mind to reach
this termination of my travels, and I resolved to go alone. I
made another resolve-that no earthly power should bring me
back while I could be compelled to sit at a stocking-frame. In
consequence of this resolution, and, contrary to all my former
proceedings, except when I visited my aunts, I took the direct
road to London.
I passed through Loughborough without stopping, and
through Mountsorrel without visiting my aunts; and, having
left behind me every place and every creature I had seen
before, I concluded that I was safe from pursuit.
My clothes were whole and decent, but every pocket was
empty. I did not beg; nor did I steal. Lying was a vice I
could not so easily avoid; though I kept as near the truth as I
could without betraying my situation. I joined some travellers,
or I loitered about some house, till I attracted notice; and in
answer to any enquiries, I said that I was a poor lad, whose
parents were dead, and that I had neither money nor friends.
This tale excited some suspicion; but it procured me, now and
then, a halfpenny, or a crust of bread; and at night, if the
barn door was shut against me, I found a comfortable lodging
under a hay-stack.
I travelled in this manner till I had nearly reached Market
Harborough; when, seeing two men leading a cart with manure
in a farmyard, I stopped, in hopes of getting something to eat.
One of them, who I afterwards found was the farmer's son,
questioned me more closely than I liked; but I came off pretty
well. At last he said, " If tha'st nothink to eat, why dussent
ta work; I canna find that th' yarth yields vittles without
work." I told him that I was very willing to work, but that I
did not know anybody who would employ me. " If that be

66

Additional No/es on

hit," said the young farmer, " thee shallent clam for want
o' summot to do. I'll set thee of a job, and thee shat addle
thy dinner."
I finished my job to the satisfaction of my employer, and
began another without bidding. At night I had the good
fortune to be turned into the barn. The next morning I rose
with the dawn, and stuck close to the young farmer. I did all
that he bade me do, and much that he did not; and at night I
heard him say to his father, " He duzzent understand much
o' the natur o' things, to be sure; but he osses middling well.
He's a pretty, farrantly lad, and I think we'll e'en keep him
till after harrast."
I performed the lower offices of
I was now in place.
husbandry. I was fed upon whey porridge in a morning; broth
at dinner; and cheese at night; with a proper proportion of
brown bread to each; and I slept on clean straw in a comfortable part of the barn. I was a good servant under a good
master, till one unlucky day that I was sent, with a halter in
my hand, to catch a horse. I was perfectly ignorant of the art
of catching a horse, but, determined to succeed, I marched
boldly towards him. He suffered me to approach very near,
when, not liking the appearance of either me or my halter, he
turned his tail upon me, and walked slowly away. I followed;
I quickened my pace, to overtake him ; he trotted out of my
reach; I ran, he galloped; and I chased him over every blade
of grass in the field. As I found it impossible to get hold of
him, I conceived the project of sending him home before me;
I therefore set the gate open, and endeavoured to drive him
through the opening. I succeeded in driving the horse, but
not in driving him through the gateway. Whether his imagination reached so far as the farmer's cart, which awaited him at
home, I know not; but whenever I had got him near the gate,
he made a sudden double and paraded his pasture with increased speed, throwing out his heels by way of defiance.
Despairing of
Flesh and blood could not stand this!
catching the horse, I resolved to punish him for not being
This was
caught, and I pelted him with a shower of stones.
more than he could bear, and he leapt over a rail, left me in
full possession of the scene of contest, and was out of sight in
a minute.
The horse having run away, nothing remained but for me to
do so too, as I dared not face my master. I therefore left him

/e

Family of Hutton.

67

tb get in his harvest, when it should please Providence to send
it, and pursued my way towards London.
I had not travelled far before I was sensible of the approach
of my old adversary, hunger. I saw some bricklayers building
a house, and I set my hand to the work. Whoever was at a
loss for materials I supplied with them.
Whatever was in the
way I removed, or assisted others to remove, if it was beyond my
own strength. This procured me some scraps of meat and a
share of the allowance of beer. And the following day one of
the labourers, being drunk and saucy, his master discharged him,
and retained me, boy as I was, in his place.
I may here observe that no master is more severe with his
servant-no despot more tyrannical to his subject,-than a
working bricklayer is to his labourer, or a chimney-sweeper is
to his boy. No men are more tenacious of their dignity, when
compared with their assistants, than these men of soot and
mortar.
I served my bricklayer with punctuality, and enjoyed the
fruits of my labour, till one day, while I was carrying a bucket
with white. wash up a ladder, my foot slipped, and I fell to the
ground. I was nearly at the top of the ladder when this misfortune happened, and I was stunned by the fall. I soon
recovered, when I thought not of myself, but sent an enquiring
look after the bucket.
I found that it had fared the worst of
the two, for it was dashed to pieces ; and not only so, but its
contents had fallen on the front of the house, and, as I
believed, had spoiled it for ever. I might have weathered the
wreck of the bucket, but the ruin of the house was too much
for me.
I looked around with a fearful eye, and seeing that
no creature was a witness of the catastrophe, I advanced ten
miles nearer London that night.
I was next entertained in the service of a miller; but I had
not been long with him, before not only his mill, but the whole
I had
village in which it stood, were burnt to the ground.
here, the advantage of the rest of the sufferers.
We were
equally without a home, but I was accustomed to be without,
and I had sustained no other loss.
I now made the best of my way to London, where I arrived
on the 18th of August, 1746. Astonishment made me forget
both hunger and fatigue.
On my arrival in London I was not a little surprised to see
that the immense population of this great city was all movihg
F2

68

Additional Notes on

the same way. Thousands were in motion before and behind
me; but I scarcely met a human being. Whatever their
business might be, it could not interrupt mine, and I made one
of the throng, till we joined a multitude already assembled on
Tower Hill.
I learned from some of the bystanders, that we were all met
together to have the pleasure of seeing the heads of two noblemen chopped off with an axe; and that a stage, which I saw
before me, had been erected for the purpose of showing the
exhibition to the best advantage.
I had heard much of the rebels at Nottingham. I believed
a rebel to be the blackest of all bloody-minded villains, and I
was delighted with the opportunity of seeing two rebel chiefs,
as I understood these lords to be, punished as they deserved.
I had very nearly paid for this gratification with my life; for
on the bustle which preceded the entrance of the first lord, the
pressure of the crowd became so great that I thought I should
be suffocated; and this would probably have been the case,
had not some one cried out, " The lad will be killed !"when
a.tall, strong fellow, whose humanity equalled his strength,
made a violent effort, and seated me on his shoulder. Here I
sat at my ease during the whole time, and perhaps saw the sight
better than any other person present.
I must acknowledge that I did not find the beheading of a
rebel so entertaining as I expected; and the generality of the
crowd seemed to be of the same opinion. We, somehow, forgot that he was a rebel, and could not help feeling for him as
a man.
When all was over, the multitude, struck with the sad spectacle they had witnessed, silently filed off towards their respective
homes. I had no home, and I loitered about, not knowing
where to go. Of all the sights that London afforded, none so
I could not help
much attracted my notice as a cook's shop.
stopping to admire the wondrous plenty and variety of victuals
placed before me, and I stood riveted to the spot, till a man
came out of the shop, and threatened to kick me, if I did not
go about my business. "I would, if I had any business," said
I, "but I have nothing to do, and nothing to eat." A decentlooking man, who was accidentally passing, hearing me say this,
asked me a number of questions : and, being satisfied by my
answers, that I was tolerably honest, and greatly in want, he
took me home with him.

the Family of Hutton.

69

My new patron was a shopkeeper. His house was built on
London Bridge, its front standing towards the road, its back
hanging over the river. A row of such houses on either side,
at that time, converted London Bridge into a street, in which
the only openings to the Thames were in the centre.
I was ushered into a small back room, known by the name
of the kitchen, where I was consigned to the care of a dirty
I almost forgot my hunger in looking through
maid servant.
the window. Vessels innumerable and of magnitude hitherto
unseen, and unimagined by me, seemed the natural productions
Numbers remained immovable by the side of
of the river.
each other, as if they had just risen into existence, and were
not able yet to start; while others, having acquired the power
of motion, were swimming along the surface in every direction.
My reverie was interrupted by the sound of a dish and a knife.
I picked the bones of three several sorts of meat; I slept on
two empty bags behind the counter; and I thanked God for
my food and lodging. My business here was to run on errands
for the shop ; and I acquitted myself of it with great puncI was found to be such a clever, trusty
tuality and dispatch.
lad, that the mistress condescended to employ me on her
The children found me a hundred different occupaerrands.
tions; and whenever it was possible to get a spare minute, the
maid set me to work, and drove me on as if her life depended
on my completing that affair before I was called off to another.
I was soon weary of unceasing drudgery. Even at the
stocking-frame, when I could conjure up sufficient resolution
to perform the task allotted to me, there were hours that I
could call my own; and there were places where the air was
unconfined, and whose roof was the heavens, where I could
Here, out of doors was
sport and play with my fallows.
labour; within doors, labour and imprisonment. Besides this
I had never been used to the menial employments of blacking
shoes, cleaning knives, and scouring kettles; and I looked with
loathing on the coat of soot which enveloped my person and
my garments.
In a melancholy mood, I stole out, one Sunday, determined
to refresh myself with a sight of the fields, whatever might be
I rejoiced when I had left
the result when I returned home.
London behind me. At last, I began to question myself why
I should return at all; I could eat there, but that was all, and

70

Addiionaul Notes .on

I might possibly find some other place where I could eat, and
live more to my mind. I instantly mended my pace, and went
in search of a new habitation.
I found myself in Epping Forest; and, after wandering a
considerable time, I came to a house in a very lonely situation.
It was towards night, and I looked about for a lodging. I
advanced near the window ; I saw nobody. I tried the door;
it was fast. I went on to a building that had the appearance
of a stable; I tried the door of this, and it opened. But what
was my astonishment on finding the floor covered with blood !
Horror-struck, I was retreating, when I heard the key of the
house door turn in the lock, and the door grate on the hinges,
and saw issue from the house the most frightful of human
The monster was tall, lean, black, and haggard, and
beings.
had a hare-lip. He reached me in three strides, and, grasping
my arm, demanded, in a voice of thunder, what I wanted
Terror kept me silent, while it shook every limb.
there.
He repeated his question, shaking the arm he griped, and
adding that if I did not tell him he would murder me. This
was precisely what I looked for whether I spoke or not. With
some hesitation, I brought out the old story-that I was friendless, penniless, and out of employment. ." That is not what I
"Thou hast been where thou
wotld know," said the man.
Thou couldst not expect to find either
hadst no business.
friends or money in that place, and I ask thee what thou
wantedst there ?"
SI was looking for a place to sleep in," I replied.
"Well, then," said the man, " thou shalt sleep in that place.
I will lay thee a handful of clean straw in one corner, and I
will lock thee in till morning."
" But I don't like to be locked in," said I, "and I wish to
go farther to-night."
"Thou wishest to lodge here, and thou wishest to go farther.
I think thou art a little scout, and I will take good care of thee.
And if any of thy accomplices come after thee I will take care
of them too."
I was then pushed into the house of blood; a handful of
straw was thrown down to me, and I heard the door locked on
I lay in agonies; the
For hours all was still.
the outside.
bloody knife was perpetually before me, and I listened for the
coming of the assassin. At length sleep stole over me unawares,
and when I opened my eyes, I saw the sun peeping through

the Family of Hutton.

7

the crevices of the tiling. I concluded that murder was a deed
of darkness, and that sunshine proclaimed my safety.
My host proved to be a butcher, and my bedroom a
slaughter-house. He was the sole- inhabitant of his mansion;
and it appearing from my situation that he might gain a
servant at small expense, he proposed that I should live with
him. A good breakfast reconciled me to his countenance and
manner; and my straw was removed, with my own consent,
from the slaughter-house to the dwelling.
I passed the winter in Epping Forest; sometimes being
dispatched on business by my master, and sometimes guarding
his house, while he went on business himself. I believe he
was a thief; though I never could positively ascertain the fact.
It is 'certain that he did not get rich by his calling, whatever
it might be.
time among many others, my master was absent during
the whole day, leaving me in charge of the premises. I had
never strayed out of sight of the house; but to my great consternation I found, when I went to feed the sow in the evening,
that she had burst open the door of her sty and was missing.
I was exploring the vicinity in vain research, when I saw my
master approaching. Truth must be told, at the hazard of my
ears; and very severely did he make them pay for it. He
uttered every curse that his memory and his imagination could
supply him with; and when these were exhausted, he repeated
the same again and again, as he assisted in seeking the lost
sow! The search proved fruitless; and his only recompense
was the kicks, lugs, and buffeting he bestowed on me.
Weary both of reproaches and revenge, at length the butcher
went to bed. There, to his amazement, he found his sow.
The animal had, unseen and unsuspected, walked quietly ,upstairs, and stepped into bed. But here her swinish manners
prevailed over the usual custom in such cases; for, instead of
lying down decently between the sheets, she had turned up all
the coverings with her nose, and had not ceased her labours
till she had worked her way through the ticking, when she
burrowed among the feathers.
Surprise kept the butcher silent; fear had the same effect
upon me. I lay still on my straw, in expectation of a second
punishment, and scarcely daring to breathe : when, after some
time, I was relieved from my apprehension by hearing repeated
bursts of laughter from my master, with ironical curses, and

One

72

Additional Notes on

mock compliments, addressed to the sow. He then handed
the lady out of bed, conducted her to her own apartment, and
took possession of the nest she had quitted, without bestowing
any farther correction upon me.
In the spring I was sent by my master to carry some pork to
a distant place. By accident I overtook a boy about my own
age. We were soon acquainted, and sometimes walked on together, and sometimes trifled by the way. At length we
It was not in my nature to bear a
differed, and he struck me.
blow from an equal; I set down my basket, and knocked down
my antagonist. When he rose he did not think it proper to
try the event of another contest, and he ran away. I pursued
him through the forest, I believe, for a mile; but if my fist were
better than his, his heels were better than mine; I, therefore,
gave up the chase, and returned to my basket. I found it where
I had left it; but it had been overturned, and the pork was
gone.
I was wild with terror. I suspected that some prowling
mastiff had done the deed; as I thought a human robber would
have found a use for the basket, as well as its contents. I ran
in search of him in various parts of the forest; but could find
no traces, either of the thief, or the stolen goods. Night came
on. It was the season when the deer are formidable, and, to
avoid them, I took up my lodging in a tree. Here I had time
for reflection; I decided that it would not be prudent to face
the savage anger of the butcher, and in the morning I took
my leave of Epping Forest.
I proceeded farther into Essex, and at night I slept in a comf ortable hole in a haystack. I remained here some time. In
the day I earned, or was given, my bread, according as I
could meet with employment or compassion, and at night I
retired to my hay-stack.
It would scarcely be imagined that a little insignificant
vagabond like myself could attract the notice or excite the
fears of the overseers of two parishes; yet so it was. These
discreet gentlemen were afraid that I should become burdensome, and they determined to remove me; but they did not
find this so easy as it appeared to be. My hay-stack was my
castle. Fortunately for me, it stood in two parishes, and whenever I heard the bell toll for a vestry meeting on one side of
I confined myself
my castle, I took reftige on the other.
within the precincts of my citadel in the daytime.

tke Family of Hutton.

73

A school was near, and the boys enjoyed the joke. Some of
them brought me bread and cheese: others cakes and gingerbread; and the son of the lord of the haystack prevailed upon
his father not to dislodge me. It is true there was some opposition; as the sons of the parish officers raised a party agairst
me; but my party was the stronger; and in this case it is well
known that opposition is on the wrong side of the question.
After some time the overseers gave up the contest, and I
regained my liberty; but my persecution and my partisans
vanished together, and as I could find no employer I was
obliged to remove myself.
I came next to the village of Chigwell, where I placed myself at the gate of a farmyard. The farmer, who had occasion
to pass, examined me attentively; asked me many questions,
seemed to take a fancy to me, and finally gave me food and
set me to work. He treated me with so much kindness that
his son took a dislike to me. At least I could never assign
any other reason for the prejudice that the son had against
me.

I lived with the good farmer as a servant between three and
four years, and felt no disposition to rove, and I might probably
have remained much longer, but at the end of this time he
died. He was the first human being of whom I had felt the
loss. The son was now my master. He did not discharge me,
but my friend was gone; I had no attachment to what was
left behind, and I began to feel a desire of returning to my
family. I quitted my servitude honourably, for the first time ;
receiving my wages, and the good wishes of the family, and I
took the road to Derby. I was now eighteen. I made my inquiries respecting my relations with caution; determined that, if
my uncle were living, I would not advance another step towards
the stocking-frame, but would again seek my fortune. I
learned that he had died a few months after I left him;
having bequeathed the use of his property to his wife, and, at
her death, dividing it between my two brothers, who had
better deserved it than myself. The use the widow had made
of it was such as saved my brothers all trouble on that account.
She had laid it out in the purchase of a young husband, who
was now beating her unmercifully.
My father was now passing the honeymoon with a third wife.
I ventured to approach him, but he received me with great
indifference,

74

Additional Notes on

I pursued my way to Nottingham, when the husband of my
aunt, who was a whip-maker, claimed me as part of his wife's,
fortune. Whether law was on his side, I know not; but necessity
was on mine. I was resolved not to make stockings, and I might
as well make whips as anything else. I, therefore, lived with him,
served him, and he taught me his trade.
.Here I learned to forgive my aunt, though I could not esteem
her. I have often stood between her and her husband's
blows.
Whip-making was a sedentary occupation, and I found it
little better than weaving stockings. I despised my master,
and hated the twisting of whalebone, I had, however, learned
to live in the early part of my apprenticeship in a way which I
had not forgotten, and which, after a few months' trial of the
whips, I practised now-this was running away.
I met with less compassion and assistance in the character of
a lubberly young man than I had done in that of a forlorn and
decent boy. " You are able to work," was the cry of every one.
My being willing to work, and unable to get employment, was
not taken into consideration. I was frequently in absolute
want of food. I experienced the charity of beggars, who,
unasked, have shared their morsels with me; and the solicitations of highwaymen, who have invited me to join them, and
share their plunder. There was but one asylum before me-the
army.
I offered myself to a recruiting sergeant-I was too short.
To another-I was below the standard. To a third, who conducted me to his captain. The captain was pleased with my
appearance, and was loth to let me go. He hesitated, and at
length rejected me. Every hope of subsistence seemed cut off.
Regiment of Foot, however, I had
With a captain in the
better success. He ventured to take me in the hope that I
might grow, and sent me, with other recruits, to his colonel, to
see whether I should pass.
I set out for Derby, where the colonel then was, in high
spirits, with a full stomach, and the sergeant's scabbard on my
shoulder, which, though it hurt me sorely, I would by no means
relinquish. The march was ro8 miles, and when I arrived at
Derby all doubts respecting my being a soldier were at an end.
I was below the standard.
The colonel was much pleased with me. He said I had
been stinted of food, and he did not doubt that I should be-

12th

-tke Family of HutIon.

75

come a tall man. He gave me in charge to the sergeant, and
ordered him to take care that I was well fed.
Never was order more welcome, or better observed. The
sergeant gave me into the hands of a widow, who kept a publichouse, telling her that she must feed me well, to make me grow.
She gave me boiled beef and cabbage three times a day, once
hot, and twice cold, during six months. I was never tired of
it; on the contrary, I ate with such an appetite, that she often
snatched away the dish before I was satisfied. In this time I
grew four inches. At the end of the six months I was ordered to
join the regiment in Scotland; and soon after I had reached it
I had become so tall that I was put into the grenadier company.
A soldier's life was to my wish ; and the vanity of an old man
may be pardoned if, when speaking of times long past, I say that
I was one of the handsomest, and one of the most orderlymen
in the regiment.
It is not my intention to give a regular detail of my military
life. When the war broke out we were ordered into Germany.
Here I met the captain who had not ventured to receive me
into his company. He expressed great surprise at the alteration in my figure, and great regret that he had let me go.
Here I also met my old master, the whip-maker. Heartily
weary of his wife, and weary, perhaps, of beating her, he had
undertaken to beat the French; and as he had revenged my
injuries, so the enemy revenged hers-the husband of my
uncle's widow being quickly numbered among the slain.
I have been in many engagements, but in no general battle.
At the time of the battle of Minden I was a prisoner, and in
a French hospital, so ill that I could not crawl out of bed.
The severest action I was ever in was that of Brucker's Mill,
on the 2Ist of September, 1762. We were in a redoubt; the
enemy were in the mill; we were determined to have their
mill, and they were resolved to have our redoubt. The redoubt, which contained an hundred men, was only three hundred
paces from the enemy's artillery, and thirty paces from their
small arms. After having fired sixty charges from the redoubt,
we were relieved; but, both in coming and going, we had to
march about four hundred paces exposed to the enemy's
cannon, loaded with grapeshot. I remember that seventeen
hundred balls were picked up on the following day, within a
very small compass. We stooped and ran, for death was in
The oldest soldiers never saw so severe a
every step.

76

Additional Notes on

cannonade. There were nearly fifty pieces of cannon employed on both sides, and their execution was confined to a
space of about four hundred paces; and neither the fire of the
artillery, nor of the musketry, of the two opposite posts, were
intermitted for a single instant, firing nearly fifteen hours.
There were seventeen complete battalions engaged in the redoubt in the course of the day; and those who entered it late
made use of the dead bodies of their fellow soldiers to raise the
parapet, which was, by this time almost levelled with the ground.
The result was that we kept the redoubt, and the French
retained the mill; and both were very soon evacuated. Some
people thought so many lives might as well have been spared,
It was only six
especially as peace was then negotiating.
weeks afterwards that Prince Ferdinand told his officers the
preliminaries were signed.
I should have mentioned that one of my comrades was
married to a pretty little Scotchwoman, who lived in camp with
him, and got a good deal of money by keeping a sutling tent
for the officers. The man was killed. In such a situation, the
woman must not remain a widow, and, with such qualifications,
she was a prize to any man. Another comrade said to me,
" I advise you to marry Kate Keith. If you wont, I will.
But there's no time to be lost, for she'll have plenty of offers."
I took a few hours to consider of it, and determined upon
soliciting the hand of Kate Keith. I found that the flenty
had been before me; but my person and good conduct obtained me the preference; and the little black-eyed Scotchwoman accompanied me to the chaplain of the regiment the
second day after her husband had fallen.
I now fared nobly. The officer's table was my table; but
after some time, it was discovered that another person was on
his way into the world who must share the attention of my wife.
This was a circumstance which I had not calculated upon; for
she had been married several years to her former husband, and
had had no child. In due time my wife presented me with a
son. He was saluted by cannon on his entrance into the
The
world, and the ball of one was near taking off his head.
day after he was born, we were ordered to march. I wrapped
my wifq and child in my cloak, and placed them on a
baggage waggon, and the only favour I could obtain was that
of marching by the side of the waggon, instead of marching
in the ranks.

the Family of Hulton.

77

A spirited young man, and inured to hardships, I had passed
gaily through a military life; and when united to an active
young woman, accustomed to her share of hardships, I had
found my happiness increase, but not my cares.
I was now
the father of a family, and my heart bled for my wife and son,
and languished for repose.
When the war was ended we were landed in Scotland. The
company to which I belonged consisted of one hundred and
ten men, of whom only nine returned home. It is rather remarkable that I never received the slightest wound. We were
once drawn up in three ranks before the enemy. I was in the
rear rank, when the front rank man before me fell. The
middle rank man immediately took his place, and he fell; I
advanced to the front, and came off unhurt.
In Scotland I had a daughter added to my family.
The liberality of my sister procured my discharge, which I
received at Fort St. George; and I walked from thence to
Nottingham, in the depth of winter, with my wife and our two
children.
I found that a sort of retributive justice had taken place in
mly family. My father had died about five years before this
time, in great poverty and misery. My aunt was subsisting on
the bounty of her friends, and dining at their tables without
invitation; though it sometimes happened that dinner was put
back an hour, on account of her being in the house.
My excellent sister provided me with whalebone, and I
made whips on my own account; but I was born with an
aversion to a sedentary, monotonous employment, which my
rambling life had not contributed to diminish, and I did little
good as a manufacturer of whips. Had I been put to the
plough, variety of labour in free air, might have made me, in
time, a substantial farmer. I did not want talents, but they
were ill-directed by my father.
I am now an old man. My wife has been dead many years,
And my children are married. My son is in a flourishing situation. My chair stands always in his chimney corner, and the
knife and fork, the can of ale, and the pipe and tobacco are
always ready.
I ought to add to the foregoing highly interesting narrative,
that the manuscript is thus concluded by its hero's niece,
Catherine Hutton, the novelist -"

The ' Old Soldier

'

is my

78

Addilional

VNotes
on

uncle Samuel Hutton, my father's younger brother. Every
circumstance in the narrative is a fact, as I had it from the
' Old Soldier' himself. The language is my own.
"CATHERINE

HUTTON."

This Samuel Hutton married, as has been related, a young
woman named Catherine Keith, the widow of a soldier. By
her he had issue two sons and two daughters-viz., Thomas, of
whom I shall speak presently; Catherine, born in Edinburgh,
in 1764, who married, in 1786, Mr. Joseph Cox, of Nottingham,
by whom she had a numerous issue ; Anne, born in Nottingham,
in 1766, and married, in 1786, to Mr. Francis Fox, of that town,
and also had numerous issue; and William, who died in
infancy.
Thomas Hutton, who was born in camp at Earph, in
Germany, in July, 1761, was brought up to the business of a
cabinet-maker, at Nottingham, and became a remarkable
proficient in his trade, and a man of substance. He married, in
1786, Miss Christian Peet, of Derby, by whom he had issue,
two sons and five daughters. These were, Samuel Hutton, of
whom presently; Catherine Hutton, who was born in 1788, and
having married Mr, Bower, of Nottingham, died in 1830; Mary
Hutton, also of Nottingham, who was born in 1792, and was
married three times-first to Mr. Blackshaw, second to
Mr. Gregory, and third to Mr. Collishaw, and died in 1842.
Anne Hutton, born in 1793, married to Mr.William Hutchinson,
of Nottingham, and died in 1843; Martha Hutton, born in
1795; Harriet Hutton, born in 1797, married to Mr. William
Summer, of Birmingham, and died in 1845; and Thomas
Hutton, born in 1799, of whom I shall speak presently.
SSamuel Hutton, of whom his great-uncle, the historian, wrote,
"at the age of eleven he quitted Nottingham for Birmingham,
December 2 9 th, 1798, with the view of being assistant to my
son, trained to his business, and inheriting our fortune, which is
considerable, and probably will increase. He appears at this
day, May 3rd,
to be worthy of both. His behaviour,
though a child, is that of a prudent man, excellent beyond any
instance I have met with, and promises a wealthy and amiable
character," was born at Nottingham on the 4th of April, 1787.
At eleven years of age, as has just been said, he came to Birmingham to be brought up to the business, and to inherit the fortune
of the family. In 1822 he married a lady of London, a

1799,

te Family of Hlton.

79

Miss Harriet Mills,-by whom he had issue a family of three sons
and two daughters. Mr. Samuel Hutton died on the 23rd of
January, 1828, and was succeeded by his eldest son, the
present William Hutton, Esq., as will hereafter be shown.
Mr. Thomas Hutton, to whom reference has been made, was
born 1799, and died in i833, havifg, in 1827, married Miss
Frances Field, by whom he had issue four daughters-viz.,
Catherine Christian Hutton, born in 1828, and married in 1857, to
William Franks Beale, Esq., of Birmingham; Mary Hutton, who
was born in 1829, and died unmarried in 1846; Frances Amelia
Hutton, born in 1832, and married in 1864, to Mr. Henry
Bourne, of Birmingham ; and Emily Sumner Hutton, born in
1834, married in I857 to Mr. Henry Bourne, of Birmingham,
and died in 1862; and one son, Thomas Frederick Hutton,
who was born in 1831. This gentleman married, in I856,
Miss Sarah Warden, of Coventry, by whom he has issue four
sons and one daughter.
The issue of Mr. Samuel Hutton were three sons and two
daughters-viz., William Hutton, the present worthy representative of the family; Thomas Hutton, born in 1823, who
married, in 1844, Charlotte Musgrove, of Birmingham, and
died in 1849; Samuel Hutton, born in
and died in 833 ;
Catherine Hutton, born in 1827, married, in 1840, to Mr.
William Lort, of Birmingham; and Harriot Hutton, born in

1826,

1831.

The present representative of the family, William Hutton,
Esq., of Ward End Hall, was born in 1829
In
he
married Miss Emma Bray, of Chapel Brampton, Northamptonshire, by whom he has had issue seven sons and four daughters-viz., William Hutton, Thomas Howard Hutton, Thomas Hutton,
Richard Bray Hutton, Emma Anna Sophia Hutton, Samuel
Hutton, Catherine Hutton, Florence Victoria Beatrice Hutton,
Lawrence Hutton, Christopher Hutton, and Constance Mabel
Hutton.
Thus, very briefly, I have brought down the " History of the
Family of Hutton" to the present day.

1851

CATHERINE HUTTON.
Of Miss Catherine Hutton, the accomplished novelist, and the
constant, unwearied, and loving nurse of both her parents, a few
words must be added. Born, as will have been seen, in x756,

80

Additional Notes on

she was the only daughter, and ultimately became the only
child, of William Hutton, the historian. Of her life nothing
need be said further than is recorded by her father in these pages
where she is so often and so lovingly alluded to; and by herself [in the completion of the memoir of him, which she brought
down to the day of his death. After her father's death,
Catherine Hutton continued to live, loving all and beloved of
all, at Benets Hill, where she ended her amiable and blameless
life, at the rare old age of ninety-one, on the 13 th March, 1846.
Her works were, " Oakwood Hall," " The Miser Married,"
and "The Welsh Mountaineer. " She also edited her father's
" Life," and contributed numberless papers and short stories to
"La Belle Assemblee," and other fashionable periodicals. In
her eighty-ninth year, this remarkable woman drew up the
following curious account of her labours for her friend Mr.
Thorpe, which after her death was printed in the " Gentleman's
Magazine."
It is singularly interesting, as a record of her life
and occupations, and as an evidence of her vigour and industry
at so advanced an age.
This curious account is as follows :
" I have made shirts for my father and brother, and all sorts
of wearing apparel for myself, with the exception of shoes,
stockings, and gloves. I have made furniture for beds, with
window curtains, and chair and sofa covers; these included a
complete drawing-room set. I have quilted counterpanes and
chest covers in fine white linen, in various patterns of my own
invention. I have made patchwork beyond calculation, from
seven years old to eighty-five. My last piece was begun in
November, 1840, and finished in July, 1841. It is composed
of 1944 patches, half of which are figured or flowered satin, of
all colours, formed into stars; the other half is of black satin,
and forms a groundwork. Here ended the efforts of my needle;
but before this I had worked embroidery on muslin, satin, and
canvas, and netted upwards of one hundred wallet purses, in
combined colours, and in patterns of my own invention. I
net such still.
"I have made pastry and confectionery as habitual employments. I was my father's housekeeper during twenty-six years,
and during the twenty-nine years since his death I have been
my own. I nursed my mother during five years' illness, and
attended my father during five years of decline.
" I have been a reader from three years old to the present

tie Family of Hutton.
day, and I have read innumerable English books, and many
French. In reading, I was always directed by my own choice,
and that fell upon geography, history, poetry, plays, and novels.
Of these I understood everything, and remembered much.
" I have written nine volumes which have been published by
Longman and Co., and three which have been published by
Baldwin and Cradock; and I have written sixty papers which
have been published in different periodicals. I have writtenthat is, copied-three hundred and thirty-three songs with the
music, some of which I sung every night during twenty years
to my father, accompanied by my guitar. I have never touched
the instrument since his death.
" I have been a collector of costumes from eleven years of
age, and I have now 650 English figures and 782 foreign.
These are all whole-lengths, generally prints; but some of the
ancient ones are drawings from Strutt, by my cousin, Samuel
Hutton. The whole have been cut out from the paper by
myself without the mistake of a hair's breadth; and if the
engravings were old or bad I coloured them. I then arranged
them chronologically, and pasted them on paper. They composed eight large folio volumes. But this is not all. To each
volume I have written an index; and to each figure the date
and name of the artist. More than this, I have written on
each opposite page of the English figures explanations and
remarks of my own, which constitute a history of the habits of
this country. I consider this as the greatest of my works.
" I have been a collector of autographs for twenty-five years,
and I am so still. I possess upwards of 2000; and to many
of these I have added such anecdotes as I could meet with,
some remarks of my own, and all the portraits I could get.
"I have been a letter-writer from seven years of age, and I
now write from three to four letters weekly.
"I have cultivated flowers with my own hand, and suffered
no other hand to touch them. My garden is still covered with
flowers, but not of my planting.
"I have made drawings of flowers, birds, and butterflies, in
their proper colours.
"I have walked much, and danced whenever I had an
opportunity. I have ridden much on a side-saddle, and on a
pillion behind a servant. I have ridden into Cumberland,
Yorkshire, and the extremity of North and South Wales. I
have ridden for six months on a handsome donkey-that is,
Ci

82

A dditional Notes on

daily, not during the whole time--and I have ridden in every
sort of vehicle, except a waggon, a cart, and an omnibus.
" I have been in thirty-nine of the counties of England and
Wales, twenty-six times at London, twenty-one at watering
places on the coast, and five inland.
' Is it enough ? It is. I sit in my chair at the age of eightyeight years and a half, and look back with astonishment on the
occupations of my long life. But the solution is easy. I
never was one moment unemployed when it was possible to be
doing something.
" CATHERINE HUTTON.
" Written for my friend Markham John Thorpe, Esq.,

July

13, 1844."

To this summary I add, for the purpose of showing the
pleasant and graphic style of her writing, one or two of her
shorter arid least known articles. The first is entitledA DERBYSHIRE YEOMAN.
John Freeman was steadfast as a rock in his opinions, and
nearly as immovable in his person, for he had rarely gone
beyond his native village. In his youth he had cultivated a
small paternal estate; but afterwards, preferring a life of leisure,
he let his farm, and lived with his wife and an only daughter
on the income.
John had a good understanding, and an extraordinary
memory. The whole of his education consisted in learning to
read and write; the latter profited him but little, but his fondness for the former was such that, at a very early age, almost
in infancy, he had read the Bible and Rapin's History of
England. As he advanced in years, he still read the Bible and
Rapin's History of England; and his memory was so retentive,
that he not only knew all the events, but all the personages of
the Jewish and English histories; and of the latter, all the
chronology. This knowledge was prodigious; but here John's
attainments rested. During his farming life he read Rapin's
History of England on winter evenings, and the Bible on
Sundays. He would not look into any other History of England
than that of Rapin if it fell in his way; for believing this the best
and most faithful, it would be a waste of time to read a worse,
and it might be endangering his firm conviction of what was

Mke Family of Huttion.

83

right to read a different. This last fear was groundless; for no
man was ever less likely to be shaken in any opinion he had
once adopted. John was once invited to join a party who
were going to see a play. " No," said John ; "I never saw a
play in my life, and I never will see one. I should take no
pleasure in seeing and hearing what I know to be false."
" But," said one of the party, " many of Shakspeare's plays
are founded on English History, and they keep very close to
facts." "I should dislike them more than the others," said
John; " I never read a word of Shakspeare in my life, and I
never will; for if his plays are not wholly true, they should not
pretend to be historical." " But you, who are so well acquainted with history, could not be deceived; you would distinguish the inventions of the poet in a moment; and certainly
it would be a gratification to you to see King John, Richard
the Third, and Cardinal Wolsey stand before you, and to hear
them speak." "Just the reverse," replied John; "your poet
would have made the Kings and the Cardinal repeat words
they never said, and I have a perfect idea of them from what
they really said, and, more than that, from what they really did.
Besides, I know their very looks; and if I saw a monarch of a
fair complexion represented by a fellow with a black beard, I
should bid him get off the stage."
When John Freeman had let his farm, he had so much
leisure on his hands that he perceived the necessity of extending his studies. The whole world of fiction he utterly
despised. He believed literally in the well-known maxim of
Boileau that "nothing is beautiful that _s not true ;" and he
read the histories of Greece and Rome. Idcas do not make
the same indelible impression at fifty years of age a" they do
at seven; but John became nearly as well acquainted with
Athens as with Jerusalem, and with Julius Caesar as witl
Solomon. Here his knowledge rested for ever, and he would
have shut his eyes manfully against everything which should
tend to increase it. John Freeman was a stubborn republican
of the old school; a steady admirer of the republics of Greece
and Rome in opposition of monarchy. He was a republican
by descent, and inherited his principles with his house and
land. His father, Oliver Freeman (whom I well remember),
dated his age from the commencement of the last century, and
he remembered both his grandfathers, who were officers in the
army of Cromwell.
They named their grandson after their
G2

84

Additional Notes on

former commander. It must be acknowledged that John
Freeman, with all his love of liberty, was rather despotic in his
own family. Of all kinds of government I believe John would
like the patriarchal best-where each man was an absolute
sovereign in his own house, and knew no superior out of it.
But what an air-drawn bubble is liberty! How beautiful !
How evanescent! How naturally and how soon it ends in
arbitrary power! Verges towards a single point the moment
after it was attained. Was not Cromwell an absolute monarch,
under the title of the Lord Protector ? and Napoleon under
that of First Consul ? though the people were amused with the
sounds, and knew not that the bubble had burst. Cromwell,
aware of the cry for liberty, was content with the power of a
king, without the name; and the people, for a time, believed
they were free. Napoleon, knowing the people's taste for
magnificence, soon rose above kings, and they imagined that
they rose with him.
MY NEIGHBOURS.
" Facts, facts, my masters "

Two brothers, Paul and John,* were among my nearest
neighbours. Paul was the beadle of the parish church, and his
figure, which resembled that of a baboon nearly as much as that
of a man, was arrayed on Sundays in a coat of blue, faced with
scarlet; and his head was honoured with a cocked hat, with
broad gold lace. On other days, Paul laid aside his dignity,
and appeared in plain clothes, a good deal the worse for wear.
One of his ordinary employments was going round to the
farm-houses to gather eggs ; for Paul hated labour, and loved
ale: and at every farm-house he got a cup of his favourite
beverage, in consideration of his sparing the farmer's wife the
trouble of sending her eggs to market. His basket filled, Paul
changed his route, and went to those houses where no poultry
was kept; and here he got a cup of ale in consideration of
sparing the mistress the trouble of sending to market to buy
eggs. Of all Paul's customers, I was the favourite, and the first
served; and right it was that I should be so; for our consumption of eggs was the greatest, our ale was the strongest,
and I made him a regular and liberal allowance of profit in
SPaul and John Field.

the

Family of Hutton.

85

money, which procured him ale at the public house in the
village.
Paul had a wife, an excellent kind-hearted woman, who,
after having passed a long life in his service, left him a widower
when she was ninety-three years of age. I never heard that
Paul discovered any symptoms of uneasiness on this occasion;
for he was one of those persons, of whom there are many, who
care only for themselves; and he had a daughter, as good and
as kind as her mother, and about thirty years younger, who left
him nothing to wish for that attention could bestow.
But a heavier misfortune awaited Paul. The cottage, in
which he had passed the whole of his life, became, like
in a crazy condition, and he was obliged to quit it,
lest it should fall upon his head. He and his daughter
removed to a tenement at a hundred yards distance, and it was
well they did so; for soon after, and after a windy night,
I walked through the lane in which it had stood, and found that
the thatch had vanished, the plaster walls were scattered on the
adjoining field, and only a few bare beams were remaining in
their place.
Paul was now become very infirm, and gathered eggs no
more; but his attachment to his office and his fine clothes was
unabated. He crept to church every Sunday, though it was a
mile and a half distant from his dwelling; and he crawled on his
hands and knees over a long bridge, two planks in breadth,
which lay in his way, because he dare not trust himself to walk
over it. From this state, the gradation was regular and certain.
Paul was confined to his house, his chair, his bed, was laid in
the churchyard, in which he had so often assisted to lay his
fellow-parishioners, and his coat and hat were worn by another.
This happened when he had attained the age of his late wife,
that is, ninety-three years.
John,* the younger brother of Paul, was a hard-working,
saving, sober man, rented a field, kept a cow, and had money in
the bank. His wife died young : I believe at little more than
sixty years of age; his daughter was married; his sons were
away; and his only inmate was what my neighbours term a
housekeeper, that is, a woman of all work. John had been a
traveller, and delighted to boast of it. "When I was young,"
he used to say, " I was once sent, with a pauper and a pass-cart

.himself,

SJohn Field.

Additional Notes on

86

o, Burton-upon-Trent (twenty-eight miles), and, by gom! I
dayn't think the world had been half so big as it is !"
Every half-year John walked to his banker's in the neighbouring town, with his six months' savings in his pocket, to be
added to his fund. His errand was known to us all by his drabcoloured Sunday coat, of twenty years' duration. At length,
John- bent under the weight of years, as he had long done under
the weight of labour, and he had great difficulty in getting to his
banker. Go he must, however, for no one else could be trusted.
I saw him walking homewards with a slow step; the next time
I saw his servant go to meet him, and he returned leaning on
her arm. I saw him no more ; and, a short time afterwards, he
was laid by his brother; not, however, till he had passed the
age of his brother, for he was ninety-four.
My next neighbours were two* brothers and a sister, all
single, and living together, with a man and woman servant as
their domestics. The two brothers had neither business nor
amusement, nor did they want either. On Sundays they went
to church and read the Bible; on other days they read the news1aper, or chatted with a neighbour on neighbourly concerns; if
it were day, the little wicker gate of the court was between the
parties; if evening, the neighbour was admitted to the fireside;
but no one ever presumed to take the elbow-chair, in the chimney
corner, which was the privileged seat of the elder brother. My
neighbours kept a sumptuous table, and their woman servant
was an excellent cook. No harsh word was ever heard in their
house; the brothers and sister loved each other; the servants
did as they pleased, without being reprimanded ; the masters and
mistress treated them with kindness, and behaved to them with
familiarity. No beggar ever went from their door empty-handed;
it being the maxim of these worthy people, that it was better to
bestow their money on twenty impostors, than to turn away one
who needed relief.
So smoothly did the current of life glide on with my three
neighbours, till, in a luckless hour, at widower neighbour of
sixty-five took it into his head to woo the sister, who was about
the same age. He was known to be a selfish and unfeeling
man, and to have been a churlish husband to his former wife.
The brothers were alarmed for the happiness of their sister, and
gently endeavoured to persuade her to dismiss her suitor : but
enet.

_ EdadadToa

*.Edward

nd

Thoma

Bennett

hmsAln

t Thomas Allen.

the

Family of Hutton.

:7

she was convinced that she had been long enough nmarried,
and certain that he would treat her better than he had done her
predecessor. On these convictions she married him; and she,
who had never received, or merited, contradiction, was thwarted
in every action of her future life, and died, broken down with
sorrow and vexation, at the premature age of eighty-eight.
The brothers kept " the even tenor of their way," and reached
the customary standard of existence in the neighbourhood; the
elder dying first, as it was but right he should do, at the age of
ninety-four; and the younger, after having leaned on his wicker
gate a little longer, conversing with his neighbours, dying at the
The man servant, who had passed fifty
age of ninety-three.
years in the service of the brothers, and the woman, who had
passed more than thirty, were rendered independent by the will
of their last master.
I might here notice another neighbour who died lately at the
age of ninety-one ; but he was worthless, and I will say no more
about him. I might also give some account of my father, who
lived in the house I inhabit, and died here, at the age of ninetytwo; but this account has been already given, and the subject
is too sacred to be entered upon here.
One family only remains to be noticed, and one field only
intervenes between their garden and mine. Though all the
persons I have mentioned lived within the distance of a qtiarter
of a mile from my habitation, the dwelling of this family is the
only one of them within my view. The family consists of a
mother and three children.
The mother* is a healthy woman, of a strong make, and a
strong mind, well skilled in domestic affairs, and well able to
conduct them, The house she lives in is her own, and she lets
the land attached to it, the rent of which forms an income
sufficient for her support, and that of her younger daughter.
The mother completed her ninety-eighth year at Christmas last
[1829].t In winter, her walks are limited to her garden; in
summer, I see her in the field adjoining mine, where she will
stoop to pick up a stick for her fire, and rise with perfect ease.
Her memory is excellent; she is a living chronicle of all the

+

her

* Jane Twiss.
She died the Ilth November, 1834, wanting a few weeks of completing

Io3rd year.

$3

Additional Notes on

.terits

e
which have taken place within her narrow circle for
nearly a century, and the exactness of her details cannot be
doubted.
Edward, the eldest child, and only son, is a bachelor. His
mother calls him her boy, and this boy is in his seventy-seventh
year. He was a farmer's servant as long as he was able to go
through the regular business of husbandry; but, a few years ago,
rheumatism obliged him to quit his station and retire to his
mother. He still retains his old habit of wearing his waggoner's
frock; and, by looking after the sheep of his mother's tenant,
and performing little offices about the land, he adds his mite to
his'mother's purse.
Mary, the elder daughter, is a widow, who has withdrawn from
the bustle of active life, in the neighbouring town, to end her
days under the maternal roof, and contribute her poition of the
expenses of the establishment. Mary is in her seventy-fifth year,
and is the only one of the family who can continue it to future
ages ; and if present numbers be any security for children yet
'unborn, she may reckon upon a numerous posterity. She has
presented her mother with ten grandchildren, eighteen greatgrandchildren, and one great-great-grandchild; thus putting it
in her power to repeat the ancient saying, " Arise, daughter,
go to thy daughter; for thy daughter's daughter hath got a
daughter."
Jane, the younger daughter, and the mother's girl, is an upright, stately maiden, cf seventy-two years of age, endowed with
her mother's strength of person and intellect, and bidding fair
to attain her mother's longevity.
It is remarkable that, while people are wandering from place
to place, seeking health and long life from change of air, not one
of the neighbours I have mentioned has ever, to the best of my
belief, been six miles from the spot in which he or she first drew
breath; the traveller to Burton excepted. And it is also remarkable that, while some people are indulging their appetite, and
others are fighting against it, the first brothers lived sparingly,
the second brothers luxuriously, the mother moderately, and all
attained extreme old age.
CATHERINE

Bennet's Hill, Birmingham.

HUTTON.

the

Family of Hzutton.

89

DERBY, MATLOCK, LEICESTER.
1802.

This year my father and I relinquished lakes and rocks and
mountains; the august scenery of Wales, and the north of
England. We fixed upon the home circuit, meant to retrace the
scenes of his infancy, and visit a few old friends. The roth
of June I walked to Birmingham, was caught in the rain, kept
on my damp clothes, and was seized with a difficulty of breathing and low fever, which on such an occasion had troubled me
before. Our journey was fixed for the 1 9 th; my indisposition
did not prevent our going, but my head was too unsettled to keep
a journal; and I am now, at the distance of four months, going
to recollect the outline of the journey. We went in our own
carriage, and arrived at Derby on Sunday evening, the 20th of
June. Sunday evening and Monday morning we spent in
exploring the different habitations of my father and his family,
many of them marked by the remembrance of distress, all of
poverty. The inhabitants, and all who knew them, are gone
and forgotten, and in many cases the buildings have followed.
The following index where to find them again I wrote on the
spot. My father's great-grandfather settled at Derby about the
year 1657 or 8. He kept the Shearman's Arms at one of three
low houses in Bridge Gate, on the right from St. Alkmund's
Church to the bridge, and died there about 1691, at the age of
75. He lies buried in St. Alkmund's churchyard, opposite the
middle of the south side the church, and about twelve yards
distant from it. My father's grandfather was born in the same
house in Bridge Gate, in 1659.
He married about I683, and
settled in one of the middle three of five low houses exactly
opposite the north side of St. Alkmund's Church, in Bridge Gate.
He afterwards removed to the uppermost of three or four houses
at the bottom of St. Helen's Walk, on the right. The house faces
up the walk. He died there the beginning of December, 17o8
and lies buried near his father; as do his wife and son Thomas.
My grandfather was born at the above house, opposite the north
sklie of St. Alkmund's Church, in 1691. He died the 13 th of
December, 1758, and lies buried in the south-east corner of All
Saints' churchyard, between the wall on the right and the steps
leading to the Devonshire alms-houses.
My father was born
September 30th, 1723, at the bottom of Full Street, on the right,

9o

Additional Noes on

two doors beyond Lord Exeter's house.
The premises are at
present occupied by Mr. Lupton, an attorne, and the spot
where my father first drew breath is almost as soon as you enter
the garden behind the house, and on the left hand. At two
years old, my father lived in a chamber in the Tenant Bridge
looking up the Morledge. The premises are now The Old Boat.
At three years old he lived in a house about the middle of the
Morledge, on the right, with a stone coping. The family
He then lived
occupied the front room on the ground floor.
with his mother's mother, at Mountsorrel, a year and a quarter.
At five years old he lived in Garrat's Yard, a wide yard about
the middle of King Street, on the left going from All Saints'.
Here the family occupied the front chambers of the middle and
lower houses on the left, between which there was a communication. After passing two houses in the street, the third is an
old one, whose chamber juts out exactly facing Nanny Tag's
Lane. In this chamber, which was entered by a ladder from
the yard, my father lived at six years old. From six and a half
to seven he lived in Walker Lane. From seven to eight and a
half he lived in the Mermaid Yard facing down the market-place
into Tenant Street ; here they occupied the room on the ground
floor and the garret. I saw the windows of both on the left up
the second entry from the corner, but the entrance was from an
entry in the corner, now blocked up. From eight and a half to
nine and a half my father lived down an entry on the left going
down Sadler Gate, under the first old house that projects over
the street. The family occupied two rooms on the ground floor,
one behind the other, which was the whole of the third house
on the right down the entry; in the back room there my grandmother died, the 9 th of March, 1733, and lies buried in
- All Saints' churchyard, about nine yards to the right of the walk
leading from Iron Gate to the church, and about nine south
of the church. The house has been pulled down and rebuilt.
From nine and a half to ten and a quarter my father with his
father and brother went to lodge with Mary Soar, behind the
third house on the right going from the church, at the top of St.
Mary's Gate. Not a vestige of the house remains, and all about
the spot is new. From ten and a quarter to fourteen and a
quarter, when they went apprentice to Nottingham, they still
lived with Mary Soar, who had moved her quarters to the Brookside. As you stand on St. Werburgh's Bridge, and look dqwn the
water, there is a row of small houses on the right bank. All

Ike Family of Huilton.

9I

access beyond these is now cut off by a small wall, which runs
across to the water's edge; but there were three beyond, adjoining, and in the same line. In the middle one of these
lived Mary Soar, and my grandfather's family. Not a brick remains; it strikes me with awe that while I can trace my poor
grandmother through every scene of unmerited poverty and
distress, the habitations of the worthless woman who wanted
to succeed her, and who sought her way to my grandfather's
heart by starving and neglecting his children, are vanished
from the face of the earth. Monday afternoon we went to
Markeaton out of veneration of my grandmother Cocks, my
mother's mother, who was born there. Her I knew, and now
indulge myself with writing a few lines on her subject. She
was born in 1697, the daughter of a plain and pious farmer.
I have been told she was the most beautiful young woman that
walked the streets of Derby in 1 er day. At the age of twentyfive she yielded to the importun.ties of my grandfather, a smart
young farmer who had been at London, and married him; but,
for some reason I forget, she did nct live with him for three or
four months after. She then made one of his father's family,
which consisted of father, mother, ar d four grown-up unmarried
Here she brought
daughters, besides her and her husband.
The eldest daughter died bethree sons and four daughters.
fore the second was born. The other six children lived to old
age; my poor mother, who died at the age of sixty-five, being
the only one now missing. My eluest aunt is seventy-six, my
youngest uncle, sixty-four. My grandrr.other assumed no shadow
of authority during the best part of twenty years that her husband's mother lived, but conducted herself with such uniform
good humour and discretion, that they prized her above their
own daughters. Those daughters one by one married away;
and after his wife's death, my great-grandfather gave up all to
his son, and went to live at Nottingham among the Quakers.
My grandmother could not be easy, and went to Nottingham
to persuade him to return. She succeeded. He died in less
than a year, and she frequently declared she could not have
been happy in her mind if his last moments had been passed
among strangers. Some time after, my grandfather had a fall
from a load of hay; he pitched upon his head and injured his
brain; he was never afterwards capable of business, and the
management of the farm, great part of which was their own,
devolved upon her. She now kept the fortune together, which

92

Additional Notes on

he would have dissipated, and increased it by her prudence.
She made his will; in which, after portioning five younger
children, she was left jointly in possession with her eldest son.
Her husband pressed her to take the whole for her life, which
she refused. Two years after his death she gave up her share
to her son, who married; and the first foolish thing she ever
did in her life was giving up her jointure, which was worth
30o/. a year, for an annuity of 121.

The rector of the parish,

who had known her all her wedded life, said if ever woman
had truly discharged her marriage-vow it was Sarah Cocks.
This valuable woman afterwards passed her time among her
children, where she was most wanted. My mother, who was
as good a daughter as she was a mother, would have kept her
altogether, but the wife of my eldest uncle dying while his
children were young, it was thought her presence was necessary
at Aston, the old family house. Here she lived to the age of
eighty-seven. As soon as she grew incapable of being useful,
she gave up her paltry pittance of twelve pounds a year, and
the woman who had had a head to contrive, and a hand to
execute everything that could come within her sphere, became
a piece of helpless lumber, without a shilling to secure the
smiles of a granddaughter, or the offices of a servant. She,
the whole tenor of whose life was peace, was growled at by
every soul in the house for the infirmities of human nature.
But her patience was invincible; and her hopes were beyond
the grave. We passed along beautiful meadows to Mr. Mundy's
house, and beyond it to the village of Markeaton, where we
inquired for Bennet, whose father wd knew had married the
widow of my grandmother's brother, and continued on the
farm. We found him very drunk, lying on what is here called
a long settle. My father told him I had some pretensions to be
his cousin; and that we wished to see the house where he and,
consequently, his mother's first husband and his sister were
born. He took us into a little solitary croft, to which now
not even a path pointed. " Here," says he, "stood our house,
there the public-house, and there our other neighbours." They
were utterly gone, and the cattle grazing over the habitations
of man and beast. I looked pensively round to mark the
spot; and we took leave of our staggering guide, who shook
us cordially by the hand, and asked if I was indeed his cousin.
The next morning we breakfasted at Kedleston, and walked
to the Hall, which, as far as I am a judge in architecture, is a

'the Family of HUtton.

93

model of perfection ; the inside corresponds with the out. The
Egyptian hall and a circular room are particularly striking.
The whole is decorated with such. a profusion of pictures by
the first masters that it is impossible to notice all, and, at this
distance of time, difficult to remember any. I was delighted
with a Daniel interpreting the dream of Belshazzar, by Rembrandt, though the Asiatic costume is violated by some of his
courtiers. My father viewed the place with particular interest.
It was the neighbour of his childish days. He had known it
three-fourths of a century; had known the old Hall, the old
coach, the old Sir Nathaniel, and the old lady. Nothing now
remained but the old church and the old oaks; and three
quarters of a century had made no visible alteration in them.
The oaks are the finest my eyes ever beheld. I could almost
have gone back to the religion of my progenitors, and have
His lordship has refused i ool.
considered them sacred.
apiece for nine of them, and 7o. apiece for thirty. He wants
money; but he prizes the honours of his park beyond it. My
father remembers when he was nine years old, himself and six
other boys, about the same age, joining hands, and they
wanted a foot of girting round an oak in Kedleston Park.
This monarch of the woods is gone, and has not left his like
behind. Madam housekeeper, smoothing her starched lawn
apron, is a piece of antiquity, though a modern compared to
my father. She has served her lord and lady thirty years, and
worn out her teeth in their service. We took a luncheon at
the inn, and got to Matlock in the afternoon, by the help of a
drag, which afforded opportunity for Toby to breathe going up
the hills ;-they were many of them so steep as to put me in
bodily fear. At Matlock we stayed a fortnight, passing our
time very pleasantly with the company, though my breathing
was never so well as to allow me to sleep comfortably. Our
most extraordinary acquaintance was Phoebe Bown, of whom I
wrote the following account at the time. Phoebe Bown, a
middle-sized, slender woman, about 30; ruddy complexion,
marked with the smallpox; large mouth, penetrating eye,
though grey. She walks with ease 30 miles a day, and has
She can lift a hundredweight from the
walked 48 or 50.
ground in each hand, and carry i12 or 14 score. To say her
voice is masculine would not be doing it justice : it is by far a
stronger and deeper tone than any man's I ever heard. She can
make herself heard and understood by persons accustomed to

94

Addclitional Noles on

her, with the advantage of the wind, at the distance of a mile,
and most distinctly by anybody, and without any advantage, at
a quarter of a mile. Yet is her person not masculine; it is
only muscular. She lives with her mother, a mile above the
old bath at Matlock, by the side of the river, on a small farm
of their own that will keep two cows. She has no husband-man. The mother milks the cows, but Phoebe looks after the
horses, drives the team, holds the plough, thatches the haystacks, and does all the business of the farmer. She mows
occasionally if the cows want fodder, but hires a man to do it
at harvest; besides this she breaks horses at the rate of a
guinea a week each; is a cow-jobber; and is allowed to be
the best judge of a horse or cow in the country. She always
rides without a saddle. She has a taste for music, and plays
on several instruments, which I should mention as a feminine
accomplishment, but her instruments are the flute, the fiddle,
and the base viol, which last she plays in Matlock Church, and
prefers to all others; she has indeed a harpsichord, and can
play a little on it, but her fingers are too stiff with labour to
make much proficiency; indeed, none of her performances on
music are above mediocrity. She has learned without a master,
She shoots chiefly rabbits, and though
,and plays by notes.
the neighbouring gentlemen are tenacious of their game, Phoebe
is allowed to kill what she pleases. She sews and spins her
own clothes, but does not like either. She thinks them poor
employments, and finds farming and horse-breaking more
profitable. Her manner is abrupt and often rude; especially
if she thinks people mean to insult her. But to me, who
treated her with attention, and whom she discovered to have
an understanding something above the common level, she
hardly ever spoke without a smile. I told her I had heard of
her rude behaviour, and that I supposed it was excited by the
want of respect shown her by strangers, who visited her only to
stare at her, as they would at a giant. She said it was; and that
a gentleman from this house, the other day, behaved so ill, she
had much ado to forbear knocking him down. She swears by
her Maker, and invokes the devil with as much familiarity as
any other horse-dealer whatever. Phoebe's language is refined,
far above that of her fellow-cottagers; but it is not sufficient
to express her ideas. If she had read much, it would have
helped her to those words she has had no opportunity to learn
from conversation; but she seems to have no taste for reading,

tke Family of Hutton.

95

except poetry.
She has read Shakspeare with admiration.
She values herself much on her personal strength and the
extreme quickness of her eye and ear. She assured me she did
not know what fear was. She dislikes her present situation and
pants after one more elevated. I told her to obtain it she must
sacrifice her independence. No, she said, she could preserve
that and acquire an influence over other people.
Our principal companions in the house were a Mr. Bellas,*
a worthy, benevolent clergyman from Roachdale, and two pretty,
genteel, modest daughters, the younger seemingly in a deep
decline, and Mrs. Whitworth of Roachdale, their friend, a
handsome, agreeable hoyden of nineteen, who had been a
wife three years and a half. There was also a pretty, interesting,
young woman of near twenty, at Mrs. Fardley, from Leeds.
If she recovers, Affluence and a husband's tenderest affections
await her; but consumptive symptoms and a little spice of obstinacy make that doubtful. A Mr. Ball, an attorney of
Rotherham, turned ......
Here, it is to be regretted, this interesting narrative breaks
suddenly off, in the original manuscript.
SMiss Bellas, the younger, died soon after. Mr. Bellas went to America,
taking his eldest daughter with him.
- Who died 1802.

THE LIFE
OF

WILLIAM

HUTTON, F.A.S.S.,

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

H

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

No one is so able to write a Life as the person who is the
subject; because his thoughts, his motives, and his private
transactions are open to him alone.
But none is so unfit; for his hand, biassed in his favour, will
omit, or disguise simple truth, hold out false colours, and deceive all but the writer. I have endeavoured to divest myself
of this prejudice.
I must apologize to the world, should this ever come under
its eye, for putting upon them a life of insignificance. I have
no manceuvres, no state tricks, no public transactions, or adventures of moment to lay before them, but only the History
of a private individual, struggling, unsupported, up a mountain
of difficulties. And yet some of the circumstances are so very
uncommon, as barely to merit :belief. A parallel mode of a
man's ushering himself into life, perhaps, cannot be met with.
If I tell unnecessary things, they are not told in unnecessary
words. I have avoided prolixity.
It is not easy for a man to speak of himself without running
into egotism. This I have attempted to show by adhering to
facts.
Some writers, in speaking of themselves, appear in the third
person: as, " the A uthor, tke Recorder, or the Wrifer of this
Narrative;" which seems rather far-fetched. I can see no
reason why he may not speak in the first, and use the simple
letter I.
But without entering into the propriety of either, I have
adopted the last. If I speak of myself, why not from myself?
A raree showman may be allowed to speak through a puppet,
but it is needless in an Author.
It may seem singular that I should, at seventy-five, and without any preparation, be so very circumstantial in date and
incident, with only the assistance of memory; which is, in a
double sense, carrying my life in my head. Those who know

Life of William Hutton.

99

me are not surprised. There is not a statement either false or
coloured.
Two trifles, rather uncommon, attended the fabrication of
this work; for the last of which, Lord Chesterfield, were he
living, might ridicule me as he did the Cardinal de Retz. I
composed, and wrote it three times over in one year, which
shows that industry is a part of my character; and this large
volume was entirely written with one pen! which shows that
care is another.
The paintings were the work of that celebrated artist, Moses

Haughton, who, out of friendship, offered them gratis, but
justice forbade.
WILLIAM

August 29,

HUTTON.

1798.

TO THE PEN
With which I wrote this volume in large folio, containing the
lives of my ancestors, and my own.
A piece of labour done by you
Which would a score of pens undo,
At this great task you scorn'd to droop
Which would have well employ'd a troop ;
Numbers beneath the work would groan,
But you performed that work alone.
From your dark-pointed nilbappears
The actions of two hundred years.
Of you, dear pen, it may be said
That back to life you raised the dead,
Brought forth those acts which dormant lay,
And spread them in the eye of day :
Those private follies have betrayed
Which seven generations made.
On memory let it be engrav'd
A soft goose-quill my life has sav'd,
And, what the reader will most prize,
Though you told tales, you told no lie;.
Thyself I consecrate to fame
Till one shall rise and do the sam.
May 26th, 1799.

H

2

THE

HISTORY,
ETC.

IF I pretendwhichwrite from near the time ofcan I birth? Yet
to
memory, how
pretend to
happened
my
write things
this must be complied with. Till the lame can walk, he is
allowed the use of crutches. Whether I tell of myself, or
another tells for me, truth shall never quit the page.
I was born September 30, 1723, which will bear the name

of the last day in Summer, on Wednesday, at a quarter before
five in the evening, at the bottom of Full Street, in Derby;
upon premises on the banks of the Derwent, now occupied by
Mr. Upton, an Attorney.*
There were no prognostications prior to my birth, except
that my father, the day before, was chosen Constable, and a
circumstance occurred which, I believe, never did' before or
after-the purchase of a Cheshire cheese, price half a guinea;
so large as to merit a wheelbarrow to convey it. Perhaps this
was the last whole cheese ever bought during my stay. A good
painter may seem to give many insignificant strokes, which, to
the observer amount to nothing : but, taken in the aggregate,
they may form a complete picture and a just likeness. As I
then must have been very little, the reader will excuse me if I
treat of little things. But though I am writing a little history,
yet some things are great, for my mother observed, "I was the
largest child she ever had, but so very ordinary (a softer word
But
for ugly), she was afraid she should never love me."
whatever were her parental affections then, I had no cause to
* Of the place of his birth, Hutton thus speaks in his " History of
Derby "-"
Full Street (so-called) from being the habitation of fullers,
At the
Tying convenient for that calling from its vicinity to the water.
bottom of this street, upon the banks of the Derwent, twenty yards from
the river, now Mr. Upton's garden, I first drew the vital air, September
39,'1723." See also page 89 ante.

Life of William Hutton.

IoI

complain during the nine remaining years of her life. Perhaps
she might not consider th/zat very fear indicated the strength of
her love.
At an early period I had given me, while sitting on my
mother's knee, a large hollow brass drop, such as were the
firniture of our old-fashioned chest of drawers, to amuse me
while she was engaged in conversation. The discourse ended;
the drop was missing. After diligent search, to no purpose, it
was concluded that I must have swallowed it, for it had been
observed at my mouth. Consternation ensued. The discharge
was attended to for one day, when all their fears subsided;
the brazen bolus had found its way without doing injury. This
incident I do not remember, but have heard my mother repeat it.
1725.

Memory now comes into use to aid the pen: for this year I
recollect many incidents; one, playing upon the verge of the
Derwent, with other children, where I am surprised they
suffered a child of two to remain. Another, playing with my
uncle's whip, who had just come from Mountsorrel to see us,
and, to close the farce, putting it into the fire, and burning the
lash. A third was a dangerous adventure. We infants were
playing at the fire, which was large; and, though the least of
the flock, I was not the least active. My sister had given me
a piece of cap paper, plaited in the form of a fan; in lighting
My roar
which I set fire to my petticoats, frock, and bib.
brought my mother from the next room, who put an end to the
tragi-comedy. My mother took me with her on a visit to
Mountsorrel. While the waggon was crossing the Trent, in a
barge, a pleasure-boat in view seemed gradually to sink under
water and rise up alternately with the people in it; which
shows how very delusive is the sight of an infant of two years
old. The weather was serene, the water clear, and, though
deep, the pebbles at the bottom were visible.
1726.

Every class of the animal world associates with its like. An
old couple of the name of Moses Simpson and his wife, who
lived at the next door, took great notice of me, but I shunned
them with horror; had they been young, I should probably
have sought them. But I was fully persuaded they would kill

102

Life of William Hutton.

me. I stood at the top of a flight of stairs, and she at the
bottom, coaxing me to come. She might as well have intreated
the moon. When instantly I tumbled to the bottom. She
took me in her arms, endeavoured to pacify me, dandled me
on the knee, and I was surprised that I escaped with life.
A few weeks after I saw my mother in the pangs of labour
of my brother George;* the midwife, assistants, and apparatus
about her. I, being the only male in the room, was ordered
out. A woman carried me. I afterwards saw the child asleep;
my mother took me away by the hand lest I should awake him.
1727.

At Mountsorrelt" I had an uncle who was a grocer, and a
bachelor; also a grandmother, who kept his house. And at
Swithland,+ two miles distant, three surly aunts, all single, who
resided together as grocers, milliners, mercers, and schoolmistresses.
My family being in distress I was sent over,
where I resided with them alternately fifteen months. Here I
was put into breeches, at the age of four; here I was a spunger,
and treated with much ill-nature. Nothing is more common
than for people, particularly young women, to be fond of children. I can recollect numberless instances of insult, but not
one civil thing they ever said. " You are an ugly lad; you are
like your father. Your brother is pretty; he is like his mother"
(she was their sister). I was unable to return an answer. They
might have considered this and other evils were out of my
power to remove.
It is curious to observe the ideas of infants. One of my
aunts taking me from Mountsorrel to Swithland, entered a
house at the skirts of the town, where I saw several men
rather noisy, and could not conceive they were of the family.
I observed also the shelves abound with crockeryware, and
* George Hutton was born in 1726, and died in 1730-" a lovely
child, three and a half years old."
t Mountsorrel is about seven miles from Leicester. It is a small market
town, its inhabitants being principally employed in hosiery and framework
knitting. The stone found here, "Mountsorrel stone," as it is technically
called, is found to be as durable as granite for street pavements, and hence
is much used. It is also much used for architectural purposes where hardness and durability are required. The river Soar runs near Mountsorrel.
+ Swithland is a hamlet about a couple of miles from Mountsorrel; its
inhabitants being employed mainly at the slate quarries and in hosiery, &c.

Life of William Hutton.

103

could not imagine the use. The woman of the house took us
into a back room, where she and my aunt seemed very familiar.
We passed on without resting; and my aunt, during this
little journey, fell down, perhaps, twenty times, and generally
at a stile; often lay a minute or two, and bade me look if any
person was coming. I answered, "No ;" but the answer was
needless, for I was scarcely able to look over a blade of grass.
No damage ensued, except my being terrified.
Many years elapsed before I could unravel this mystery, which
was no more than my aunt had entered a public house. The
crocks were the measures; and in the private room, while
standing, she got so completely drunk she could neither walk
nor stand.
At the corner of our aunt's garden stood a hive of bees. I
one day watched them, with great attention, at their own door;
thought their proceedings curious ; when, like a child with a plaything, with which he first amuses himself and then destroys, I
gave them a blow with my hat, flimsy as a dish-clout, and ran
away. A party was instantly detached after me, who, being
swifter of wing than I of foot, settled in my neck. I now roared
as well as ran. My timorous aunts durst not touch them, but
sent for a neighbour, while I continued in agonies. After great
depredations, the enemy was reduced, and I put under cure, but
I forgot who was the aggressor.
Standing at the hub,* eighteen inches high, by the fire at
supper, with the spoon in my left hand, my uncle asked me,
"Which was my right ?" Without knowing I stretched out the
right. "This." Though meant as a reproof, which I did not
understand, yet, for many years, whenever it was necessary to
know which was the right or left, imagination placed me at the
hub, which instantly informed me.
Another incident that occurred this year was the adventures
of a frog. An humble member of the croaking tribe happening
to hop out to take the evening air, approached the door where
our three heroines stood, and I near. They darted in, terribly
frightened, shut the door, and handed a broom through the
I was pleased that I
window, with orders for me to kill it.
could be useful. But while fumbling with the broom, which I

I

VV

Hub, or hob, the side of a fire-grate, on which the kettle or saucepan,
T
or other utensil, stands.

1.04

Life

of William Htton.

was not much used to handle, the condemned animal escaped.
I lost a little credit and got more blame, as having left an
enemy in ambush.
My eldest aunt, an ingenious, prudent, ill-tempered woman,
was taken sick, and I saw her breathe her last, without the
least knowledge of that momentous event.
1728.

My mother, unknown to mne, came to Mountsorrel to fetch
me home. The maid took me out of bed naked, except the
shirt, and, having her left hand employed, could only spare the
right, with which she dangled me down stairs by the arm, as a
man does a new purchased goose, her knee thumping against
my back every step. I was exceedingly ashamed to appear
before my mother, then a stranger, in that indecent state.
My uncle, the next day, carried her behind him, and me before, upon a pillow, on horseback, to meet the Derby waggon
at Loughborough. My father, who had not seen me of fifteen
months, received me with only two words, marked with indifference [" So, Bill"].
Dressed in my best suit, a cocked hat, and walking-stick,
then four years and a half, my sister took me by the hand to
Gilbert Bridge's, for the evening's milk, which was, in future,
to be my errand. One of his buxom daughters, in a gay mood,
snatched off my hat, and laughed at me like a winner. I gave
her a blow with the knob end of my stick. She returned the
hat in a more serious tone, with, "The young rogue has hurt
me," and from thence gave me the name of Smiler.
I now went to school to Mr. Thomas Meat, of harsh memory,
who often took occasion to jowl my head against the wall,
holding by the hair, but never could jowl into it any learning.
I hated all books but those of pictures.
Now a brother, John, was born, but soon left us, by which
he escaped that distress which awaited me.
1729.

My father
We removed our situation, as we often did.
worked from home; and when my mother was out, the care of
the family, two brothers and myself, devolved upon me, though
not the oldest. My mother ordered me, "when breakfast was
ready, to pour out each his portion of milk-porridge, and take

Life of William

Hutton.

I 05

my father his, before I eat mine." I served a mess to each,
rejoiced at the excellent measure, and fell to.
During the pleasure of eating, I recollected I had forgot my
father. Astonishment seized me. I proposed that each of us
should club to make good the deficiency. My eldest brother
refused. I therefore took a little from the youngest, and all
my own, to cure the evil.
My father, at noon, remarked, " Bill had rather pinched
him."
Thus I began housekeeping early, but began with
blunder.
My father had borrowed two newspapers. I was sent to
return them. I lost both. The price of each was only three
halfpence, but I was as much harassed as if I had committed a
crime of magnitude.
Consultations were held about fixing me in some employment for the benefit of the family. Winding quills for the
weaver was mentioned, but died away. Stripping tobacco for
the grocer, in which I was to earn fourpence a week, was
a second; but it was at last concluded that I was too young
for any employment.
1730.
This summer, July 3oth, my dear sister Ann was born; and,
as I was considered the most active of the children, the nursing
devolvedupon me. I wished to see her in dadeing* strings
like other children; but, being too poor to buy, I procured a
packthread string, which I placed under her arms, but the dear
little thing informed me, by her cries, that I hurt her.
Now we lost my dear brother George, a lovely child, three
years and a half old. It had been my office to take him by
the hand to play. My father expressed great sorrow.
My days of play were drawing to an end. The silk-mill was
proposed. One of the clerks remarked to the person who
took me there, "the offer was needless, I was too young."
However, the offer was made; and, as hands were wanted, in
the infant state of the work, I was accepted. It was found,
upon trial, that nature had' not given me length sufficient to

SDadeing, or dandling, strings, were a kind of tape or ferret, placed
under the arms of infants and held at the other end by the nurse. The
child was thus slung by the arms and held up without its nurse having to
stoop.

i o6

Life of William Hutton.

reach the engine, for, out of three hundred, I was by far the
least and the youngest.
It is happy for man that invention supplies the place of want.
They wisely thought if they could lengthen one end it would
affect both. A pair of high pattens was therefore fabricated,
and tied fast to my feet, to make them steady companions.
They were clumsy companions, which I dragged about me one
year, and with pleasure delivered up.
I had now to rise at five every morning during seven years ;
submit to the cane whenever convenient to the master; be the
constant companion of the most vulgar and rude of the human
race, beings never taught by nature, nor ever wished it. To be
upon equal terms, a lad, let his mind be in what state it will,
must be as impudent as they, or be hunted down. I could not
consider this place in any other light than that of a complete
bear-garden.*
* The silk-mill here referred to was the first ever erected for the manufacture of silk in England, and its history is very interesting. Down tb the
early part of last century, all the silk, for whatever purpose used in
England, was imported ready "thrown "-i.e., formed into threads ready
for use-from various foreign countries. In 1702, a person named Crocket,
or Crotchet, attempted to " throw " silk in a small factory in Derby, but his
machinery was not found adequate to the work, and failed. They were
afterwards successfully established by John Lombe, who thus laid the
foundation for one of the most important branches of English industry.
The following is William Hutton's own account of these mills:"All the writers, from Gregory to Gough, who have travelled through
Derby, for half a century, give us a description of the silek-ill. But it is
doubtful whether an adequate idea can be formed of that wonderful machine,
when described by an author who does not understand it himself.
Some
have earnestly wished to see this singular piece of mechanism ; but I have
sincerely wished I neverhad seen it. I have lamented that while almost every
man in the world was born out of Derby, it should be my unhappy lot to be
born in.
To this curious, but wretched, place I was bound apprentice
for seven years, which I always considered the most unhappy of my life;
these I faithfully served, which was equalled by no other, in my time,
except a worthy brother, then my companion in distress, and now my
intelligent friend.
It is therefore no wonder if I am perfectly acquainted
with every movement in that superb work. My parents, through mere
necessity, put me to labour before nature had made me able.
Low
the
engines were, I was too short to reach them. To remedy this defect, a pair
of high pattens were fabricated and lashed to my feet, which I dragged after
The confinement and the labour were
me till time lengthened my stature.
no burden, but the severity was intolerable, the marks of which I yet carry,
The inadvertencies of an infant, committed
and shall carry to the grave.
without design, can never merit the extreme of harsh treatment. A love of
power is predominant in every creature ; a love to punish is often attendant

as

Life of William Hulon.

107

'731.
March Ix th, was born, quite unknown to me, a female child,
at Aston, six miles east of Derby, who, twenty-four years after,
upon that power.
The man who delights in punishment is more likely to
inflict it than the offender to deserve it. He who feels for another will not
torture from choice. A merciful judge punishes with regret, a tyrant with
pleasure.
He who mourns over the chastisement he must inflict will
endeavour to reduce it, he who rejoices will augment it; one displays a
great, the other a little mind. Hoisted upon the back of Bryan Barker, a
giant approaching seven feet, was like being hoisted to the top of a precipice, when the wicked instrument of affliction was wielded with pleasure;
but alas, it was only a pleasure to one side. It was again my unhappy lot,
at the close of this servitude, to be bound apprentice to a stocking-maker
for a second seven years ; so that, like Jacob, I served two apprenticeships,
but was not, like him, rewarded either with wealth or beauty.
The time
spent at the silk-mill is not included in the last fifty years. The erection of
other mills has given a choice of place, and humanity has introduced a
kinder treatment.
The Italians had the exclusive art of silk-throwing, consequently an absolute command of that lucrative traffic. The wear of silk was the taste of
the ladies, and the British merchant was obliged to apply to the Italian,
with ready money, for the article, at an exorbitant price.
A gentleman of the name of Crotchet thought he saw a fine opening to
raise a fortune. He therefore erected a small silk-mill in I702, which joins
the present work, and is called The Old Shop, now used for fabricating
ornaments of the Derbyshire petrifactions. Every prospect of the future
undertaking was favourable till the scheme was put in practice, when the
ideas died away. Three engines were found necessary for the whole process : he had but one. An untoward trade is a dreadful sink for money,
and an imprudent tradesman is one more dreadful. We often see instances
where a fortune would last a man much longer if he lived upon his capital
than if he sent it into trade. Crotchet soon became insolvent.
John Lombe, a man of spirit, a good draughtsman, and an excellent
mechanic, travelled into Italy with a view of penetrating the secret. He
stayed some time; but, as he knew admission was prohibited, he adopted
the usual mode of accomplishing his end by corrupting the servants. This
gained him frequent access in private. Whatever part he became master of
he committed to paper before he slept. By perseverance and bribery he
acquired the whole, ihen the plot was discovered, and he fled, with the
utmost precipitation, on board a ship, at the hazard of his life, taking with
him two natives, who had favoured his interest and his life at the risk of
their own; but, though he judged the danger over, he was yet to become a
sacrifice.
Arriving safe with his acquired knowledge, he fixed upon Derby as a
proper place for his purpose, because the town was likely to supply him
with sufficient number of hands, and the able stream with a constant supply
of water. This happened about the year 1717.
He agreed with the Corporation for an island or swamp in the river, 500
feet long and 52 wide, at 81. per annum, where he erected the present
works, containing eight apartments and 468 windows, at the expense of

Io8

Life of William Hutton.

would become my wife ;* be my faithful and dear companion,
and love me better than herself. I was to possess this inestiabout 30,ooo00. This island, with another called the Bye-flat, were part of
the continent, but separated ages past by cutting two sluices to work four
sets of mills. The ground continuing flat farther west would yet allow
one or two sets more.
This ponderous building stands upon huge piles of oak, from sixteen to
twenty feet long, driven close to each other with an engine made for that
purpose. Over this solid mass of timber is laid a foundation of stone.
During three or four years, while this grand affair was constructing, he
hired various rooms in Derby, and particularly the Town Hall, where he
erected temporary engines, turned by hand ; and, although he reduced the
prices so far below those of the Italians as to monopolize the trade, yet the
overflowings of profit were so very considerable as to enable him to pay for
the grand machine as the work went on.
It appears that the building was completed and in full employ several
years before the leases were executed, which was not done till 1724, and
extended to seventy-nine years.
Being established to his wish, he procured, in 1718, a patent from the
Crown to secure the profits during fourteen years. But alas ! he had not
pursued this lucrative commerce more than three or four years when the
Italians, who felt the effects of the theft, from their want of trade, determined
his destruction, and hoped that of his works would follow.
An artful woman came over in the character of a friend, associated with
the parties, and assisted in the business. She attempted to gain both the
Italianis ; she succeeded with one. By these two slow poison was supposed,
and perhaps justly, to have been administered to John Lombe, who lingered two or three years in agonies, and departed. The Italian ran away to
his own country, and madam was interrogated, but nothing transpired except what strengthened suspicion.
Grand funerals were the fashion, and John Lombe's was perhaps the most
superb ever known in Derby. A man of a peaceable deportment, who had
brought a beneficial manufactory into the place, employed the poor, and at
advanced wages, could not fail meeting with respect, and his melancholy
end with pity. Exclusive of the gentlemen who attended, all the people
concerned in the works were invited. The procession marched in pairs,
and extended the length of Full Street, the Market Place, and Irongate, so
that when the corpse entered All Saints', at St. Mary Gate, the last couple
left the house of the deceased at the corner of Silk Mill Lane. Besides a
row of flambeaux on each side the procession, one person in every fourth
couple carried a branch, with four candles, weighing a pound.
Though the unhappy victim died at the early age of twenty-nine, and by
a cruel death, yet the priest who preached his funeral sermon took for his
There
text, " He is brought to his grave as a shock of corn in its season."
is, however, a remark in favour of this ill-chosen text : the good never quit
the world out of season.
John dying a bachelor, his property fell into the hands of his brother
William, who enjoyed, or rather possessed, the works but a short time;
* See note relating to this lady and her family under the year 1755, and
also page 5I ante.

Life of William Hutton.

09

mable treasure forty years, then lose it, and mourn the loss
every future day of my life.
for, being of a melancholy turn, he shot himself. This superb erection
therefore became the property of his cousin, Sir Thomas Lombe. I believe this happened about the year 1726.
If the Italians destroyed the man, they miscarried in their design upon
the works; for they became more successful, and continued to employ
about 300 people.

In 1732 the patent expired, when Sir Thomas, a true picture of human
nature, petitioned Parliament for a renewal, and pleaded " That the works
had taken so long a time in perfecting, and the people in teaching, that there
had been none to acquire emolument from the patent." But he forgot to inforin them that he had already accumulated more than 120,0001. :thus
veracity flies before profit. It is, however, not wonder disguise should
appear at St. Stephen's, where the heart and the tongue so often disagree.
Government, willing to spread so useful an invention, gave Sir Thomas
14,ooo/. to suffer the trade to be open, and a model of the works taken,
which was for many years deposited in the Tower, and considered the
greatest curiosity there.
A mill was immediately erected at Stockport, in Cheshire, which drew
many of the hands from that of Derby, and among others that of Nathaniel
Gartrevalli, the remaining Italian, who sixteen years before came over with
John Lombe : him I personally knew ; he ended his days in poverty-the
frequent reward of the man who ventures his life in a base cause or betrays
his country. Since then eleven mills have been erected in Derby, and the
silk is now the staple of the place. More than a thousand hands are said
to be employed in the various works, but they are all upon a diminutive
scale compared to this.
The describers of this elaborate work tell us mechanically, as followers
of the first author, that " It contains 26,000 wheels, 97,ooo movements,
which work 71,000 yards of silk thread, while the water-wheel, which is
eighteen feet high, makes one revolution, and that three are performed in a
minute; that one fire-engine conveys warmth to every individual part of the
machine, and that one regulator governs the whole." By these whQlesale
numbers the reader is left about as wise as before. The design of writing
is to communicate the same intelligence to the understanding as might be
conveyed through the eye or the ear upon the spot. Had the author made
the number of his wheels o10,000ooo would have been nearer the mark,
less he
or if he had paid an unremitting attendance for seven years he might have
found their number 13,384. Perhaps his movements, an indeterminate
word, will also bear a large discount; but, as I am neither in the humour
to calculate nor contradict, I shall leave him in possession of his own
authority. What number of yards are wound, every circuit of the wheel, no
man can tell, nor is the number open to calculation.
The wheel revolves about twice in a minute. Nor is the superb fire-engine, which blazes in description, any more than a common stove, which
warmed one corner of that large building, and left the others to starve ;
but the defect is now supplied by fire-places. The regulator is a peg in the
master-wheel, which strikes a small bell every revolution near it is a pendulum, which vibrates about fifty times in a minute ; twenty-four returns of
the pendulum is the medium velocity of the wheel. Although there are a

liO

Life of William Hulto/n.

There does not exist in man a thankfulness proportionate to
the long enjoyment of a valuable favour; but a regret at the loss
equal to its magnitude and the length of its possession.
I became a favourite of two of the clerks, and many of the
children, owing, perhaps, to my being the least infant among
infants.
We were the only family of Dissenters connected with the
One of the clerks wished to make me a convert to the
mill.
Establishment, and threw out the lure of a halfpenny every
This purchased me; and my
Sunday I went to church.
This
father, being a moderate man, winked at the purchase.
.proves an assertion of Sir Robert Walpole, "That every man
has his price." However, none could be much lower than
mine.
One Sunday I was discovered in a remote pew playing at
push-pin. My patron, the next morning had too much good
nature to punish me or withhold his favour, but applied a more
effectual remedy.
He played at push-pin under my own eye,
vast number of parts, any one of which may be stopped and separated at
pleasure, yet the whole, extending through five large rooms, is one regular
machine, which moves and stops together. Every minute part is attended
with two wheels, one of which turns the other ; if you separate the two
the last stops of course while the former moves gently on.
The raw silk is brought in hanks or skeins called slips, and would take
five or six days in winding off, though kept moving ten hours a day. Some
are the produce of Persia; others of Canton, coarse and in small slips;
§ome are from Piedmont : these are all of a yellowish colour; and some are
from China, perfectly white. The work passes through three different enThough
gines; one to wind, the second to twist, and the third to double.
the thread is fine it is an accumulation of many. The workman's care is
chiefly to unite, by a knot, a thread that breaks; to take out the burs and
uneven parts, some of which are little bags, fabricated by the silk-worm as
a grave for itself when nature inspires the idea of leaving the world, the bags
are neatly closed up and hung to a thread as the last efforts towards its own
funeral; they generally moulder to a darkish dust, sometimes the worms are
The threads are
totally gone, but I have frequently taken them out alive.
continually breaking, and to tie them is principally the business of children,
whose fingers are nimble. The machine continually turns a round bobbin,
or small block of wood, which draws the thread from the slip while exThe moment the thread
panded upon a swift, suspended on a centre.
breaks the swift stops. One person commands from twenty to sixty threads.
If many cease at the same time to turn it amounts to a fault, and is succeeded by punishment. From the fineness of the materials, the ravelled
state of the slips and bobbins, and the imprudence of children, much
waste is made, which is another motive of correction; and when correction
is often inflicted it steels the breast of the inflictor."

Life of William Hutton.

III

and with a tolerable share of grimace, which brought the laugh
of the whole room upon me.
Entering the gates of the mill at noon, a strong wind blew
off my hat, which rolled before me into the Derwent. I could
have gone swifter than the hat, but knew I should acquire a
velocity that would have run me into the river, which being
deep, I had lost my life.
In distress, I travelled by its side,
the whole length of the building, but it continued just out of
my reach. I mourned its loss the whole afternoon, as well as
dreaded the consequence.
My master informed the chief governor,, who ordered him
I was asked
to take me to a hatter, and purchase another.
whether I would have a plain band or one with a silver tassel?
What child refuses finery ? I chose the latter, and became the
envy of the mill.
Christmas holidays were attended with snow followed by a
sharp frost.
A thaw came on in the afternoon of the 27th,
but in the night the ground was again caught by a frost, which
glazed the streets. I did not awake the next morning till daylight
seemed to appear. I rose in tears, for fear of punishment, and
went to my father's bedside to ask what was o'clock ? "He
believed six ?" I darted out in agonies, and, from the bottom
of Full Street to the top of Silk Mill Lane,f not 200 yards, I fell
nine times ! Observing no lights in the mill, I knew it was an
early hour, and that the reflection of the snow had deceived
me. Returning, it struck two. As I now went with care I fell
but twice.
[Remarkably fond of fruit, but unable to purchase it, my
mother was obliged to conceal her stock, for fear of depredation. She had bought a quantity of apples, and hid them, as
she thought, out of the reach of my ken; but few eyes are
more watchful than those of a longing child. Opening her
store for use, when a few days had elapsed, she was astonished
to find they had all vanished except two small ones. Her
good nature, however, excused and concealed the fault, which
my father's remembrance of a similar fault of his own would
not have induced him to pardon, had he been apprized of it.]
SThis was Mr. Thomas Bennett, who was clerk and manager of the
silk-mills for Sir Thomas Lombe.
+ Full Street runs from Queen Street to the Market Place, at the back
of All Saints' Church; Silk Mill Lane runs from Full Street to the old
silk-mill.

I 2

Life of William Hulton.
1732.

Going to the execution of Hewitt. and Rosamond,* I could
not get over the steps at the brook, and the crowd was more
These two persons were
* John Hewitt and Rosamond Ollerenshaw.
hanged in Derby for poisoning Hannah, the wife of John Hewitt, one of
the culprits. They were both executed in their shrouds, and a remarkable
sermon preached to them by the Rev. Mr. Lockett two days before their
execution. William Hutton, in his "History of Derby," thus narrates the
circumstances of this extraordinary affair. "John Hewitt was a butcher,
about thirty, married about seven years, was blessed with one daughter,
and resided in Stepping Lane; but he wanting in that regard for his wife
which is requisite for happiness, and size that prudence which is necessary
to secure his affection, they lived upon ill terms. The same conduct which
at first diminishes love, will in time annihilate it. This was the case with
our unhappy couple. He treated her with neglect, with violence, and a
diminution of sustenance; and she sought relief in intoxication. Eleanor
Beare was a handsome woman, about the same age, with an education superior to her rank, and was mistress of that persuasive eloquence
which insensibly wins over the hearer to her side. She kept a paltry
public house, the White Horse, nearly opposite the present jail,
But though she had a cipher husin the neighbourhood of Hewitt.
band, Ebenezer Beare, yet, as he bore no weight in the family, he was
never mentioned; neither had he any more influence over her than a mouse
over a cat, so that the residence always went by the name of Mrs.
Beare's. She was remarkably expert at procuring qualifications for the
men; an exit for those women who were troublesome wives; and abortion
for those who were not.
" With this singular couple of opposite character lived a harmless girl,
Rosamond Ollerenshaw, who, under such an accomplished tutoress, could
not be long either ignorant or innocent.
" Hewitt and his wife frequented this house separately, while Mrs. Beare
appeared the friend of both. He was pitied as groaning under the hated
A criminal conwife; and she as starving under a tyrannical husband.
nexion was supposed, and perhaps with truth, between him and both
The mistress being a wife could have no farther
mistress and maid.
expectations of John; but the maid had; however it was determined
Her
between the parties that Mrs. Hewitt must quit the world.
famished condition exciting the supposed tenderness of Mrs. Beare, she inby the mistress, but
vited her to eat some pancakes; these were mixed
fried and served up by the maid; and in them was infused a quantity of
arsenic, that in three hours operated in death. This happened on Saturday. The surgeons opened the body; suspicion fell where it ought; the
town was in a tumult; and all the parties were committed on Sunday
night.
" It is probable Hewitt had an affection for Rosamond; for at their
trial, when he found he could not be saved himself, he endeavoured to save
her; the judge having asked her whether Mrs. Beare was privy to the
poison or ordered her to administer it, John trod upon her toe that she
might tell the truth and save herself, but she unfortunately mistook the

Life of William Hutton.

Ir3

inclined to push me in than assist me. My father accidentally
came, handed me over, and moralized upon the melancholy
subject.
hint for its reverse, and answered ' no ;' by which she saved the life of her
mistress and lost her own. While the two criminals under sentence attended divine service at St. Peter's, John rendered her every civility.
Heavily ironed and half-dead with the apprehension of her approaching
fate, she could scarcely rise from her knees, when he took her round the
waist in the face of a crowded church and tenderly raised her. They
walked to the place of execution, he in a suit of dark grey with black
cuffs and trimmings; she in a drab gown and hat which nearly covered her
face. I think she hung upon his arm. At the end of their, dreadful
journey they both stripped and appeared in their shrouds. She, unable to
stand, rested upon the halter after being tied up, and expired before the
cart moved. He was pitied, but she lamented.
"Though Mrs. Beare was acquitted, the world was well convinced that
she was the wicked authoress of that mischief by which three people had
recently lost their lives ; they were therefore solicitous to take hers.
For this purpose several indictments were preferred against her at the
next assizes. But, though her crimes were of an atrocious nature, and
sufficiently blackened by the counsel, yet, being unknown to the law,
except by the vague name of 'misdemeanors,' it had not provided an
adequate punishment. This wholesale dealer in human destruction was
only sentenced to stand two market days in the pillory, and sustain three
years' imprisonment. I saw her, August 18, 1732, with an easy air, ascend
the hated machine, which overlooked an enraged multitude. All the
apples, eggs, and turnips that could be bought, begged, and stolen, were
directed at her devoted head. The stagnate kennels were robbed of their
contents, and became the cleanest part of the street. The pillory, being
out of repair, was unable to hold a woman in her prime, whose powers
were augmented by necessity, she released herself, and, jumping among the
crowd, with the resolution and agility of an Amazon, ran down the Morlege,
being pelted all the way; new kennels produced new ammunition, and she
appeared a moving heap of filth. With difficulty they re-mounted her, and
I saw the exasperated brother of the unfortunate Rosamond pull her with
violence into the pillory by the hair. A human being in distress excites
commiseration, whatever is the cause. Her punishment exceeded death.
By the time they had fixed her the hour expired, and she was carried
to prison, an object which none cared to touch. The next Friday she
appeared again, not as a young woman, but as an old one, ill, swelled, and
decrepit-she seemed to have advanced thirty years in one week. The
keeper, suspecting some finesse from the bulk of her head, took off ten
or twelve coverings, among which was a pewter plate, fitted to the head, as
a guard against the future storm. He tossed it among the crowd, and
left no covering but the hair. The pillory being made stronger, and herself
being weaker, she was fixed for the hour, where she received the severe
peltings of the mob, and they her groans and her prayers. She afterwards
sustained the three years' imprisonment, recovered her health, her spirit,
and her beauty, and at her enlargement was preceded by a band of music.
She died in the meridian of life."
In December, 1735, this wretched woman, "Eleanor Beare, alias MerI

114

Life of William Hidon.

Assisted in the rejoicings at the silk-mill, owing to Government granting Sir Thomas Lombe 14,000oo. in consideration of
their not renewing his patent.
Pouring some bobbins out of one box into another, the cogs
of the engine caught the box in my hand. The works in all
the five rooms began to thunder, crack, and break to pieces;
a universal cry of "Stop mills" ensued. All the violent
powers of nature operated within me. With the strength of a
madman I wrenched the box from the wheel; but alas, the
mischief was done. I durst not show my face, nor retreat to
dinner till every soul was gone. Pity in distress was not found
within those walls.
It is uncommon for depression to continue upon the infant
mind. In my way home I saw a man intoxicated, playing a
variety of most foolish tricks, highly diverting to the company.
Had my spirits been but moderately affected I should have
laughed most heartily; but they were too far sunk. Sorrow
and rejoicing operated against each other. I saw the wonderful
feats performed by Cadman, in flying from the top of All Saints'
steeple to the bottom of St. Michael's.*
During the Christmas holidays my mother sent me for some
In the joyous mood of childhood I tossed up the
tobacco.
halfpenny till I lost it in the dirt beyond redemption. Returning, my mother upbraided me, when I imprudently replied,
" You should not have sent me." That word proved my bane.

-released

after her three years' imriman," who had then only just been
prisonment, " was again committed to her old quarters, on suspicion of
having received stolen goods," and in August, 1736, she was tried and
convicted of a misdemeanor, and sentenced to one year's imprisonment, and
to " find securities for three more years."
*" The famous ' Gillenoe, the Frenchman' (or Cadman), flew down a
rope (October 28, 1732) from the top of All Saints' Church steeple to St.
a -distance of 150 yards upon the
Michael's Church, in Derby, which
base. He performed the same (though in a very high wind) with great
after which he went up the rope again, acting the tailor, shoedexterity;
minaker, &c., and showing several diverting postures, and thenir returned
with great swiftness, sounding a trumpet and firing a pistol, to the great
surprise and no less satisfaction of the spectators, who were very numerous.
The following day, being Friday, about two in the afternoon, for the diversion and entertainment of the country and others who had not witnessed
this famous artist's performances, he designs to fly down twice and up once,
and will divert the spectators with beating a drum as he goes up, and
flourishing of colours." See Mr. Hutton's account of the rage for flying,

was

under date of 1734.

Life

of William Hutton.

115

She informed my father, who gave me the most severe thrashing
I ever received from him. He broke a walking-stick, the fragments of which, after the battle was over, I began to splice
together with a string for my own use.
1733.

The year began to increase, and my calamities with it. My
mother brought forth a son, Samuel. During her lying-in,
being hurt at seeing the nurse unhandy, she would do the work

herself, and rinsing clothes in cold water brought her to the
I
grave five weeks after her delivery (at the age of forty-one).
returned from the mill at noon, on Friday, March the 9 th,
when Nanny Ease, my mother's friend, accosted me with,
"Don't cry, you
I burst into tears.
" Your mother's gone."
will soon go yourself." This remark did not add to my comfort. My father said, "You have lost an excellent mother, and
I a wife."
A few days after her death, he declined housekeeping, sold
up, and spent the money, took lodgings for himself and three
children, with a widow, who had four of her own.
My mother gone, my father at the alehouse, and I among
strangers, my life was forlorn.
I was almost without a home,
nearly without clothes, and experienced a scanty cupboard. At
one time I fasted from breakfast one day till noon the next,
and even then, dined only upon flour and water boiled into an
I was also afflicted with the chincough and
hasty pudding.
with boils.
My dear little sister Ann, three years old, was brought to the
My brother Samuel, three
grave merely from want of care.
months old, was sent to Mackworth, two miles off, where he
was carefully nursed, and where I often visited him.
In August I saw, upon Sinfin Moor,' a horse-race for the
first time.
Sinfin Moor is a few miles from Derby. The races were formerly held
on this Moor, until the race-course on the Siddals, now replaced by those on
the Nottingham Road, were formed. These races in H utton's days were
very fashionable, and well attended. The following is a contemporary
account of the races on Sinfin Moor which he attended in 1733. "Derby
Races on Sinfin Moor. The plates, matches, &c., are as follows :-On
Monday, August 13th, a match between Colonel Gerey's grey mare
Cassandra, and Mr. Philip Barnes's black mare, Moll Hackabout, for one
hundred guineas a side, one heat, eight miles, to carry twelve stone. The
52

i

i6

- Life of William Hutton.

[Though my father was neither young, being 42 ; nor hand=some, having lost an eye; nor very sober, for he spent all he
could get ; nor very clean, from the oily trade of a wool-comber;
nor without shackles, having in the whole five children, yet the
women, of various descriptions, courted his smiles, and were
much inclined to pull caps for him.
On my birthday at night my father treated us with a quart
of twopenny beer; and observed, that the life of man was
divided into seven stages of ten years each, and that I had now
completed the first.]
1734.
This year kindled a violent election flame, which burnt
vehemently in the county of Derby.
Drinking, fighting,
cursing, injuring, animosity, and murder, were the result; nor
is it a wonder that a thousand evils should arise, when the
The
process of any plan of moment is radically bad.
same day five pounds in money, for horses, &c.; heats, four miles. Wednesday, August 15th, on Foldbrook Course, within a mile ofDerby, a plate of five
pounds' value, for ponies; heats, two miles. Thursday, August 16th, on
the said course, a purse of ten guineas, given by the Duke of Devonshire,
for hunters ; heats, four miles. A ball at the Assembly-room on Monday
night, and another at the Virgins' Inn on Tuesday night." "August 16,
1733. On Monday last, the great match of one hundred guineas a side
between Colonel Gerey's mare and Mr. Barnes's mare was run for on
Sinfin Moor; one heat, eight miles, which was won by the latter. There
was very good sport, and the concourse of people was very great. There
was abundance of coaches, several of them drawn by six horses, and
'twas tho't to be as large a meeting as was at the last Nottingham races."
Horse-races was not the only amusement on the course, as will be seen
by the following curious old advertisement :-" A main of Cocks will be
fought at Mr. James Lovett's Booth, on Sinfin Moor, at the sign of the
Crown, betwixt the Peak gentlemen and Derby gentlemen, to show and
weigh forty-eight cocks of each side, for two guineas a battle, and twenty
the Main, or Odd Battle. To fight in Silver Heels. To fight on Monday
and Wednesday, the Race Days. Feeders: For Peak, Cock Abraham ;
for Derby, Joseph Martin. A Pair of Cocks will be on the Pit as soon as
"Prize Fight.-On Thursday, the 7th of
the race is over each day."
September, a Battle will be fought at the abovesaid Booth, where a stage
is erected on purpose, betwixt the noted William Darte, of London,
and Mr. William Turner, of Leicestershire, for two hundred guineas. Two
Mains of Cocks will be fought the same day."
Sinfin Moor is ialso immortalized in the old ballad of the Derby Ram :"The tanner that tanned its hide, sir,
Would never be poor any more;
For when he had tanned and retched it,
It covered all Sinfin Moor."

Life of Williamn Hutton.

117

contending parties were Sir Nathaniel Curzon, father to the
present Lord Scarsdale ; John Harpur, son to the then baronet,
on one side; and [Lord Charles] Cavendish on the other.
Harpur was the unsuccessful candidate.
Cavendish and
Curzon were the successful candidates."
In October, my sister paid us a visit from Swithland,
whom we had not seen for five years. She was approaching
fifteen, and appeared a handsome, tall, straight girl. I was
struck with the singularity of her departure. She was to attend
the Leicester waggon at five in the morning. My father called
her to his bedside, gave her a kiss, and two shillings, wished
her -well, but never stirred a foot to conduct her, but suffered
her to go alone, though the morning was dark.
The rage for flying had continued two years in full force; I
caught that rage, but not bing able to procure a rope, I and my
companions laid hold of a scaffold-pole in the absence of the
workmen, who were erecting a house in Amen Corner, south of
All Saints. We placed one end in the churchyard, and the
other in the chamber-window, and flew over the wall. We soon
made the pole as bright as a looking-glass, but reduced our raiment to rags. To this day I never pass the place without a
glance at the window.
A few young men, adepts in the art of flying, procured the
* The candidates in this memorable election were Lord Charles
Cavendish (gentleman of the Bedchamber to Frederick, Prince of Wales),
fourth son of the second Duke of Devonshire, brother to William,
third Duke of Devonshire, and uncle to the then fourth Duke of
Devonshire; Sir Nathaniel Curzon, of Kedleston, Bart., one of whose sons,
Sir Nathaniel Curzon, was created Baron Scarsdale, and another, Assheton
Curzon, was created Viscount Curzon, and was father of the first Earl
Howe; and Henry Harpur, Esq., son of Sir John Harpur, Bart., of Calke
Abbey (afterwards Sir Henry Harpur), by his wife, Catherine, daughter
and coheiress of Lord Crewe of Steene. The election was a very closely
contested one, and resulted in the return of Lord Charles Cavendish
and Sir N. Ctirzon. The election ended on the 23rd of May, 1734, " after
which an outrageous mob assembled before the County Hall, in order to
oppose Lord Charles Cavendish from being chaired, whereby a great deal of
mischief ensued, several being wounded on both sides, a great many
windows broken, and one man, endeavouring to prevent the said mob
entering the gates of the Hall-yard, had a stick (supposed to be sharp
at one end) tluhrust with such force near one of his eyes, into his head, that
he dyed yesterday about eleven o'clock, of the said wound ; and this day
the Coroner's jury sat on the said body, but have not yet given in their
verdict, having adjourned to to-morrow morning for a further enquiry. The
two members were not chaired till Tuesday at eleven o'clock."

1 8

Life of William Hutton.

consent of Sir Nathaniel Curzon, to perform at Kedleston for
They fastened one end of the
the amusement of the family.
rope to the top of the hall, the other in the park; but the
unlucky performer, instead of flying over the river, fell in,
blasted his character, and instead of regaling upon beef and
This gave a check
ale, the whole bevy sneaked off privately.
to the art ; but when the man, boy, wheelbarrow, and ass flew
down, the tragedy put an end to the art of flying."
* The "rage for flying " here again spoken of by Hutton became a
complete mania in and around Derby at this period, and boys and men
alike might be seen climbing up, and flying down, ropes fixed at different
altitudes on house-tops, and in streets, and gardens, and fields. Hutton's
own account of this " rage " is the most interesting account remaining. It
is follows :-" There are characters who had rather amuse the world, at
as
the hazard of their lives, for a slender and precarious pittance, than follow
an honest calling for an easy subsistence. A small figure of a man,
seemingly composed of spirit and gristle, appeared in October (1732) to
entertain the town by sliding down a rope. One end of this was to be
fixed at the top of All Saints' steeple, and the other at the bottom of
St. Michael's (see page 112, ante), a horizontal distance of eighty yards,
which formed an inclined plane, extremely steep. A breastplate of wood,
with a groove to fit the rope, and his own equilibrium, were to be his
security while sliding down upon his belly with his arms and legs extended.
He could not be more than six or seven seconds in this airy journey,
in which he fired a pistol and blew a trumpet. The velocity with which he
flew raised a fire by friction, and a bold stream of smoke followed him.
He performed this wonderful exploit three successive days, in each of
which he descended twice, and marched up once; the latter took him more
than an hour, in which he exhibited many surprising achievements, as
sitting unconcerned with his arms folded, lying across the rope upon his
back, and then upon his belly and his hams, blowing the trumpet, swinging
round, hanging by the chin, the hand, the toe, &c. The rope being
too long for art to tighten, he might be said to have danced upon the slack.
Though he succeeded at Derby, yet, in exhibiting soon after at Shrewsbury,
he fell and lost his life. Feats of activity are sure to catch the younger part
of the world. No amusement was seen but the rope ; walls, posts, trees,
and houses were mounted for the pleasure of flying down ; if a straggling
scaffold-pole could be found it was reared for the convenience of flying;
nay, even cats, dogs, and things inanimate, were applied, in a double sense,
to the rQpe. This flying rage was not cured till August, 1734, when
another diminutive figure appeared, much older than the first, his coat
was in deshabille, his shirt and his shoes the worse for wear, his hat worth
threepence, exclusive of the band, which was of packthread, bleached by
the weather, and a black string supplied the place of buttons to his
waistband. He wisely considered thadt if his performances did not exceed
the other's he might as well stay at home, if he had one. His rope,
therefore, from the same steeple (All Saints') extended to the bottom of
St. Mary's Gate, more than twice the former length. He was to draw a

L fe of William Huottn.

119

1735.

This summer was so dry that the water would scarcely turn
the wheels ; which, giving us children play, was very agreeable.
I visited Bredsall Moor," as all the country did, a warren,
and on fire for many weeks. My journey to Mackworth,T- to
see my little brother, continued, who, being prudently attended,
became a charming boy. How much depends upon nursing
and how few know how to nurse !
The colony of Georgia, in its infant state, invited many
emigrants under General Oglethorpe. They produced organzine silk, and sent it to England.
It was good, but a bad
colour.
The General, Sir Thomas Lombe, and the trustees,
wheelbarrow after him, in which was a boy of thirteen. After this
surprising performance, an ass was to fly down, armed as before with a
breastplate, and at each foot a lump of lead, about half a hundredweight.
The man, the barrow, and its contents, arrived safe at the end of their
journey. When the vast multitude turned their eyes towards the ass,
which had been braying several days at the top of the steeple for food-but,
like many a lofty courtier for a place, brayed in vain-the slackness of the
rope, and the great weight of the animal and his apparatus, made it seem, a
setting off, as if he was falling perpendicularly. The appearance was
tremendous. About twenty yards before he reached the gates of the County
Hall the rope broke. From the velocity acquired by the descent, he
bore down all before him. A whole multitude was overwhelmed. Nothing
was heard but dreadful cries, nor seen but confusion ; legs and arms went
to-destruction. In the dire calamity the ass which maimed others was
unhurt himself, having a pavement of soft bodies to roll over. No lives
were lost. As the rope broke near the top, it brought down both
chimneys and people at the other end of the street. This dreadful calamity
put an end to the art of flying."
SBreadsall Moor was at the time when Hutton wrote a large unenclosed
tract of land lying between two and three miles from Derby on its north-east
side. It was enclosed by Act of Parliament in 1815-16, and was 1461 acres
in extent.
j- Mackworth is a small village and parish about two miles from Derby
on the west. Of it Hutton himself says, "This place was probably, five
hundred years ago, the property of the ancient family of Touchet, Lord
Audley, who, being a man of the sword and of great wealth, retained
several esquires in his service. To a favourite follower who had distinguished himself under his banners at Poictiers in 1356 he gave the manor
of Mackworth. This gentleman built a castle for his residence, and assumed
the name of the village. His successors continued there for some ages ;
but in the Civil Wars of Charles the First, that melancholy contest which
was to determine whether a man's property ought to be directed by himself or his sovereign, this castle was destroyed. It is now in ruins." The
gateway of Mackworth Castle, an extremely picturesque object, is still
standing not far from the church.

120

Life of William Hutto;n.

waited upon Queen Caroline with a specimen, who ordered a
gown and petticoat. It was sent to Derby, and I was employed in the manufactory. Thus an insignificant animal was
servant to a Knight, and, though nearly naked himself, assisted
in clothing a Queen.,

I736.
I was now turned twelve. Life began to open.
My situation at the mill was very unfavourable.
Richard Porter, my
master, had made a wound on my back with his cane. It
grew worse. In a succeeding punishment, the point of his cane
struck the wound, which gave exquisite pain, and brought it to
a state that a mortification was apprehended. My father was
* James Edward Oglethorpe, here alluded to by Hutton, was born in
1698, studied at Oxford, and served in the Austrian army under Prince
Eugene, in which service he proved himself a brave soldier. Returning to
England, he, having much love for literature, became the associate of Pope,
Swift, and other leading authors of his time. Having formed the project
for founding a new British colony in America, he, in 1732, set sail from
Gravesend, along with a number of workmen and their families, and in
I1733, by having built some houses, &c., founded the colony of Georgia,
the houses erected by him being the origin of the afterwards important
town of Savannah. Having founded his colony and done his good work
there, Oglethorpe returned to England, and received promotion in the
army, in which, at the time of his death, he held a commission as general.
General Oglethorpe, while serving in Savoy under Prince Eugene, when
only about fifteen years of age, was sitting at a table with a Prince of
Wurtemberg. The prince took up a glass of wine, and, by a fillip, made
some of it fly in Oglethorpe's face. H-ere was a sore dilemma. To have
challenged him instantly might have fixed a quarrelsome character upon
the young soldier; to have taken no notice of it might have been considered
as cowardice. Oglethorpe, therefore, keeping his eye upon the prince, and
smiling all the time, as if he took what his highness had done in jest, said,
" Mon prince, that's a good joke, but we do it much better in England,"
and threw a whole glass of wine in the prince's face. An old general who
sat by, said, " I1a bien fait, mon prince, vous l'avez commence," and thus
all ended in good humour. In after life Oglethorpe was one of the most
intimate and most esteemed friends of Dr. Johnson, of Oliver Goldsmith,
and of other celebrities, the doctor, with Goldsmith, Boswell, and others,
commonly dining with him. On one of these occasions "he urged General
Oglethorpe to give the world his life. He said, 'I know no man whose
life would be more interesting. If I were furnished with materials I should
be very glad to write it.'" He afterwards communicated to Boswell "a
number of particulars" concerning his life, of which he made notes.
Oglethorpe visited on various occasions his colony of Georgia, and
defended it against the Spaniards. He wrote " An Account of the Colony
of Georgia," an "Essay on Plantations; or, Facts Relating to Colonies,"
and contributed an account of native Indians to the Gentleman's Magazine.
On his second voyage to Georgia he was accompanied by John Wesley and

Life of William Hutton.

121

advised to bathe me in Kedleston water. * A cure was effected,
and I yet carry the scar.
An agreeable old woman, of the name of Gell, from Wirksworth, came to lodge where we did. She had been a schoolmistress; made many entertaining remarks, and promised us
"lads we should be the better for her coming;" nor did she
disappoint us.
The fore-lap of my shirt appearing jagged, as if eaten by
mice, I was called to account by a jury of women; was ashamed
and astonished. They seemed to suspect that I carried teeth
about me exclusive of those in my head, and were in no way
inclined to give up the inquiry. I wept, which only increased
suspicion. It appeared, however, before a strict search took
place, that having lost the button of my waistband I was
obliged to substitute a twisted wire, the ends of which had
jagged the threads of the linen. The prying ladies in great
expectation were much disappointed.
his brother Charles Wesley. He was a true and noble philanthropist, living
to do good, and dying blest by all. Pope wrote of him"Or driven by strong benevolence of soul,
Will fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole;"
and Thomson" Lo ! swarming southward on rejoicing suns,
Gay colonies extend; the calm retreat
Of undeserved distress, the better home
Of those whom bigots chase from foreign lands,
Not built on rapine, servitude, and woe;
And in their turn some petty tyrant's prey ;
But, bound by social freedom, firm they rise ;
Such as, of late, an Oglethorpe has form'd,
And crowding round, the charm'd Savannahs sees."
General Oglethorpe died in 1735 in his eighty-eighth year, and was
buried at Cranham, in Essex. His colony of Georgia, under his energy
and determination, produced silk, but its production was afterwards
abandoned, and cotton substituted. It was of the production of this colony,
founded by this estimable man, that the specimen submitted to the Queen
by Oglethorpe and Lombe was made ; and it was of this silk the "petticoat and gown" ordered by the Queen to be made was manufactured, and
upon which the "nearly naked" Hutton worked.
* This was a famous medicinal spring in Kedleston Park, the seat of Sir
Nathaniel Curzon, the father of Lord Scarsdale. The baths still remain in
the park, and are occasionally used. During the past century, both at the
time when Hutton wrote and afterwards, the Kedleston waters were much
drank, as well as used for bathing, and were highly esteemed for their
curative properties.

r22

Lfe of William Hiuton.
L

My uncle and aunt Fletcher' paid us a visit from Herefordshire, and stayed a week at my uncle's at Nottingham. On
Friday in Whitsun week, my father, brother Thomas, and I,
met them there, and returned on Monday.
Nothing could-equal the pleasure of this journey. I ever
had an inclination to visit fresh places. My wish was gratified.
I brought home such a description as could not be expected
from my age. Every attendant looked up, and I took the lead
in conversation. This was the only time I saw my aunt. I
thought her bulky, handsome, proud, and sensible. " Billy,"
said she, " it is not good manners to sit in the house with your
hat on." I felt the reproof, which I never forgot.
1737.

I was now in my last year of servitude at the mill, and was
advancing towards fourteen. It therefore became requisite to
point out some mode of future life. My father often declared
that none of his sons should ever be brought up to the woolcombing business, his own; or to the stocking-frame, his
brother's. As I knew his dilatory temper, I was afraid when
the time came I should have a trade to seek. I chose that of
This he encouraged. Time still advanced, but
a gardener.
nothing done. A stockinger in Derby solicited to have me.
My father replied, " I have refused my own brother."
Nicholas Richardson, an old honest Scotsman, intimate with
both father and uncle, took me aside in August, and used all
his rhetoric to induce me to serve my uncle. He, however,
was serving him. At the same time my father assured me,
"Gardening was a slavish trade;" that is, he had no inclination
to stir. I was induced to consent [to the proposal of Nicholas.]
I cut, with a penknife, upon one of the rails of the seventh
which I saw in 1790, fifty-three years
mill above, W. H.
after. t
Christmas arfived, when I must quit that place, for which I
had a sovereign contempt : which many hundreds had quitted

1737,

* This was his father's only sister, Catherine Hutton, married to Mr.
"and retired to his estate at Standbach, in the
Samuel Fletcher in
county of Hereford, where she enjoyed affluence and happiness. She died
of an asthma in 1768, at the age of sixty-nine, leaving two sons and two

1726,

daughters."
t And again in i8o8,

Life of William Hutton.

123

during my stay, but not one with regret; a place most curious
and pleasing to the eye, but which gave me a seven years'
heartache. No friendships are formed there but such as the
parties are willing to break. The attendants are children of
nature corrupted by art. What they learn in the mill, they
ought to unlearn out. A vulgar multitude is not destined to
improve. "
1738.
I now quit my occupation, my father, brothers, friends, and
connexions, also the place of my nativity, for everything new
at Nottingham, where a scene opens for thirteen years. I
found a generous uncle, a close, sneaking aunt; he a serious
religionist, she as serious an hypocrite; two apprentices, one a
rogue, the other a greater.
I had just finished one seven years' servitude, and was
* In this year, 1737, Hutton thus speaks of the visit to Derby, and the
remarkable performances, of Thomas Topham :-" It is curious to observe
Nature step out of her common road and enter the wonderful. To march
in her usual track excites no admiration, but when, wanton in her play, she
forms an O'Brien of eight feet, a Boroulaski of three, an Admirable
Crichton with every accomplishment, or a John Crosland with none, it
raises astonishment. We learnt from private accounts, well attested, that
Thomas Topham, a man who kept a public-house at Islington, performed
surprising feats of strength, as breaking a broomstick of the first magnitude
by striking it against his bare arm, lifting two hogsheads of water, heaving
his horse over the turnpike-gate, carrying the beam of a house as a soldier
his firelock, &c. But, however belief might stagger, she soon recovered
herself when this second Samson appeared at Derby as a performer in
public, at a shilling each. Upon application to Alderman Cooper for leave
to exhibit, the magistrate was surprised. His appearance was like that
of other men ; he requested him to strip that he might examine whether he
was made like them, but he was found to be extremely muscular. What
were hollows under the arms and hams of others were filled up with ligaments in him. He appeared near five feet ten, turned of thirty, well made,
but nothing singular; he walked with a small limp. He had formerly laid
a wager, the usual decider of disputes, that three horses could not draw
him from a post which he should clasp with his feet, but the driver giving
them a sudden lash, turned them aside, and the unexpected jerk had broke
his thigh.
The performances of this wonderful man, in whom were united the
strength of twelve, were rolling up a pewter dish of seven pounds as a man
rolls up a sheet of paper, holding a pewter quart at arm's length and
squeezing the sides together like an egg-shell, lifting two hundredweight
with his little finger, and moving it gently over his head. The bodies he
touched seemed to have lost their powers of gravitation. He also broke a
rope, fastened to the floor, that would sustain twenty hundredweight; lifted
an oak table six feet long with his teeth, though half a hundredweight was

124

Life of William Hutton.

entering upon another. In the former I was welcome to the
food I eat, provided I could get it. But now it was more
plentiful, yet I should be grudged every meal I tasted. She
kept a constant eye upon the food and the feeder. This curb
galled my mouth to that degree that ever since I have eat at
another's table with fear. The impressions received in early
life are astonishing.
This loving couple agreed admirably well. The reason was
plain; he submitted.
I was too young to have any concern in the terms of servitude, and my father too poor to lend assistance. A burden
was therefore laid upon me, which I afterwards found intolerable: that my over-work, without knowing whether I should
get any, must find me clothes.
My task was to be 5s. iod. a week, and the first week I
could reach that sum I should be gratified with 6d. ; but ever
after, should I fall short, or do over, the loss or profit must be
mine. I found it was the general practice of apprentices to
fall under the mark.
Things went on smiling, as all new concerns will, till Whitsuntide, when my uncle took me to Derby to see my friends.
hung to the extremity; a piece of leather was fixed to one end for his teeth
to hold, two of the feet stood upon his knees, and he raised the end with
the weight higher than that in his mouth. He took Mr. Chambers, vicar
of All Saints', who weighed twenty-seven stone, and raised him with one
hand. His head being laid on one chair and his feet on another, four
people, fourteen stone each, sat upon his body, which he heaved at pleasure.
He struck a round bar of iron, one inch diameter, against his naked arm,
and at one stroke bent it like a bow. Weakness and feeling seemed fled
together.
Being a master of music, he entertained the company with " Mad Tom."
I heard him sing a solo to the organ in St. Warburgh's Church, then the
only one in Derby, but though he might perform with judgment, yet the
voice, more terrible than sweet, scarcely seemed human. Though of a

pacific temper, and with the appearance of a gentleman, yet he was liable
to the insults of the rude. The hostler at the Virgin's Inn, where he
resided, h'aving given him disgust, he took one of the kitchen spits from the
mantelpiece and bent it round his neck like a handkerchief ; but as he did
not choose to tuck the ends in the hostler's bosom, the cumbrous ornament

excited the laugh of the company till he condescended to untie his iron
cravat. Had he not abounded with good-nature the men might have been
in fear for the safety of their persons, and the women for that of their pewter

shelves, as he could instantly roll up both. One blow with his fist would
for ever have silenced those heroes of the bear-garden, Johnson and
Mendoza."

Life of William Hutton.

125

A week prior to this I had arrived at my task, got the 6d., and
puffed away like a young winner. My brother, who was then
sixteen, had not found a trade, nor had there been any attempts
to find one for him. He must either be a despicable stockinger
or nothing. He followed us; and now my uncle had got two
of the three sons.
He who stretches his utmost powers to accomplish a point
in one week, will probably fall short the next. This was my
case. Instead of earning apparel with over-work, I ran in
arrears. At Christmas we took another trip to Derby, but my
uncle had not the good fortune to pick up another lad.*
1739.

I now got into what was called the fine tram,t and my weekly
task was 6s. 9d. Clothes came as sluggishly as food. I was
arrived at that age when the two sexes begin to look at each
other, consequently wish to please; and the most powerful way
to win is that of dress. This is a passport to the heart, a key
to unlock the passions and guide them in our favour. My
resources were cut off; my sun was eclipsed. Youth is the time
for dress; the time in which it is not only excusable, but laudable. I envied every new coat; I had the wish to win, but not
the power.
Perhaps there is not a human being but sooner or later feels,
in some degree, the passion of love. I was struck with a girl,
watched her wherever I could, pryed into her secret conduct
[and peeped through the chink of the window-shutter at night].
She lay near my heart eleven years; but I saw her every week,
never spoke to her in my whole life, nor was she ever apprized
of my passion.
My uncle and his friends being religionists, and the doctrine
of the Trinity, which had employed the public tongue and the
pen for seven years, not being determined, I was witness to
many disputes upon this dark point. Scripture, the source of
argument, seemed to support both sides; for each drew his
artillery from thence; consequently the dispute might be
* "I was present in 1738 at a conversation between two natives, when
one challenged the other to produce an instance in Derby of a house being
built upon a new foundation. The affirmative, I well remember, was not
proved, which shows that a very small, of rather no, increase attended it."
t Tram, a fine silk.

126

Li

of William Hullon.

carried on ad infinitum, and both find themselves where they
set out, only with this difference, it disjoints society and produces a shyness among friends. I could easily perceive the
contenders were willing to send each other to the devil. Besides, if a man wins, he gains nothing by winning, as it forms
no part of Christian practice. It may, in some measure, disguise truth; for, if I endeavour to persuade a man into my
opinion, either in religion or politics, it tends to confirm him in
his own. He instantly makes a side against me; nay, it even
confirms him in what he only doubted before. The utmost
length allowable is only to state reasons.
The lesser rogue of an apprentice ran way, and was never
heard of more; and the greater was sold, and ruined his
master.
1740
Was ushered in with the hard frost. Two or three frosts
have since occurred, which the world has thought as cold, or
nearly; but I remember them well, and can assure the reader
there has been nothing like it for severity. That frost was not
followed by thaw, but continued till the spring gradually wore
it away. But we are not to suppose the whole of the time intensely cold ; the greater part resembled other frosts.
On New-year's day fell a moderate snow, perhaps three
inches deep, and no more that winter; some of which I saw in
March. Many persons remarked that their breath was frozen
on the sheet. Mine never was ; for I lay wholly covered all
night, which I never could before or since. At the beginning
of the frost, which was the severest part, I wore a thin waistcoat, without a lining [and no coat].
The uncommon season was not the sole wonder of the day;
for my uncle and his wife had a sore quarrel; the only one in
my time. I understood she had struck him, which provoked
him beyond bounds. He made an attempt to punish her. I
stepped in by way of prevention, and with soothings effected
a peace. He afterwards seemed pleased, and she, in plain
terms, acknowledged the kindness. He was mild as a lamb,
but, when irritated, observed no bounds.
My uncle thought it necessary to keep up the routine of apprentices; and, as two were gone, a boy from Draycott, ten
He brought him on Saturday
miles off, was recommended.
night, but, by Monday morning, his mother could not rest,
"because he was either kidnapped or murdered," and sent the

Life of William Hulton.

127

father, vith positive orders " to bring him back, alive or dead,
if above ground." He entered the house, with sounds like the
roarings of a bull; and, in the Derbyshire dialect, cried,
"Where's th' lad ? I mun tak him bak ! I've lond i' th' feeld
woth fifty paund, I've thutty paund by ma, an I dunno owe
th' wold a shillin !"
My uncle looked disappointed, thought the fellow a fool, and
gave up the lad with a promise to return, after showing the
booby to his mother, which never happened.
Another apprentice was brought from Derby, Roper, who
proved surly and overbearing, ran away himself, and taught me.
He returned again, went into the army, and so good-bye.
The frost, followed by an untoward summer, brought on a
rise of provisions. It was considered by the mistress as almost
a sin to eat. I should have been an acceptable servant could
I have subsisted without.
1741.
It is an old remark, " What the mind is bent upon obtaining,
the hand seldom fails of accomplishing." I detested the frame,
as totally unsuitable to my temper, therefore produced no
more profit than necessity demanded. I made shift, however,
with a little over-work, and a little credit, to raise a genteel
suit of clothes, fully adequate to the sphere in which I moved.
The girls eyed me with some attention ; nay, I eyed myself as
much as any of them.
My sister came, whom I had not seen for seven years ; handsome, keen, and sensible. Her manner commanded respect.
Thus matters went on prosperously.
I was rising into
notice; a foundation was laid for a brighter day, when an unhappy quarrel between my uncle and I, upon a mere trifle,
caused me to run away, blasted my views, sunk me in the dust,
and placed me in a degrading point of view, from which I did
not recover for five years. This I shall faithfully relate from
"The History of a Week," a manuscript quarto in my son's
library, written thirty-eight years after, from memory, which I
shall literally transcribe.
THE HISTORY OF A WEEK IN 1741.

The week of the races is an idle one among the stockingers
at Nottingham. It was so with me. Five days had elapsed,
and I had done little more than the work of four.

I2 8

Life of William Huttlon.

My uncle, who always judged from the present moment,
supposed I should never return to industry, though I had lately
purchased a suit of clothes with my over-work, was angry at
my neglect, and observed, on Saturday morning, that if I did
not perform my task that day, he would thrash me at night.
Idleness, that had hovered over me five days, did not choose
to leave me the sixth. Night came.
I wanted one hour's
work.
I hoped my former conduct would atone for the
present. But he had passed his word, and a man does not
wish to break it. "You have not done the task I ordered !"
I was silent. " Was it in your power to have done it ?" Still
silent. He repeated again, " Could you have done it ?" As I
ever detested lying, I could not think of covering myself, even
from a rising storm, by so mean a subterfuge; for we both
knew I had done near twice as much. I therefore answered in
a low meek voice, " Icozuld." This fatal word, innocent in
itself, and founded upon truth, proved my destruction.
" Then," says he, " I'll make you." He immediately brought a
birch-beesom-steal, * of white hazel, and, holding it by the small
end, repeated his blows till I thought he would have broken
me to pieces. The windows were open, the evening calm, the
sky serene, and everything mild but my uncle. The sound of the
roar and of the stick penetrated the air to a great distance.
The neighbourhood turned out to inquire the cause; when,
after some investigation, it was said to be " Only Hutton
thrashing one of his lads."
Whether the crime and the
punishment were adequate, I leave to the reader. He afterwards told my father that he should not have quarrelled with
me but for that word. But let me ask what word could I have
substituted in its room, except I meant to equivocate ?
I was drawing towards eighteen, held some rank among my
acquaintance, made a small figure in dress, and was taken
notice of by the girls: therefore, though I was greatly hurt in
body, I was much more hurt in mind. Pride takes a very
early root in the heart, and never leaves us but with life. How
should I face those whom I had often laughed at, and whipped
with the rod of satire ?
The next day, July

morning as usual.

12,

1741, I went to Meeting in the

My uncle seemed sorry for what had passed,

* Beesom, a broom made of twigs of birch, or of heath.
stale, the handle, commonly made of hazel, as in this case.

"Steal,"

or

Life of William Hutton.

I29

and inclined to make matters up. At noon he sent me for
some fruit, and asked me to partake. I thanked him with a
sullen no. My wounds were too deep to be healed with cherries.
Standing by the palisades of the house, in a gloomy posture,
a female acquaintance passed by, and turning, with a pointed
sneer, said, "You were licked last night."
The remark stung
me to the quick. I had rather she had broken my head.
I had a fellow 'prentice, named Roper, bigger and older than
I, though he came two years after me. This opaque diabolical
body of ill-nature centred between my uncle and I, and eclipsed
that affection which gave pleasure to both. He staid with us
three years, then entered into the army, and I saw him no
more. The two years of my servitude, before he came, were
spent in great friendship with my uncle; and when he left, the
same friendship returned, and continued for life.
This lad had often solicited me to run away with him, and
had once brought me to consent.
I considered that my leaving my uncle would be a loss to him, for which I was very
sorry; and, if I told Roper my design, he would insist upon
I could not
going with me, which would double that loss.
bear the thought: therefore resolved to go alone, for which he
afterwards blamed me.
I put on my hat, as if going to Meeting, but privately slipped
up stairs till the family were gone. The whole house was open
Upon examining a glass in the beaufet, I
to my inspection.
found ten shillings. I took two and left the other eight.
After packing up my small stock of moveables, I was at a
loss how to get out of the house.
There was but one door,
which was locked, and they had the key.
I contrived, therefore, to get my chattels upon a wall, about eight feet high, in a
little back yard, climb up myself, drop them on the other side,
and jump down after them.
While this was transacting, an acquaintance passed by. I
imparted my design to him because it was not possible to hide
it, and enjoined him secrecy. He seemed to rejoice at my
scheme, or rather at my fall; for if I commit an error, and he
does not, he is the best of the two.
Figure to yourself a lad of seventeen, not elegantly dressed,
nearly five feet high, rather Dutch built, with a long narrow
bag of brown leather, that would hold about a strike," in
* Strike, a bushel (four pecks).
K

130

Life of William Hutton.

which was neatly packed up a new suit of clothes: also, a
white linen bag, which would hold about half as much, containing a sixpenny loaf of coarse blencon" bread; a bit of butter
wrapped in the leaves of an old copy-book; a new Bible, value
three shillings; one'shirt; a pair of stockings; a sun-dial;
and my best wig, carefully folded, and laid at top, that, by
The
lying in the hollow of the bag, it might not be crushed.
two ends of the bags being tied together, I slung them over my
left shoulder rather in the style of a cock-fighter. My best hat,
not being properly calculated for a bag, I had hung to the
button of my coat. With only two shillings in my pocket; a
spacious world before me, and no plan of operations.
If you can keep in the last twenty-one lines you will have a
view of me.
I gave back many a melancholy look, while every step set
me at a greater distance; and took, what I thought, an everlasting farewell of Nottingham.
I carried neither a light heart nor a light load; nay, there
was nothing light about me but the sun in the heavens and the
money in my pocket. I considered myself an outcast, an
exuberance in the creation, a being fitted to no purpose. At
ten, I arrived at Derby. The inhabitants were going to bed,
as if retreating from my society.
I took a view of my father's house, where I supposed all
at rest; but before I was aware, I perceived the door open,
and heard his foot not three yards from me. I retreated with
precipitation. How ill calculated are we to judge of events!
I was running from the last hand that could have saved me !
Adjoining the town is a close called Abbey Barns, the scene
of my childish amusements. Here I took up my abode upon
the cold grass, after a day's fatigue, in a damp place, with the
sky over my head, and the bags by my side. I need not say I
was a boy; this rash action proves it. The place was full of
cattle. The full breath of the cows half-asleep, the jingling of
the chains at the feet of the horses, and a mind agitated, were
ill calculated for rest.t
* Blencon, or Blencorn-i.e., Blend-corn, bread made of mixed corn,
rye and wheat.
.

Abbey Barns was originally a grange belonging to Darley Abbey.

The district is now formed into streets and built upon, but the name and
some of the old buildings remain.

Lie of William Huttoan.

131

I rose at four, July 13, starved, sore, and stiff; deposited my
bags under the fourth tree, covering them with leaves, while I
waited upon Warburgh's" bridge for my brother Sam, whom I
knew would go to the silk-mill at five. I told him I had
differed with mny uncle, had left him; intended for Ireland;
that he must remember me to my father, whom I should probably see no more. I had all the discourse to myself, for he did
not speak one word.
I arrived at Burton" the same morning, having travelled
twenty-eight miles, and spent nothing.
I was an economist
from my cradle; the character never forsook me. To this I
in some measure owe my present situation.
I ever had an inclination to examine towns and places.
Leaving my bags at a public house, I took a view of the place,
and, breaking into my first shilling, spent one penny as a
recompense for their care.
Arriving the same evening within the precincts of Lichfield,
I approached a barn where I intended to lodge; but, finding
the door shut, opened my parcels in the field, dressed, hid my
bags under a hedge, and took a view of the city for about two
hours, though very foot-sore.
Returning to the spot about nine, I undressed, bagged up
my things in decent order, and prepared for rest; but alas ! I
had a bed to seek. About a stone's cast from the place stood
another barn, which, perhaps, might furnish me with lodging.
I thought it needless to take the bags (while I examined the
place) as my stay would be very short.
The second barn yielding no relief, I returned in about ten
minutes. But what was my surprise when I perceived the bags
were gone! Terror seized me. I roared after the rascal, but
might as well have been silent, for thieves seldom come at a
call. Running, raving, and lamenting, about the fields and
roads, employed some time. I was too much immersed in
They refused to flow. I
distress to find relief in tears.
described the bags, and told the affair to all I met. I found
pity, or seeming pity, from all, but redress from none.
I saw
my hearers dwindle with the twilight; and, by eleven o'clock
found myself left in the open street, to tell my mournful tale to
the silent night.

+

* St. Werburgh's.
K2

Burton-upon-Trent.

132

Life of William Hulon.

It is not easy to place a human being in a more distressed
situation. My finances were nothing. A stranger to the world,
No employ, nor likely to procure any.
and the world to me.
No food to eat, or place to rest. All the little property I had
upon earth taken from me: nay, even hole, that last and
constant friend of the unfortunate, forsook me. I was in a
more wretched condition than he who has nothing to lose. An
eye may roll over these lines when the hand that writes them
shall be still. May that eye move without a tear! I sought
repose in the street, upon a butcher's block.
July I4, I enquired, early in the morning, after my property,
but to as little purpose as the night before. Among others, I
accosted a gentleman in a wrought night-cap, plaid gown, and
morocco slippers. I told him my distress was alarming, and
begged he would point out some mode of employ that would
enable me to exist. He was touched with compassion. I
found it was easy to penetrate his heart, but not his pocket.
" It is market-day at Walsall ?" says he, "yonder people are
going there; your attention upon them may be successful."
I immediately put his advice in practice, and found myself in
the company of a man and his servant with a waggon-load of
carrots; and also an old fellow and his grandson with a horseload of cherries. We continued together till the end of the
journey: but I think neither pity nor success were of our
party.
As my feet were not used to travel, they were become
extremely blistered; I therefore rubbed them with a little
common beef-fat, begged of a Walsall butcher, and found
instant relief.
Upon application to a man who sold stockings in the market,
I could learn there were no frames in Walsall, but many in
Birmingham; that he would recommend me to an acquaintance;
and if I should not succeed there was Worcester, a little to
the right, had some frames ; and Coventry, a little to the left,
would bring me into the stocking country.
Addison says, "There is not a Woman in England; that
every one of the British fair has a right to the epithet of
Lady." I wondered in my way from Walsall to Birmingham
to see so many blacksmiths' shops; in many of them one, and
in some two, Ladies at work; all with smutty faces, thundering
at the anvil.
Struck with the novelty, I asked if the ladies in

Life of William Hutton.
this country shod horses? but was answered,

I33
"They

are

nailers."*'

Upon Handsworth heath I had a view of Birmingham. St.
Philip's [Church] appeared first, uncrowded with houses (for
there were none to the North, except New Hall), untarnished
with smoke, and illuminated with a western sun. It appeared
in all the pride of modern architecture.
I was charmed with
its beauty, and thought it then, as I do now, the credit of the
place.
I had never seen more than five towns; Nottingham, Derby,
Burton, Lichfield, and Walsall. The three last I had not
known more than two days.
The outskirts of these, and, I
supposed, of others, seemed to be composed of wretched
dwellings, visibly stamped with dirt and poverty. But the
buildings in the exteriors of Birmingham rose in a style of
elegance. Thatch, so plentiful in other places, was not to be
met with in this. It did not occur to my thoughts, that, nine
years after, I should become a resident here, and thirty-nine
years after write its history !
I was surprised at the place, but more so at the people.
They possessed a vivacity I had never beheld. I had been
Their very step
among dreamers, but now I saw men awake.
along the streets showed alacrity. Every man seemed to know
what he was about. The town was large, and full of inha&.tants, and these inhabitants full of industry. The face)
other men seem tinctured with an idle gloom; but here withl a
pleasing alertness. Their appearance was strongly marked
with the modes of civil life.t
How far commerce influences the habits of men is worthy

q.

SNail-makers.
t Hutton's first impression of Birmingham, thus very graphically and
pleasantly expressed, produced an effect on him which remained to the end
of his days. He had a strong affection for the town he had adopted. Of
the people of Birmingham he says, "To them I not only owe much, but
all; and I think among that congregated mass there is not one person to
whom I wish ill. I have the pleasure of calling many of those inhabitants
friends, and some of them share my warm affections equally with myself.
Birmingham, a compassionate nurse, not only draws our persons but our
esteem from the place of our nativity, and fixes it upon herself. I might
add 'I was hungry, and she fed me; thirsty, and she gave me drink; a
stranger, and she took me in.' I approached her with reluctance because I
did not know her; I shall leave her with reluctance because I do."

'34

Life of William Hutton,

the pen of the philosopher. The weather was extremely fine,
which gave a lustre to the whole. The people seemed happy;
and I, the only animal out of use.

There appeared to be three stockingers in Birmingham.
Evans, the old Quaker, yet in being, was the principal. I
asked him, with great humility, for employ.
"You are a
'prentice." "'Sir,I am not, but am come with the recommendation of your friend, Mr. Such-a-one, of Walsall." "Go
about your business, I tell you, you are a runaway 'prentice." I retreated, sincerely wishing I had business to go
about.
I waited upon Holmes, in Dale-end; at that moment a
customer entering, he gave me a penny to be shut of me.
The third was Francis Grace, at the Gateway, in New Street.
This man was a native of Derby, and knew my family. Fourteen years after he procured for me a valuable wife, his niece
and sixteen years after, he died, leaving me in possession of
his premises and fortune, paying some legacies.
I moved the same question to him I had done to others, and
with the same effect. He asked after his brother at Derby. I
answered readily, as if I knew.
One lie often produces
a second. He examined me closely; and, though a man of no
shining talents, quickly set me fast. I was obliged to tell
three or four lies to patch up a lame tale, which I plainly saw
would hardly pass.
I appeared a trembling stranger in that house, over which,
sixteen years after, I should preside, and that for nineteen more.
I stood, as a culprit, by that counter, upon which, thirty-eight
years after, I should record the memory. I thought, though
his name was Grace, his heart was stony; and I left the shop
with this severe reflection, that I had told several lies, and that
without the least advantage.
I am sorry to digress, but must
beg leave to break the thread of my narrative while I make
two short remarks.
I acquired a high character for honesty, by stealing two
shillings!
Not altogether because I took two out of ten, but
because I left the other eight. A thief is seldom known to
leave part of his booty if he has power over the whole. If I
had had money, I should not have taken any; and if I had
found none, I should not have run away.
The reader will
also think with me that two shillings was a very modest sum to
carry me to Ireland.

Life of William Hutton.

135

The other is whether lying is not laudable ? If I could have
consented to tell one lie to my uncle, I should not only have
saved my back, my character, and my property, but also prevented about ten lies which I was obliged to tell in the course
of the following week. But that Vast Intelligence who directs
immensity, whether he judges with an angry eye, according to
some Christians, or with a benign one, according to others,
will ever distinguish between an act of necessity and an act of
choice.
It was now about seven in the evening of Tuesday, July 14,
1741.
I sat to rest upon the north side of the Old Cross,
near Philip Street; the poorest of all the poor belonging to
that great parish, of which, twenty-seven years after, I should
be overseer. I sat under that roof, a silent, depressed. object,
where thirty-one years after, I should sit as a judge. When
property should be in my decision, I should have the pleasure
of terminating differences between man and man, and the good
fortune to leave, even the loser, satisfied. Why did not some
kind agent comfort me with the distant prospect?
About ten yards from me, near the corner of Philip Street,
I perceived two men in aprons eye me with some attention.
They approached near. " You seem," says one, "by your
melancholy situation, and dusty shoes, a forlorn traveller, without money and without friends." I assured him it was exactly
my case. " If you choose to accept a pint, it is at your service.
I know what it is myself to be distressed." "I shall receive
any favour," says I, "with thankfulness."
They took me to the Bell in Philip Street, and gave me what
drink and bread and cheese I chose. They also procured a
lodging in the neighbourhood, where I slept for three halfpence.
I did not meet with this treatment in r 770o [twenty-nine years
after] at Market Bosworth, though I appeared in the style of
a gentleman. The inhabitants set their dogs at me merely because I was a stranger. Surrounded with impassable roads,
no intercourse with man to humanize the mind, no commerce
to smooth their rugged manners, they are the boors of nature.
We are taught to wish good for evil. May the grass grow in
their streets !
I could not prevail upon myself to
Wednesday, July
leave Birmingham, that seat of civility; but was determined to
endeavotir to forget my misfortunes, and myself, for one day,

15.

136

Life of William Hutton.

and take a nearer view of this happy abode of the smiling
Arts.
Thursday, i6. I arrived early in the day at Coventry, but
could get no prospect of employment. The streets seemed
narrow, ill-paved, and the place populous.
The Cross, a
beautiful little piece of architecture, but composed of wretched
materials. The houses had a gloomy air of antiquity; the
upper story projecting over the lower, designed, no doubt, by
the architect, to answer two valuable purposes; that of
shooting off the wet, and shaking hands out of the garret
windows. But he forgot three evils arising from this improvement of art; the stagnation of air, the dark rooms, and the
dirty streets.
I slept at the Star Inn, not as a chamber guest, but a haychamber one.
Friday, 17.
I reached Nun-Eaton, and found I had again
entered the dominions of Sleep. That active spirit which
marks the commercial race did not exist. The inhabitants
seemed to creep along, as if afraid their streets should be seen
empty. However, they had sense enough to ring the word
" 'rentice" in my ears, which I not only denied, but used every
figure in rhetoric I was master of, to establish my argument;
yet was not able to persuade them out of their penetration.
They still called me a boy. I thought it hard to perish because I could not convince people I was a man. I left the
place without a smile, and without a dinner; perhaps it is not
very apt to produce either. I arrived at Hinckley about four
in the afternoon. The first question usually put was, "Where
do you come from ?" My constant answer was, "Derby."
"There is a countryman of yours," said the person, "in such
a street, his name is Millward." I applied, and found I had
been a neighbour to his family. He also knew something of
mine. He set up the same objection that others had done,
and I the same unsuccessful reply.
He set me to work till night, about two hours, in which
time I earned twopence. He then asked me in, entered into
conversation with me, and observed he was certain I was a
runaway 'prentice, and begged I would inform him ingenuously.
I replied with tears I was; and that an unhappy difference
between my uncle and me had been the cause of my leaving
his service.
He told me-if I would return in the morning, I should be

Life of William Hutton.

I3

7

welcome to stay with him that night. I replied I had no objection to his service but that I could not submit to any punishment; and if I were not received upon equitable terms, I would
immediately return to my own liberty.
He asked if I had any money.
I answered, " Enough to
carry me home." He was amazed, and threw out hints of
crimination. I assured him he might rest satisfied upon that
head, for I had brought two shillings with me from home. He
exclaimed with emotion, " Two shillings !" This confirmed
his suspicions.
Wrapped in my own innocence, I did not think my honesty
worth vindicating; therefore did not throw away one argument
upon it. 'Truth is very persuasive, and will often make its
way to the heart in its native simplicity, better than a
varnished lie.
Extreme frugality, especially in prospect of distress, composes a part of my character.
Saturday, the I8th. I thanked my friend Millward for his
kindness; received nothing for my work, nor he for his civility;
and we parted the friends of an hour.
At noon I saw Ashby-de-la-Zouch. It was market day. I
had eightpence remaining of my two shillings. My reader will
ask, with Millward, " How I lived ?" I answer, "As he could
not." The moralists say, " Keep desire low, and nature is
satisfied with little." [A turnip-field has supplied the place of
a cook's shop; a spring, that of a public-house; and, while at
Birmingham, I knew by repeated experience, that cherries were
a halfpenny a pound.]
I arrived at Derby at nine in the evening. My father gladly
received me, and dropped a tear for my misfortunes. We agreed
that he should send for my uncle early in the morning, who
would probably be with us by four in the evening.
Sunday, I9. My father told me that I could not appear
before him in a more disadvantageous light, to say I was out
of a jail; that he should think of this disagreeable circumstance every day of his future life, and that I must give him
leave to reprove me before my uncle.
As the time approached, he seemed greatly cast down, and
invited two of my uncle's old friends to step in, and soften
matters between us. But I considered that my uncle was
naturally of a good temper, passion excepted; that I had left
him suing for peace; that I had returned a volunteer, which

138

Life of William Hutlton.

carries the idea of repentance; that he must be conscious he
had injured me; that he considered my service as a treasure,
which he had been deprived of, and which, being found, he
would rejoice at, just in proportion as he had grieved at the
loss.
About nine my uncle
The two friends forgot to come.
entered, and shaking hands with my father, for the two brothers
were fond of each other. While their hands were united, he
turned to me, with a look of benignity, superficially covered
with anger, and said, "Are not you to blame ?" I was
silent.
. The remainder of the evening was spent agreeably; in the
course of which my uncle observed if my father would make
up half of my loss, he would make up the other. My father
received the proposal joyfully, and they ratified the agreement
by a second shake of the hand. But, I am sorry to observe,
it was thought of no more. I thought it peculiarly hard, that
the promise to punish me was remembered, and the promise to
reward me forgot.
This unhappy ramble damped my rising spirit. I could not
forbear viewing myself in the light of a runaway. It sunk me
in the eye of my acquaintance, nor did I recover my former
balance of two years, 1743. It also ruined me in point of dress,
for I was not able to reassume my former appearance for five
years, 1746. It run me into debt, out of which I have never
been to this day, Nov. 21, 1779.
[THE

END OF THE WEEK.]

An old gentleman of the name of Webb, who had passed a
life in London, brought 3000o1. into business, lived in genteel
life, and had filled many offices, but was reduced, came to
reside with us. He was one of the most sensible and best of
men, completely formed for an instructor of youth. It was my
fortune to attend him, sleep with him, and love him. I treated
him as a father, a monitor, and endeavoured to profit by him.
He had many acquaintance, all men of sense, to whose conversation I listened by the hour.
I began this year with an old remark-let me close it with
another: "One evil seldom comes alone." In addition to the
distress arising from running away, I was long and sorely
afflicted with the ague, which still impeded a rising spirit. In

Life of Wilhliant Hutton.

139

one of the attacks I found a cure by being let blood, in another
by plunging into the Trent, both in the cold fit.
1742.
There was a contested election at Derby, March 6, between
Lord Duncannon, who had married the daughter of the Duke
My uncle
of Devonshire, and German Pole of Radburn.*
being a burgess, was gone to vote. My brother, Roper, and
I, his three apprentices, being three Derby lads, set out, or ran
away if you please, to see the election. My uncle was very
angry : "he could not stir a foot but we must follow '" My
father undertook our cause, succeeded, and the next day he
gave us sixpence to carry us back.
Monday, July r7. My worthy friend Mr. Webb complained
he had had an uncomfortable night. He grew worse till Friday
morning, the 22nd, when he died. I saw him expire, assisted
in bearing him to the grave, and mourned his loss. His friends
also declined their visits, which added to that loss.
I had many acquaintance, who being agreeable, we spent
our evenings in athletic exercises, which, in some degree

* This election was one of the strongest contests known in Derby. The
candidates were, as Hutton records, Viscount Duncannon, afterwards Earl of
Bessborough, who had married in 1739 Lady Caroline Cavendish, eldest
daughter of the third Duke of Devonshire, and German Pole, Esq., of Radbourne Hall, near Derby. It is thus recorded :-" On Saturday last came
on the election for a member to serve in Parliament for this borough, in the
room of the Lord James Cavendish. The candidates were the Right Hon.
Lord Duncannon, son-in-law to his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, and
German Pole, Esq., of Radbourne, near this town. The poll began about ten
o'clock in the morning, and continued till six in the evening, at which time
the worshipful the Mayor adjourned the further proceedings thereon till
Monday morning at nine o'clock, pursuant to which they met, and the poll
continued till about two in the afternoon. Upon closing the poll books
the numbers stood thus :-For Lord Duncannon, 346; for German Pole,
Esq., 300oo; majority, 46; upon which the former was declared duly elected.
It has been the strongest contest that has been known here for many years,
but was carried on in as peaceable and friendly a manner as the nature of
so strenuous an opposition would admit of. The chief disturbers were a
number of countrymen, who would have prevented the lord being chaired
after the election was over, which, as soon as Mr. Pole was informed of, he
immediately sent several gentlemen and others of his friends to entreat them
to desist from such proceedings, and to be peaceable and quiet, which had
the desired effect, and his lordship was chaired without any insult being
offered him,"

140

Life of William Hutton.

counterbalanced the dull life of the frame.
second in the class.

I was deemed the

'743.
I began to make a small figure in dress, but much inferior
to that two years ago. However, a young woman chose to fall
in love, daily sought me out, drew me for her Valentine, talked
of matrimony, lamented that I had two years to serve, mentioned several such-a-ones who solicited her hand, and with
what eagerness she had said " no." I never answered any of
these remarks. At length she asked me in plain terms. Thus
she took a liberty totally forbidden to her sex, however unreasonably. I asked her " What prospect there could be of
future life ?" She replied, in the low phrase of her sex, " I
will please my eye, if I plague my heart."
My uncle fixed upon the son of Joseph Knowles, of Mackworth, for an apprentice; hired a horse, fixed me upon him, and
his wife behind, to perform this journey of nineteen miles, and
employ the arts of solicitation. Whether this was a prudent
step is doubtful. I had never ridden a mile, therefore could
guide a horse about as well as a ship; neither did he know
much more of the matter. He advised me to keep a tight
rein. I obeyed, and the horse took it for granted he must
stand still. I held my legs close, for fear of falling. He
danced. I was in agonies, and held by the mane. The beholders cried "Take your spurs out of his sides " [I did
not know they were in].
We jogged on with fear and trembling. I held the bridle
in the right, and the pommel in the left hand [which soon
wore a hole in the hand]. My hat blew off. I slipped down
before to recover it, but could not mount again. I walked
with the bridle in hand, and her upon the pillion, to find a
place to rise. He went slow. To quicken his pace, I gave
him a jerk. He started from under his burthen, and left her
in the dirt.
We were both frightened, but not hurt, and came home safe,
wind and limb. My uncle, when he paid for the hire, blamed
the horse; but the owner, with a smile, said, "Was there
no defect in the rider ?"
At Whitsuntide I went to see my father, but upon a safer
acquainbottom, my feet, and was favourably received by mnay

Life of William Hutto.

14I

I was
tance. One of them played upon the bell-harp.
charmed with the Bound, and agreed for the price, when I
could raise the capital-half-a-crown.
I found that love, like a common flower in the garden, would
spring into existence, rise to maturity, and if not secured, die
away. My father yet resided with the widow: they had
courted each other ten years, and their love, having had its day,
was withered, and died of old age. He had sought another
woman, and she a man. His marriage was brought forth in a
few weeks, but hers proved still-born. My brother Samuel,
ten years old, went with us. So now my uncle had all the three
sons.
At Michaelmas I went to Derby, to pay for, and bring back,
my bell-harp, whose sounds I thought seraphic. This opened
a scene of pleasure which continued many years. Music was
my daily study and delight. But, perhaps, I laboured under
greater difficulties than any one had done before me. I could
not afford an instructor. I had no books, nor could I borrow,
or buy; neither had I a friend to give me the least hint, or put
my instrument in tune.
Thus was I in the situation of a first inventor, left to grope
in the dark, to find out something. I had first my ear to bring
into tune before I could tune the instrument; for the ear is
the foundation of all music. That is the best tune which best
pleases the ear; and he keeps the best time who draws the
most music from his tune.
For six months did I use every effort to bring a tune out of
an instrument, which was so dreadfully out, it had no tune in
it. Assiduity never forsook me. I was encouraged by a
couplet I had seen in Dyche [Spelling-book.]
" Despair of nothing that you would attain;
Unwearied diligence your point will gain."

When I was able to lay a foundation, the improvement, and
the pleasure, were progressive. Wishing to rise, I borrowed a
dulcimer, made one by it, then learned to play upon it. But in
the fabrication of this instrument I had neither timber to work
upon, tools to work with, nor money to purchase either.
It is said, "Necessity is the mother of invention." I was
obliged to pull a large trunk to pieces, one of the relics of the
family, but formerly the property of Thomas Parker, the first

:142

Life of William Hutton.
Earl of Macclesfield. " And as to tools, I considered that the

hammer-key and the plyers, belonging to the stocking-frame,
would supply the place of hammer and pincers. My pocketknife was all the edge-tools I could raise; and a fork, with one
limb, was made to act in the double capacity of sprig-passer
and gimlet.
I quickly was master of this piece of music; for if a man
can play upon one instrument, he may learn upon any.
A young man, apprentice to a baker, happening to see the
dulcimer, asked if I could perform upon it ? Struck with the
sound, and the facility with which he thought I performed,
he asked "if I would part with the instrument, and at what
* "Thomas Parker, Earl of Macclesfield," says Hutton, in another of his
works, "' if not a native, claims a place as having been long a resident, and
finding in Derby the road to riches, honours, fame, and a title. He was
born in 1667, was a private attorney, and resided many years in Bridgegate, at the foot of the bridge, in the house next to the Three Crowns.
Abilities and industry procured him practice, practice brought money, and
These, united, initiated him into the office of Remoney consequence.
corder, which opened a wider field for his talents. The man who has a
capacity for great things and is assisted by activity never stops at small ;
success accelerates his actions. Mr. Parker soon became a pleader at the
bar, travelled the Midland Circuit, acquired additional esteem, business,
and property; was denominated the Silver-tongued Counsel ; and found
interest enough in 1705 to cause himself to be returned a member for the
borough, with Lord James Cavendish, son to the first Duke of Devonshire.
HIe was chosen again in 1707. Having now got into the political world,
where his talents beamed in full brightness, without the danger of an eclipse,
he made rapid strides towards preferment. Here we find him Sir Thomas.
The Commons, sensible of his powers, chose him one of their managers in
the famous trial of Dr. Sacheverell in 1709, which he conducted with great
ability. Of all the speeches his are the most nervous. If the doctor got
imaginary honours by trial, Sir Thomas acquired real, for before the election in 1710 he was made Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench. He
then quitted Derby. Being offered the Chancellor's seals, he refused them
because his sentiments did not coincide with those of the Harleian ministry.
George the First, entertaining the highest opinion of his merit, created him
Baron Parker in 1716; Viscount Parker of Ewelme, in 1718. And now
he accepted the seals with safety. He was created Earl of Macclesfield in
1721, and continued Lord Chancellor six years, when he was accused and
brought to trial for selling places in Chancery, and fined 30,0001., which I
believe he paid. He lost the Chancellorship of course. The King called
for the Council-book, and with a sigh, some said with a tear, dashed out
his name.
"There is not a character more hunted than a disgraced favourite. His
excellencies are forgotten, and his errors are magnified. Staffordshire, it

Life

of William Hulon.

143

price ?" I answered in the afrmative, and for sixteen shillings.
He gave it.
I told him, " If he wanted advice, or his instrument wanted
" O no, there's not a
tuning, I would assist him, gratis."
doubt but I shall do." I bought a coat with the money, and
constructed a better piece of music.
Meeting him some time after, "Well, Gow do you succeed ?"
"O, rarely well. I can play part of Over the hills andfar

away." This excited a smile in both.
Our next meeting produced the same question, to which he
replied, " O, damn the music, I could not make it do; which
provoked me so much that I took a broomstick, and whacked
the strings till I broke them; then knocked the body to pieces,
and burned it in the oven."
was said, had produced three of the greatest rogues that ever existed-Jack
Sheppard, Jonathan Wild, and Lord Macclesfield. The man who rises to
elevation draws the envy as well as the eyes of the beholder. If I cannot
ascend to his eminence I have a right to bring him down to mine. The
Lord Chancellor had certainly committed a fault, but such a one as is every
day committed. 'Are not votes, places, and interest continual articles of
traffic? Are not half the people in office shuffled into their places by sale?
Have not votes of all kinds been long put up for hire; some of them, being
of small value, will scarcely bear a dinner and a gallon of ale; while others,
of a more exalted nature, amply furnish a table round the year? Does not
one man oblige another with his interest for a return, which is only another
word for purchase? Even church livings frequently find a price. Lord
Macclesfield's was a species of bribery of a milder nature than is generally
practised. If hlie
disposed of a clerkship to a person fit for the office, which,
from his able judgment, we may reasonably conclude, his country could no
way be affected ; but if a minister or his underling buys a vote his country
may suffer. If Lord Macclesfield's clerk does his duty all concerned are
benefited; but if a patron chance to be an improper judge, and sell a
benefice, the whole parish is injured. Unhappily for the Chancellor, party
rage ran high, and his enemies fixed a brand upon his name of that magnitude which never wore out. This happened to the worthy Lord Verulam,
who, for a trifling set of buttons, raised the clamour of a kingdom, as if
that kingdom were honester than himself. Discovery constituted the fault.
If you or I, my dear reader, never sold a place perhaps it was because we
had none to sell, hence our fair character arises from necessity.
"The accomplished Lord Macclesfield, in the height of prosperity, did
not forget the place where the scene of his elevation opened, for in 1722,
twelve years after, he contributed one hundred guineas, and his son, Lord
Parker, twenty, towards the erection of All Saints. He retired during the
last eight years of his life, the philosopher and the friend. When seized
with a strangury he resigned his existence, as a Christian, on the 28th of
April, 1732, at the age of 65."

S144

Life of William Hutton.

I744.
This year was ushered in and ushered out with the same
pursuit after music. The relish increased with the knowledge.
I wished to soar, but poverty clipped my wings.
The Corporation, attended by the waits, went in solemn
procession to declar~ var against France. I marched close
by the music with greal attention and pleasure.
At Christmas my servitude expired. I must now launch into
the great world upon my own bottom. I had hitherto been
under the care of others; but now I must attend to the compass myself, and steer the vessel. The thought crossed me
with anxiety.
I had served two seven years to two trades, upon neither of
which could I subsist. During this servitude, I had earned
about seven pounds over-work, which, with a debt I had contracted to my uncle of thirty shillings, had frugally found me
with apparel.
1745.
I continued a journeyman with my uncle. I had a particular acquaintance, William Martin, (see the "Pleasures
of Matrimony,")* who was extremely attached to me. We
* "The Pleasures of Matrimony," here alluded to by our author, was a
poem in four parts, written by himself, in which he relates the adventures
of this friend of his, William Martin. The poem, which is too long, and
in some parts scarcely suitable, to be here reproduced, is printed in
Hutton's " Poems; chiefly Tales," where it occupies twenty-six pages. It
was written November 21, 1793. A few brief extracts will illustrate the
thread of the narrative, which Hutton says is-

"

. ...
A true and recent tale;
Not from Jerusalem, I protest,
But Nottingham, upon the Forest.
Nor shall a Roman date be mine,
'Twas seventeen hundred forty-nine;
And William Martin, I'll engage,

The hero who shall tread the stage.
Drawing towards manhood, he began
To think himself a tightish man.
Among the passions of the breast,
Love seem'd to dawn among the rest ;
Nor is it strange that love he'd got ;
Where is the man that has it not?

Life of William Hutton.

45

never parted without, "When shall I see you again ?" His
parents also wished my company.
I spent every Sunday
evening at least at their house, and was their main oracle.
He courted Miss Woolley, who resided with an old aunt.
Love from his eye quick sent a dart,
And lodged it in Miss Woolley's heart.
Yet, strange to tell, and yet 'tis true,
From that one dart another grew."
The result of the courtship was that Miss Woolley found herself likely to
become a mother, and then her lover ran away from the probable consesequences, and went to Hinckley, in Leicestershire.
Here he worked, and,
in fear of parish constables and overseers, spent his evenings at the public
house. On one of these evenings, in midst of his carousing with others,
the young wife of one of the drinkers came in modestly to ask her husband
to come home. The brutal husband became instantly enraged, and swore"He'd break her heart or break her neck.
To rid his hand he would not fail,
He'd sell her for a quart of ale."
To this :"Your bargain I'll not disappoint,"
Cried Martin; " I'll give you a pint."
"The husband in his price wont sink,
Nor Martin rise one drop of drink.
Hannah's in equilibrio,
Not knowing how the sale will go;
But, like a wife of prudent cast,
Show'd strict obedience to the last.
The husband tried to raise the buyer:
Martin declared he'd go no higher.
The piit was ordered, bargain struck,
And nothing back returned for luck.
The parties of a halter thought,
But this they found would cost a groat.
The halter scheme was instant lost,
As being twice what Hannahcost.
For that same reason, neither would
Pay fourpence, that she might be toll'd.
While they consume the pint in strife,
The purchase of a prudent wife,
'Twas thought a deed would best avail
T' insure the bargain and the sale ;
For when a treaty is to last,
'Tis needful we should make all fast.
An article they jointly draw,
Declaring rights in terms of law."
But now a difficulty appeared.

The poor wife had two children ; and it

146

Life of William Hutlon.

As I could perform upon the dulcimer, I was led there. Late
in the evening, the old lady, half tipsy, followed me out, used all
the rhetoric of the tongue, sometimes laid her right hand on
my left shoulder, and once uttered, " I love thee. If I was but
as young as thee, I would have thee, if thou wouldst but marry
me." Had she attempted a salute, I must, for once, have run
away from the embraces of a woman. How will drink expose
what love prompts!
My uncle took notice of me. I attended him in his walks
and his visits ; had some knowledge of history, and could speak.
The Rebellion* broke out, which produced sufficient matter
for inquiry and conversation.
was agreed over the pint of ale that the eldest, who could use its feet, was
to remain with the father, while the other, in arms, should be a part of
Martin's purchase.
" What would the ancients, think you, said
To wives being sold twopence a head ?"
asks Hutton. The bargain being fairly concluded, William Martin thought
it best instantly to remove from Hinckley, and accordingly, tying all that he
possessed up in a handkerchief, and slinging it over a stickacross his
shoulder, he bade his newly-purchased wife follow him, which she did,
with her child in her arms; and they trudged off, walking through the
night, to Loughborough. They became perfectly attached to each other,
and lived as happy a life as any two young people could wish for. In the
meantime the wretch of a husband at Hinckley repented him of his folly,
and determined to get back his discarded wife, and having set the overseers
of the parish on the scent, they, a year afterwards, traced the couple to
Loughborough, and demanded her return, which he resented, showed his
deed of purchase, and reasoned and argued, but all in vain. She was
taken by force by the overseers, and removed back to Hinckley to her
This is the narrative of the career of
brutal husband and to misery.
Hlutton's friend, William Martin.
SIn this rebellion it will be remembered that the unfortunate and misled
Prince Charles Edward, made his way into the interior of the kingdom as
far as Derby, and then, having held a council of war, retreated. The
house where the Prince lodged was Exeter House, in Full Street, which
has ever since been known as "The Pretender's House." It was taken
down a few years since to form a useless and profitless street. This house
closely adjoined the place of Hutton's birth ; and, although many accounts of the behaviour of the Scottish army are extant, it is better here
to give them in our author's own graphic words. He writes : "James, son
of James II., only surviving heir of the unfortunate house of Stuart, and
better known by the name of 'The Pretender,' having attained the vigour
of life, made two attempts-one in 1708 and the other in 1715-to regain
the dominions of his ancestors, but, miscarrying in both, and age stealing
let
on, hie his title sleep. His son Charles, encouraged by the powers of
youth, a handsome person, an engaging address, a necessary share of ambition to stimulate to action, the promises of assistance from the European

L fe of William Hutoi,

147

I could not relish the thought of being a journeyman for
life; and, should I let youth pass by, all would be over. I
courts with whom England was at war, the engagements of the Highland
chiefs, and, above all, the faithful assurances of the English to declare in
his favour, landed in Scotland, August Io, 1745. The small but bold
stroke at Preston Pans, raised the credit of his arms; but, as the mind
which receives favours loses its consequence, so Charles, though possessed
of mental powers, was never able to guide his own councils. His chiefs,
who had ventured their all in his cause, thought they had a right to direct.
This introduced confusion. Assistance from foreign courts arrived slowly.
The French forgot more than half their promises, arrd the English nearly all;
yet the unhappy wanderer, with hasty strides, entered Derby on Wednesday,
December the 4th, on his way to St. James's. His artillery, consisting of
thirteen pieces, was stationed upon Nun's Green. His troops were dispersed through the town, and amounted to nearly the number of the inhabitants. Bells, bonfires, and proclamations were, as usual, the first
orders; horses, arms, and the delivery of public money were the next.
Instead of marching forward the succeeding day, as expected, a council of
war was held privately at the head-quarters, over which the Prince presided, but had not the leading voice. Many of the chiefs spoke; their
situation was critically examined. It was urged 'that they had followed
their Prince with alacrity; that their love for his cause was equal to the hazard
they ran ; that the French had not fulfilled their engagements in sending the
necessary supplies, nor in making a diversion in the West to draw the military
attention; that the English promises were still more delusive, for they had
been given to understand, as soon as the Prince's standard should be erected
in England, the majority would run with eagerness to join it, instead of
which they had raised only one slender regiment in their long march, which
barely supplied their travelling losses; that the English were extremely
loyal to the House of Stuart when warmed by a good fire and good liquor,
but the warmth of their fire, their liquor, and their loyalty evaporated
together. They were then in the centre of an enemy's country, with a
handful of men. To retreat was dangerous, but to proceed must be certain
destruction.'
It was therefore determined to march back towards Scotland
the next morning and retrieve their affairs, which rendered Derby famous
for the advance and retreat of that small and ill-appointed army which
shook a throne and terrified a kingdom."
Thus the deluded Chevalier, before he left the Continent, had tried and1
determined his cause by hearing one side only. He forgot that another was
to appear, by far the most numerous, which loudly declared for the Brunswick interest. A retreat was the only wise step that could be taken, for
the Duke of Cumberland, son to George the Second, in the bloom of youth
and famous for intrepidity, was crossing the country from Lichfield to meet
him, at the head of a superior army, and that of veterans, well supplied, in
high spirits, and attached to their leader, so that about two days must have
brought on a battle and inevitable ruin. The behaviour of these desperate
adventurers while at Derby is well described by Hugh Bateman, Esq., of St.
Mary's Gate, in a letter written with more candour than was the practice of
the time :-"At eleven o'clock two of the vanguard entered, seized Mr. StamL

:i48

Life of William Hutton.

asked my uncle to let me set a frame in his workroom, paying
the usual price; in which case I would hire one, and work for
ford's house, went to the George Inn, and demanded billets for 9000 men.
They then inquired for the magistrates and their formalities, but were told
they were fled, which answer satisfied. However, they afterwards seized
on Alderman Cowper, too lame to run away, and obliged him to proclaim
the Prince. In a short time thirty more in the same uniform, which was
blue, with scarlet waistcoats and gold lace, arrived, commanded by Lord
Bahnerino. They were drawn up in the market-place, where they continued till three, when Lord Elcho arrived with one hundred and fifty, the
remainder of the corps being the Prince's life-guard.
They were fine
figures, well dressed, but their horses were jaded. Soon after the main
body entered, six or eight abreast, a mixture of every rank, from childhood
to old age, from the dwarf to the giant, chiefly in deranged dresses, marked
with dirt and fatigue. They carried eight standards, white, with red crosses.
They were ushered in by the bagpipes, that ancient northern music, which
raised the spirit of the martial Highlander. At dusk the Prince arrived
on foot with his guards. He was tall, straight, slender, and handsome,
dressed in a green bonnet laced with gold, a white bob wig, the fashion of
the day, a Highland plaid, and broadsword. He took up his quarters at
the bottom of Full-street, in Lord Exeter's house. The Duke of Athol was
at the house of Thomas Gisborne, Esq., Bridgegate; the Duke of Perth at
Mrs. Rivett's, in the Morelege; Lord Elcho at Mr. Storer's; Lord George
Murray at Mr. Heathcote's; Lord Pitsligo at Mr. Meynell's ; old Gordon of
Glenbucket at Alderman Smith's, Lord Nairn at Mr. John Bingham's, all
in the Market-place. Lady Ogilvie, Mrs. Murray, and others of distinction
lodged at Mr. Francis's, in the Corn Market. The chief officers chose the
best gentlemen's houses. Many of the inhabitants had forty or fifty of
various ranks quartered upon them, and some a hundred. Articles of dress
were applied for as being much wanted ; some they had with money, but
more without. A list of those people was procured who had associated and
subscribed for the support of government, whom they obliged to pay the
same sums to them. They demanded the land tax, excise, &c., and actually
received about 25001. They demanded also Iool. from the post-office,
which was declined ; they reduced it to 50ol., but this not being complied
with, they took away a post-chaise. During their stay at Derby, Coppoch,
whom the Chevalier had made Bishop of Carlisle, preached at All Saints'.
They beat up for volunteers, at five shillings advance and five guineas when
they arrived in London, but they were joined by three people only-Cook,
a travelling journeyman blacksmith; Edward Hewitt, a butcher, brother
to John, who was executed with Rosamond; and James Sparks, a stocking-maker, men of degraded life and sullied character. The eager Sparks
could not wait their arrival, but met them in their approach to Derby, and
accosted the leading officer in the most joyful terms: 'This is the day,'
says he, 'I have long wished for;' seized his piece, and hugged it to his
bosom as a treasure. He also directed the gentlemen to suitable quarters ;
gave in the characters of the inhabitants; pointed out the friend and the
foe ; who was to be favoured and who oppressed. He also guided the outparties to the seats of the neighbouring gentry, among others to that of
Hugo Meynell, Esq., at Bradley, where, making free with the liquors, he

Life

of William Hdion.

I
49

a warehouse. This would make me a master, though in the
very lowest style. He cheerfully consented. I mentioned the
affair in conversation a few days after, when he refused me in
anger, saying, " I would sooner eat hay with a horse." I knew
this last sentiment was not his own ; his wife was the prompter.
Thus the whole matter and my ambition fell together. I loved
him, and was unwilling to leave him. The terms were commoln,
which, anywhere, would have been accepted.
I thought it
rather ungenerous to nip an opening bud.
I closed the year with a visit to my father at Derby, and
seemed extremely acceptable to my friends.

1746.
The year, and the disagreement between my sister and her
husband," opened together.
[See the second part of the
"Pleasures of Matrimony, or Kitty."] This caused me to take
was left in the cellar completely intoxicated, the rebels themselves declaring 'he was not worth their regard.' His protectors being fled towards
the north while he remained in the cellar, he was seized and carried before
Thomas Gisborne, Esq., a spirited magistrate, who governed the men, granted
his favours to the women, and excited a dread in all. He committed him to
prison. Sparks was sent to York, where in November following he was
tried, condemned, and executed. Cook and Hewitt escaped.
" In their retreat from Derby, Friday the 6th, the Prince rode a black
horse, said to have been Colonel Gardiner's,who was slain at Preston Pans.
" When these unwelcome visitants had quitted the place, the magistrates
ordered a return of their number in every house during both the nights,
which is perhaps the most correct muster-roll ever taken :
First night . . . . . . . . . . 7oo8
Second night . . . . . . . . . 7148
" If we allow for the Royal Guard, that of the artillery and baggage, the
scouts in various parts of the neighbourhood, with the patrols and the
sentinels, and the principal officers, their number was probably about 8ooo.
"Perhaps history cannot produce an instance of so small a number of men,
so ill supplied, msnaking a November march of so great an extent in a
remarkably wet winter, into the centre of an enemy's country, surrounded with continual dangers, who were able to retreat, and who did so
little mischief. The Prince was of a mild temper, much averse to cruelty
or depredation. Horses, arms, ammunition, and public money in all
similar cases are deemed lawful plunder. They frequently paid their
quarters; more frequently it was not expected. If they took people's shoes
it was because they had none of their own, and no voice speaks so loud as
that of necessity. If they omitted payment it was because they had no
money."
* Catherine Hutton, married to William Perkins, tailor and parish clerk
of Swithland, in 1743.

Life of William Huiton.

150o

many journeys to Mountsorrel, but to no purpose, except the
pleasure of seeing her. Her husband, to win my favour, offered
to lend me ten pounds to purchase a frame. I accepted it ;
but, when the moment arrived, he chose to charge it with
interest.
My sister and he parted, as may have been seen in her
Life (page 26, ante). The husband gave it out " that I should
break, and he should lose his money ;" and as she, while in
service, had saved that sum, and lent it to a person in prosperity, he requested her to exchange the securities.
She, unwilling a brother should be stigmatized, consented. It happened,
a few years after, that I paid my ten pounds ; the other person
broke, and never paid a shilling.
Here again the husband was dissatisfied; and, to content
him, she gave him ten pounds of her money.
My youngest brother, Samuel, ran away, and was not heard
of during five years.
An inclination for books began to expand; but here, as in
music and dress, money was wanting.
The first article of
purchase was

three volumes of the Gentleman's Afagazine,

pay
3, and
1-742, together4.in a As I could notstyle. for binding, I fasteneda
them
most cobbled
These afforded me
4

treat.
I could only raise books of small value, and these in shabby
bindings. I learnt to paste, patch, varnish, &c., and brought
them into tolerable order, erected shelves, and arranged them
in the best style I was able.
If I purchased shabby books, it is no wonder that I dealt
with a shabby bookseller who kept his working apparatus in
his shop. It is no wonder, too, if by repeated visits I became
acquainted with this shabby bookseller, and often saw him at
work; but it is a wonder, though a fact, that I never saw him
perform one act but I could perform it myself. So strong was
the desire to attain.
I made no secret of my progress, and he rather encouraged
me, and that for two reasons : I bought such rubbish as nobody
else would, and he had repeated opportunities of selling me a
cast-off tool for a shilling not worth a penny. As I was below
every degree of opposition, a rivalship was out of the question.
; The Gentleman's agazin: was first published in 1731.

Lfir of William Hutton.

I5I

The first book I bound was a very small one, Shakspeare's
"Venus and Adonis." I showed it to him, He seemed sur,
prised. I could see jealousy in his eye. However, he recovered in a moment, and observed, "though he had sold me
the books and tools remarkably che , he could not think of
giving so much for them again." He had no doubt but I
should break !
He offered me a worn-down press for two shillings, which no
man could use and which was laid by for the fire. I considered the nature of its construction, bought it, and paid the
two shillings. I then asked him to favour me with a hammer
and a pin, which he brought with half a smile and half a sneer.
I drove out the garter-pin, which, being galled, prevented the
press from working, and turned another square, which perfectly cured the press. He said, in anger, "If I had known,
you should not have had it." However, I could see he consoled himself with the idea that all must return in the end.
This proved for forty-two years my best binding press, till
burnt at the riots in
I now raised a suit of clothes, supposed genteel, and was so
careful of them, lest I should not procure another, that they
continued my best five years.
My uncle was indisposed, had frequent fits of the gravel;
nature seemed exhausted. In vomiting he broke a bloodvessel, which put a period to his existence.
On Wednesday, the Ioth of September, I was told that he
was taken ill in the garden. I darted in, and found him supporting himself against a pillar. He instantly fainted, and I
caught him in my arms while falling. He had broken a bloodvessel, and threw up about a quart of blood.
The next day Michael Pare remarked that as my uncle had
discharged a load of blood from the stomach he would soon be
well. This was the judgment of a quack. He forgot that a
depraved system could not bear so great a loss, that straining
again would open the wound, and that an internal fracture is
hard to cure.
On Sunday several friends came to see my uncle. He conversed freely with them. A tender part of the conversation
occasioned him to drop a tear. His strength was spent; I
carried him upstairs to his room; he quitted it no more, but
died five days after. I was present, and could not bear the
shock. My sister was obliged to support me.

1791.

152 .

Life of William Hutton.

I was ignorant how much I loved him till my sorrow for his
death informed me.
The frame being my own and trade being dead, the hosiers
would not employ me. They could scarcely employ their own.
I was advised to try Leicester, so took with me half a dozen
pair of stockings to sell. I visited several warehouses; but
alas ! all proved blank. By repeated rebuffs a man's fortitude
gives way. They would neither employ me, nor give for my
goods anything near prime cost. I was so affected, as I stood
like aculprit before a gentleman of the name of Bennet, that I
burst into tears to think that I should serve seven years to a
trade at which I could not get bread.
My uncle gone, my sister took a house in Barward Lane;
and, to ease the rent, my brother Thomas and I lodged with
her.
1747.

It had been the pride of my life, ever since pride commenced,
to wear a watch. I bought a silver one for thirty-five shillings.
It went ill. I kept it four years, then gave that and a guinea
for another, which went as ill. I afterwards exchanged this for
a brass one, which, going no better, I sold it for five shillings,
and, to close the watch farce, gave the five shillings away and
went without thirty years.
I had promised to visit my father at Derby, on Whitsun eve.
Business detained me till it was eleven before I arrived. Expectation had, for some time, been upon the stretch, and was
now giving way. He being elevated with liquor and my almost
unexpected arrival, rose in ecstasy, and gave me the first kiss,
and, I believe, the last, he ever gave me.
This year I began to dip into rhyme. The stream was
pleasant, though I doubt whether it flowed from Helicon.
Many little pieces were produced by my pen, which, perhaps,
pleased; however, they gave no offence, for they slept upon
my shelf till the rioters burnt them in 1791.
1748.
It is difficult for a young man to live without love. I was
intimate with a young widow who had one child, but never
* None of these early poetic effusions appear to have been preserved-at
least, none are known to me.

Life of Williamn Hutton.

I53

touched upon the word marriage. She frequently dragged me
to the test ; but I observed I was between two trades-one of
which, it was clear, I could not live by ; and marriage would
totally spoil me for the other, which, at best, was uncertain.
She replied " she did not wish to be a burthen; but if she was
sure of me, I might take my own course, and we might live
separate till better times," hinting it would be as well to pursue
my own trade. I asked " if she ever knew two young people
who loved each other live asunder out of choice ?" I made
no ,remark upon her advice of "following my own trade," but
felt it.
As I would neither marry nor promise, and as she did not
choose to live single, she accepted another, who followed her
three or four years, then left her; and she never married.
Every soul who knew me scouted the idea of turning
bookbinder, except my sister, who encouraged and aided me;
or I must have sunk under it. I considered that I was
naturally of a frugal temper; that I could watch every penny;
live upon a little ; that I hated stocking-making, but not binding; that, if I continued the frame I was certain to be poor,
and if I ventured to leave it I could but be so. My only fear
was lest I should draw in my friends, for I had nothing of my
own. But I considered again it would not be my fault if extreme frugality could save me.
I had frequently heard that " every man had, at some time or
other in his life, an opportunity of rising." As this was a
received opinion, I would not contradict it. I had, however,
watched many years for the golden ball, but thought it never
yet had been thrown into my lap.
I still pursued the two trades. Hurt to see my three
volumes of Magazines in so degraded a style, I took them to
pieces and clothed them in a superior dress.
1749.
I became acquainted with another girl; but we were so indifferent to each other that it was easy to see love never
cemented our hearts. When a man begins to change, he soon becomes a rover. I had observed such severe penury among the
married stockingers that the thoughts of a wife were horrid,
except I was in a situation to support one.
A bookbinder fostered by the frame was such a novelty that
many people gave me a book to bind, chiefly my acquaintances

Life of William Hutton.

'54

and their friends, and I perceived two advantages attend my
work. I chiefly served those who were not judges; consequently, that work pas'sed with them which would not with a
master. And, coming from a stockinger, it carried a merit,
because no stockinger could produce its equal.
Hitherto I had only used the wretched tools and the
materials for binding which my bookseller chose to sell me,
but I found there were many other things wanting which were
only to be had in London; besides, I wished to fix a correspondence for what I wanted, without purchasing at second
hand. There was a necessity to take this journey; but an
obstacle arose-I had no money.
My dear sister raised three guineas; sewed them in my
shirt collar, for there was no doubt of my being robbed, and
put eleven shillings into my pocket, for it was needful to have
a sop to satisfy the rogues when they made the attack.
From the diminutive sum I took, it may reasonably be
supposed I should have nothing left for purchase.
On Monday morning at three, April 8, I set out. Not
being accustomed to walk, my feet were blistered with the first
ten miles. I must not, however, sink under the fatigue, but
endeavour to proceed as if all were well; for much depended
on this journey. Aided by resolution I marched on.
Stopping at Leicester, I unfortunately left my knife, and did
not discover the loss till I had proceeded eleven miles. I
grieved because it was the only keepsake I had of my worthy
friend Mr. Webb. Ten times its value could not have purchased it. I had marked it with July 22, 1742, W. H.
A mile beyond Leicester I overtook a traveller, with his head
bound. "How far are you going ?" he asked. "To London,"
replied I. "So am I." " When do you expect to arrive ?"
" On Wednesday night." "So do I." "What is the matter
with your head ?" said I; "have you been fighting ?" He returned a blind answer, which convinced me of the affirmative.
I did not half like my companion, especially as he took care
to walk behind me. "This is probably one of the rogues
likely to attack me." But when I understood he was a tailor
my fears rather subsided, nor did I wonder his head was
wrapped.
Determined upon a separation, I marched apace for half
an hour.

"

Do you mean to hold this rate ?"

use daylight while we have it."

" It is best to

I found I could match him

Life of William Hutton.

I55

at walking, whatever I might do at fighting. In half an hour
more we came to a public house, when he gave up the contest.
" Will you step in and drink ?" " No, I shall be moving slowly;
you may soon overtake me."
I stopped at Brixworth, having walked fifty-four miles, and
my whole expense for the day was fivepence.
The next night, Tuesday the 9 th, I reached Dunstable.
Passing over Finchley common, on the third day, I overtook a
carter, who told me I might be well accommodated at the
Horns, in St. John's Street [Smithfield], by making use of his
name. But it happened, in the eagerness of talking and the
sound of his noisy cart, he forgot to tell his name and I
to ask it.
I arrived at the Horns at five; described my director, whom
they could not recollect; however, I was admitted as an inmate,
ordered a mutton chop and porter; but alas, I was jaded, had
fasted too long; my appetite was gone, and the chop nearly
useless.
This meal, if it might be called a meal, was the only one
during my stay; and, I think, the only time I ever ate under a
roof. I did not know one soul in London, therefore could
have no invitations. Life is supported with a little, which was
well for me, because I had but little to give it. If a man has
any money he will see stalls enough in. London which will
supply him with something to eat, and it rests with him to lay
out his money to the best Cdvantage. If he cannot afford
butter, he must eat his bread without. This will tend to keep
up his appetite, which always gives a relish to food, though
mean, and the scantiness will add to that relish.
Next morning I breakfasted in Smithfield, upon furmity, at
a wheelbarrow. Sometimes a halfpennyworth of soup, and
another of bread ; at others bread and cheese. When nature
called, I must answer. I ate to live.
If a man goes to receive money, it may take him long to do
his business. If to pay money, it will take him less; and if he
has but little to pay, still less. My errand fell under the third
class. I only wanted three alphabets of letters, figures, and
ornamental tools for gilding books; with materials [leather and
boards] for binding.
I wished to see a number of curiosities, but my shallow
pocket forbade. One penny, to see Bedlam, was all I could
spare. Here I met with a variety of curious anecdotes, for I

S56

Life of William Hutton.

stayed long and found conversation with a multitude of characters. All the public buildings fell under my eye, which were
attentively examined; nor was I wanting in my inquiries. Pass
where I would, I never was out of the way of entertainment.
It is reasonable to suppose everything in London was new and
wonderful to a youth who is fond of inquiry, but has scarcely
seen anything but rags and dung-carts. Westminster Abbey,
St. Paul's, Guildhall, Westminster Hall, &c., were open to view;
also both Houses [of Parliament], for they were sitting. As I
had always applied deification to great men, I was surprised to
see a hawker cram her twopenny pamphlet into a member's
face, who, instead of caning her, took not the least notice.
I joined a youth who had business in the Tower, in hopes
of admission. But the warders, hearing the northern voice,
came out of their lodge and, seeing dust upon my shoes,
reasonably concluded I had nothing to give, and with an air of
authority ordered me back.
The Royal Exchange, the Mansion House, the Monument,
the gates, the churches, many of which are beautiful, the
bridges, river, vessels, &c., afforded a fund of entertainment.
I attended at Leicester House, the residence of Frederick
Prince of Wales, scraped acquaintance with the sentinels, who
told me, had I been half an hour sooner, I should have seen
the Prince and his family take coach for an airing.
miles to London, I was upon
Though I had walked
my feet all the three days I was there. I spent half a day in
viewing the west end of the town, the squares, the parks, the
beautiful building for the fireworks, erected in the Green
Park to celebrate the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748. At
St. James's I accosted the guard at the bottom of the stairs,
and rather attempted to advance; but one of them put forward
the butt-end of his piece that I might not step over. At St.
James's too, I had my pocket picked of a handkerchief, which
caused me to return home rather lighter. The people at
St. James's are apt to fill their own pockets at the expense
of others.
Observing in one of the squares the figure of a man on
horseback, I modestly asked a bystander whom it represented?
He answered, in a surly tone, "It's strange you could see
nobody else to ask, without troubling me: it's George the
First."
I could not forbear mentioning at night to my landlord at
the Horns the curiosities I had seen, which surprised him.

129

Life of William Hduton.

157

He replied, " I like such a traveller as you. The strangers
that come here cannot stir a foot without me, which plagues
me to that degree I had rather be without their custom. But
you, of yourself, find out more curiosities than I can show
them or see myself."
On Saturday evening, April 13, I set out with four shillings
for Nottingham, and stopped at St. Albans. Rising the next
morning, April 14, I met in the street the tailor with the
my
muffled head, whom I had left near Leicester. "Ah
friend, what are you still fighting your way up ? Perhaps you
will reach London by next Wednesday. You guessed within a
week the first time !" He said but little, looked ashamed, and
passed on.
This was a melancholy day: I fell lame, with the.sinews of
my leg being overstrained with hard labour. I was far from
home, wholly among strangers, with only the remnant of four
shillings. The dreadful idea operated in tears!
I stopped at Newport Pagnell. My landlord told me " my
shoes were not fit for travelling ;" however, I had no other,
and like my blistered feet, I must try to bear them. Next day,
Monday the 5th, I slept at Market Harborough, and on the 16th
called at Leicester. The landlady had carefully secured my
knife, with a view to return it should I ever come that way.
Reached Nottingham in the afternoon ; 40 miles.
I had been out nearly nine days, three in going, which cost
three-and-eightpence ; three there, which cost about the same;
and three returning, nearly the same. Out of the whole
eleven shillings, I brought fourpence back.
London surprised me; so did the people, for the few with
whom I formed a connexion deceived me by promising what
they never performed and, I have reason to think, never
intended it. This journey furnished vast matter for detail
among my friends.
It was time to look out for a future place of residence. A
large town must now be the mark, or there would be no room
for exertion. London was thought on between my sister and I,
for I had no soul else to consult. This was rejected for two
reasons. How could I venture into such a place without a
capital ? and how could my work pass among a crowd of judges ?
My plan must be to fix upon some market-town within a
stage of Nottingham, open a sl op on the market-day, till I
should be better prepared to begin the world at Birmingham.
I therefore (in the following February) took a journey to

!

158

Life of William Hutton,.

that populous place, to pass a probable judgment upon my
future success.
I fixed upon Southwell as the first step of elevation, fourteen miles distant, a town as despicable as the road to it. I
went over at Michaelmas, took a shop at the rate of twenty
shillings a year, sent a few boards for shelves, tools to put them
up, and about two hundredweight of trash, which a seller would
dignify with the name of books [and worth, perhaps, a year's
rent of my shop]; was my own joiner, put up the shelves and their
furniture, worth perhaps twenty shillings, and in one day became
the most eminent bookseller in the place.*
During this wet winter I must set out at five every Saturday
morning [carry a burthen of three pounds weight to thirty],
open shop at ten, starve in it all day upon bread, cheese, and
half a pint of ale; take from one to six shillings, shut up at
four, and by trudging through the deep roads and the solitary
night five hours more, arrive at Nottingham by nine, carrying a
burthen of from three to thirty pounds, where I always found a
mess of milk porridge by the fire, prepared by my valuable
sister.
Nothing short of a surprising resolution and rigid economy
could have carried me through this dreadful scene.
In one of these early journeys, I met upon Sherwood Forest
four deer-stealers, returning with a buck. This put me in some
fear lest I should be knocked on the head to keep silence. I
did not know them, it being dark, but was afterwards informed
they knew me.
1750.

I took a journey to Birmingham in February, to pass a judgment on the probability of my future success.t
x Here is the " eminent bookseller's" own announcement :" WILLIAM HUTTON

Sells all kinds of Bibles, Common Prayers, School-books, and Books in
all Arts and Sciences, both new and secondhand: all sorts of Stationery
Wares, as Sealing-wax, Wafers, Quills, Pens, and Paper of all sorts; Ink,
Slates, Pencils, Cards, Letter-cases, Letter-files, Maps and Pictures, Books
of Accompt of all sizes ; Gilds and Letters Gentlemen's Libraries; Binds
Books in all varieties of Bindings at the lowest prices, and takes in Subscriptions for the Monthly Magazines."
fIn the folio MS. this account of Hutton's visit to Birmingham is placed
in the year 1749, but evidently from the dates belongs, as in the printed
copy it given, to 1750,
is

Life

of William Hutton.

159

I found there three eminent booksellers for mental improvement, Aris,* Warren, and Woollaston. I considered the town
was large and crowded with inhabitants, and perhaps I might
mingle in that crowd unnoticed by the three great men, for an
ant is not worth destroying. I must again confess I was
pleased with the active spirit of thepeople.
Wishing to take Swithland in my return to Nottingham, to
visit my two aunts, I was directed through Tamworth, where
I spent one penny; then through a few villages, with blind
roads, to Charnwood Forest; over which were five miles of
dreadful waste without any road. To all this I was a stranger.
Passing through a village in the dusk, I determined to stop
at the next public house, but, to my surprise, instantly found
myself upon the Forest. It began to rain, was dark, I was in
no road, nor was any dwelling near. I was among hills, rocks,
and precipices, and so bewildered I could not retreat. I considered my situation as desperate, and must confess I lost the
fortitude of a man.
I wandered slowly, though in the wet, for fear of destruction,
and hallooed with all my powers, but no returns. I was about
two hours in this cruel state when I thought the dull glimmerings of a roof appeared against the sky. My vociferations
continued, but to no purpose. I concluded it must be a
lonely barn, but had it been the receptacle of ghosts it would
have been desirable.
At length I heard the sound of a man's voice, which, though
one of the most dreadful, gave me pleasure. I continued
advancing, perhaps thirty yards, using the soft persuasives of
distress for admission, even under any roof, but could not
prevail. He replied, "all his outbuildings had been destroyed
by a mob of freeholders, as standing upon the waste." By his
shadow against the sky he seemed about six feet, strong built,
and, by the sound of his voice, upwards of fifty.
SMr. Thomas Aris, of London, commenced business in Birmingham in
1741. In May of that year he agreed to take premises for the purpose of
commencing as printer and bookseller, which trade he accordingly began
at Michaelmas in that year.
On the 16th of November following
(1741), Mr. Aris issued the first number of the Birmingham Gazette, or
the General Correspondent,a newspaper which in 1743 changed its name
to Aris's Birmingham Gazette, and has so continued ever since. Mr.
Aris died in 1761 at his residence, Holloway Head, to which he had only a

short time before retired from his active and useful life.

1i60o

,but

Life

of William Hutton.

I could not, as my life was at stake, give up the contest;
thought, if I could once get under his roof, I should not
easily be discharged. Though his manner was repelling as the
rain, and his appearance horrid as the night, yet I would not
part from him, but insensibly at length wormed myself in.
I was now in a room ten feet square, dignified with the
name of house, totally dark, except a glow of fire, which would
barely have roasted a potato had it been deposited in the
centre. In this dismal abode I heard two female voices, one
that of an old aunt, the other a young wife.
We all sat close to this handful of fire, as every one must
who sat in the room. We soon became familiarized by conversation, and I found him agreeable. He " apologized for
not treating me with more civility; he pitied my case, but had
no conveniences for admission."
Hints were now given of retiring to rest. "I will thank
you," says I, " for something to eat; I have had nothing since
morning when at Birmingham."
" We should have asked you,
but we have nothing in the house." " I shall be satisfied with
anything." " We have no eatables whatever, except some
pease-porridge, which is rather thin, only pease and water,
" It will be acceptable to a
which we are ashamed to offer."
hungry man."
He gave me to understand " he had buried a wife, by whom
he had children grown up. Being inclined to marry again, he
did not choose to venture upon a widow, for fear of marrying
her debts, therefore had united with a girl thirty years younger
than himself, by whom he had two small children, then in
bed." This I considered an excuse for misconduct.
While supper was warming, for hot it could not be, a light
was necessary, but alas, the premises afforded no candle. To
supply the place, a leaf was torn from a shattered book, twisted
round, kindled, and shook in the hand to improve the blaze.
By this momentary light I perceived the aunt, who sat opposite, had a hare-shorn lip, which, in the act of eating, so affected
me that I was obliged to give up my supper.
By another lighted leaf we marched up to bed. I could
perceive the whole premises consisted of two rooms, house
and chamber. In the latter was one bed and two pair of
bedsteads. The husband, wife, aunt, and two children occupied the first; and the bedstead whose head butted against
their bedside, was appropriated for me. But now another

Life of William Hultton.

I6I

difficulty arose: there were no bedclothes to cover me.
Upon diligent inquiry nothing could be procured but the
wife's petticoat, and I could learn she robbed her own bed to
supply mine. I heard the rain batter upon the thatch during
the night, and rejoiced it did not batter upon me.
By the light of next morning I had a view of the family
faces, except the aunt's, which was covered with a slouched
hat. The husband seemed to have been formed in one of
Nature's coarsest moulds. His hands retained the accumulated filth of the last three months, garnished with half a dozen
scabs, both, perhaps, the result of idleness. The wife was
young, handsome, ragged, and good-natured.
The whole household, I apprehend, could have cast a
willing eye upon breakfast; but there seemed a small embarrassment in the expectants. The wife, however, went to her
next neighbour's, about a mile, and in an hour returned with a
jug of skimmed milk and a piece of a loaf, perhaps two pounds,
both of which I have reason to think were begged, for money,
I believe, was as scarce as candle. Having no fire, we ate it
cold, and with a relish.
When I left the house, I saw the devastations made by the
rioters, a herd of monsters I have since had reason to dread.
He went with me half a mile, to lay me into something like
a track, when I gave him a shake of the hand and a sixpence,
with my sincere thanks. We parted upon the most friendly
terms.
Though I seemingly received but little, yet a favour is great
or small, according to the wants of the receiver.
I had seen poverty in various shapes, but this was the most
complete. There appeared, however, in that lowest degree,
a considerable share of content. He might have married a
widow and her debts with safety, for no creditor durst have
meddled. Neither need he have dreaded a gaol, except from
the loss of liberty, for he would have risen in point of luxury.
I had also seen various degrees of idleness, but none
surpassed this. Those wants cannot merit pity which idleness might, but will not, prevent.
On the loth of April" I entered Birmingham for the third
time, to try if I could be accommodated with a small shop,
* The MS. says, "At Lady Day I came to Birmingham to try," &c.
M

162

Li/e of William Huzdon.

for if I could procure anzy situation, I should be in the way
I traversed the streets of
of procuring a better. [On the
Birmingham.]
I agreed with Mrs. Dix for the lesser half of her shop,
No. 6, in Bull Street, for one shilling a week,* and slept at
Lichfield in my way back to Nottingham. Returning to Nottingham I gave warning at Southweli, and prepared for a total
change of life.
On May 1 3 th, Mr. Rudsdall, a dissenting minister of Gainsborough, with whom my sister had lived as a servant, travelling
from Nottingham to Stamford, requested my company, and
offered to pay my expenses and give me eighteenpence a
day for my time. The afternoon was wet in the extreme. He
asked why I did not bring my great-coat ? Shame forbade an
answer, or I could have said I had none. The water completely soaked through my clothes, but not being able to
penetrate the skin, it filled my boots. Arriving at the inn,
every .traveller, I found, was wet, and every one procured a
change of apparel but me. I was left out, because the house
could produce no more. I was obliged to sit the whole
evening in my drenched garments, and to put them on nearly
as wet on my return the next morning! What could I expect
but destruction? Fortunately, I sustained no injury.
During this interval it happened that Mr. Rudsdall declined
hiousekeeping, his wife being dead. He told my sister he should
-part with the refuse of his library, which he would sell to me.
She replied, " He has no money." "We shall not differ about
Let him come to Gainsborough; he shall have them at
that.
his own price." I walked in one day, stayed there the second,
and back the third, [i 5 th, 16th, and 17th of May].
The books were about two hundredweight. He gave me his
corn-chest for their deposit, and for payment drew the following note, which I signed:
"I promise to pay to Ambrose Rudsdall one pound seven
shillings when I am able," which I signed, and he observed,
"You never need pay this note if you only say you are not
able."
They made a better show than all I had besides, and
were more valuable.

ith,

* It is worthy of note that the year in which Hutton thus fixed his future
life at Birmingham was the same which saw Baskerville's first attempts at
printing in the same town,

Life of William Hutton.

I163

[I had now a most severe trial to undergo; parting with my
friends, and residing wholly among strangers.]
May 23, I left
Nottingham, and arrived at Birmingham the 25 th. Having
little to do but look into the street, it seemed singular to see
thousands of faces pass but not ore that I knew. I had
entered a new world, in which I led a melancholy life; a life of
silence and tears. Though a young man and rather of a
cheerful turn, it was remarked that " I was never seen to smile."
The rude family into which I was cast added to the load of
melancholy.
My brother came to see me about six weeks after my arrival,
to whom I remarked " that the trade had filly supported me."
Five shillings a week covered every expense, as food, rent,
washing, lodging, &c.
Thus a solitary year rolled round, when a few young mel of
elevated character and sense took notice of me. The first was
Samuel Salt, a mercer's apprentice, who five years after left to
reside in London, where he acquired ioo,oool. He died in
Our friendship lasted his life. The next was William
1797.
Ryland. We entered in a link through a harmony of cast
which only death can break.
I saved this year about 20o., and became more reconciled
to my situation.
In this first opening of prosperity, an unfortunate circumstance
occurred which gave me great uneasiness, as it threatened
totally to eclipse the small prospect before me. The overseers,
fearful I should become chargeable to the parish, examined me
with regard to my settlement, and with the voice of authority
ordered me to procure a certificate, or they would remove me.
Terrified, I wrote to my father, who returned for answer "that
All Saints', in Derby) never granted certificates."
I was hunted by ill-nature two years. I repeatedly offered
to pay the levies, which was refused.
A succeeding overseer,
a draper, of whom I had purchased two suits of clothes, value
Iol., consented to take them. The scruple exhibited a short
sight, a narrow principle, and the exultations of power over the
defenceless.
1751.

Among others I had two friends who wished to serve me,
Mr. Dowler, a surgeon [who resided opposite to me] and Mr.
Grace, a hosier [at the Gateway, in the High Street, menM2

S64

Life

tioned in the year

of William Hutton.
I741].

Great consequences often arise

from little things. The house adjoining that of Mr. Grace's in
the High Street, was to be let. Both urged me to take it. I
was frightened at eight pounds rent. However, both persuaded;
one drew and the other pushed till they placed me there. A
small house is too large for a man without furniture, and a
small rent may be too large for an income which has nothing
.certain in it but the smallness. Having felt the extreme of
poverty, I dreaded nothing so much; but I believed I had
caught the golden ball and was loth to lose it.
Here I pursued business in a more elevated style, and with
more success.
In August, my sister came to see me, and brought a young
lady as an intended wife. They stayed a few days. She was
tolerably handsome, and appeared agreeable. But love is a
delicate and shy bird, not always caught at first sight; besides,
everything formal operates against it. We behaved with civility, but neither of us taking fire, the matter died away.
[I had been nearly a year in Birmingham, and had not indulged myself with any new clothes. My best coat now had been
my best coat five years. Frederick Prince of Wales died in
March; I dressed in a suit of mourning. My new clothes introduced me to some new acquaintances; among others, to
William Ryland, one of the worthiest of men, with whom I contracted a close and intimate friendship, which has continued
46 years, and is only to be broken by death.]
1752.

I had now a smiling trade, to which I closely attended; and
a happy set of acquaintances whose society gave me pleasure.
As I hired out books, the fair sex did not neglect the shop.
Some of them were so obliging as to show an inclination to
share with me the troubles of the world.
Placed at ease, I again addressed the Muses; and, as I
thought, properly applied my talent and with better success
than five years before. Some of my productions crept into the
Magazines and other periodical papers, but all plunged into
the fire at the riots.
Attention enabled me to abstract a small sum from trade,
and I frequently amused myself with marshalling in battalia
fifty bright guineas, a sight I had not been accustomed to.
No man can thrive without saving as well as getting.

Life of William Hutton.

165

1753.

I was taken ill of a fever, and was attended by my friend,
Dr. Dowler, who seemed to be staggered at my situation, and
staggered me by inquiring whether I had any relations and
whether I had made a will.
As stock increased, I wished to extend the trade. Tuesday
being a leisure day, I thought it might be beneficial to open a
I put the plan
shop at Bromsgrove, where it was market-day.
in practice, followed it one year and three-quarters, but
finding I lost nearly as much abroad as I got at home, I declined it.
I also took a housekeeper, which proved less profitable, for
when I was absent she sold the books for what they would
bring, left the shop, and got completely drunk with the money.
An instant separation was needful.
In November my friend and next-door neighbour, Mr. Grace,
being a widower, took his niece, Miss Sally Cock, from Aston*
[near Derby], to keep his house. I saw her the night she arrived, and thought her a little, neat, delicate thing, and rather
handsome. It was impossible, situated as we were, to avoid an
intercourse. Without the least idea of courtship on either side
she seemed to dislike me, which caused a shyness on my side
and kept us at a distance.
The intercourse continued, for, as I had no housekeeper, I
dined there at a stated price.
A young lady of my acquaintance, who had a lover whom
she affected to despise, repeatedly solicited me "to begin a
sham courtship to plague him." " Madam, you know how to
plague him sufficiently without assistance." The man who
plays with edge-tools may by chance cut his fingers. Courtship may begin in jest and end in earnest. Repentance may
follow. She afterwards married him.
1754.

I ventured upon another housekeeper, well recommendedfor business called me out-[by the minister of the congregation, who assured me that she would not cheat me, for she
feared the Lord. He might be right, but she cheated my
* Aston-upon-Trent.

166

Life of W-illiam Hul on.

dumplings one Sunday by setting them to boil without water.
When we returned from Meeting they were burned to a
cinder.] I found her totally unable to conduct a family even
of two people, and much inferior to a shop.
Michaelmas arrived. Miss Cock and I had not, of late, looked
quite so shy upon each other. Mr. Grace was gone toWorcester
market to buy hops. It was nine o'clock, he not come, and
she alone. The night was dark; we stood together at the door
in expectation. I thought she seemed to wish I would not
leave her, but kept me in conversation, and I was not displeased
to be kept. As he rode my horse, I also was interested in his
return. This did not diminish our acquaintance.
I had been introduced to an amiable family at Bromsgrove,
of the name of Tilt, situate within five yards of the shop I kept,
in which were two very agreeable daughters. While the first
year was rolling round, I frequently stepped in, enjoyed a
friendly chat, and thought myself a favourite; nor was I displeased when informed that the father told a friend of his
privately "that I was welcome to either of his daughters."
I usually mounted my horse to return home at four, but
business, one night in October, detaining me till seven, I called
at Mr. Tilt's, and found that daughter alone which I liked best,
thcugh she was not the handsomest. In our conversation,
"Madam, I will stop in Bromsgrove to-night, if you will favour
me with your company ?" " I never will," she replied, "keep
company with any one without my father's consent." This
remark struck me dumb, though I could easily have replied to
it. I consider a parent's consent requisite; yet it is but a
secondary step. How could I tell whether our tempers would
unite ? Whether my stock of prudence, or manner of life, were
suited to her relish; whether they were likely to gain and keep
her affections, and rice versd.
It is time to ask when the young couple see a fair prospect.
That trifling remark, I really believe, broke a match ! A few
insignificant words ensued; I took my leave, returned home,
and never renewed the attempt. There is something extremely delicate in the first approaches of love. Like an
infant, it is easily thrown down, and, like that, too weak to
raise itself up.
While conversing with my neighbour, Miss Cock, in
November, I remarked " I perceived a growing affection for
her, and should take no pains to check it." She did not re-

Life

of William Hutton.

167

ceive this short declaration with the least disrespect. Our intimacy increased.
By the time Christmas arrived, our hearts united without
efforts on either side. Time had given numberless opportunities of observing each other's actions, and trying the tenour
of conduct by the touchstone of prudence. Courtship is often
a disguise. We had seen each other when disguise was useless.
Besides, nature had given to few women a less portion of
deceit.
I never courted her, nor she me; yet we, by the close union
with which we were cemented, were travelling towards the
temple of Hymen without conversing upon the subject. Such
are the happy effects of reciprocal love.
1755-

AltIhough there was no formal courtship between us, nor did
we ever spend one evening together past ten, nor that without
company, yet Mr. Grace began to suspect us. As the affair
opened, his anger kindled. He tried at a separation; complained of ill-treatment; " had given up the thoughts of marriage, because suited with a housekeeper whom he was likely
to lose in so short a space as fifteen months."
Though money had been in circulation many thousand years,
and its properties often examined, yet those properties are not
fully known. Mr. Grace had a doubtful debt owing at Moseley,
of about seven pounds. He asked me to accompany him to
solicit payment. I consented. He was very cross, and treated
me with scolding language all the way, expressive of his aversion
to the match. I was silent.
Unexpectedly he received the money, 'which gave an instant
turn to his temper, and from that moment he became goodhumoured and promoted the match all in his power! Such
are the wonderful effects of money. He hinted, at the same
time, that I had been apt to change, but hoped I would not
use Sally ill. I assured him I had too much love to injure
her.
Our courtship now went on publicly, though always a dayight courtship.

March 21, he and I went to Aston to treat with her parents.
As I ever detested being a spunger, I wished to have in the
first instance as much as they chose to give, for I knew I
should never ask after. I answered faithfully whatever

i68

Life of William Hultlon.

questions were asked, and showed the progressive state of my
circumstances, which was an accumulation of two hundred
pounds. They offered'one hundred. I replied, "It is rather
too little." "You cannot," said her mother with mildness, for
she was one of the best women that ever lived, "desire more
than we can give."
Struck with this reasonable reply, I could not call in one
word to object. Had she offered me nothing, I could not
have given up my dear girl. She asked " What settlement ?"
[The father was a yeoman, who farmed his own estate, and
the mother had a settlement.] I said a settlement was useless,
for she had one hundred, and I had two- so that she would
be certain of her thirds, whatever happened. She asked me
next morning, " What were my sentiments of the match ?" " I

would consider of it." She little suspected how near that
living treasure lay to my heart.
The next day I rode to Derby to see some friends, and the
next to Nottingham to see my sister, whom I had not seen
for four years. I told her my errand, and rather regretted that
the fortune was small. She replied, "Fortune is a trifle ; what
is the woman ?"

" To my wish."

" Then she has a fortune

within her."
During our intimacy two young men came from Derbyshire
who had been distant lovers, to renew their efforts, but in vain.
No offers, however advantageous, I believe, could have detached one from the other. Thus was that pure flame
kindled which, forty-one years after, gave rise to the following
remark. Three months before her death, when she was so
afflicted with an asthma that she could neither walk, stand, sit, or
lie, but while on a chair I was obliged to support her head,
I told her "she never approached me without diffusing a
ray of pleasure over the mind, except when any little disagreement had happened between us." She replied, "I can say
more than that. You never appeared in my sight, even in
anger, without that sight giving me pleasure." I received the
dear remark, as I now write it, with tears.
I parted with my dull housekeeper, gave notice to quit at
Bromsgrove, sold my horse, and ate at the table with Mr.
Grace and my dear love, without any plan of the future.
June 23, I awoke before seven, and ruminating on the first
object of my life; "What am I waiting for? I have nothing to
expect, no end to answer, by delay; that which must be done

Life of William Hutton.
in future may as well be done now.

169

I will rise, and tell her

she must be no longer single. Fixing a future day, without
some reason, is only fixing a shackle."

Mr. Grace and she received the information as a thing unexpected. We applied for a licence, and went through the
uniting ceremony at St. Philip's Church.* While her hand
was in mine, holding the ring, I gave it a squeeze almost unknown to myself; she told me afterwards the "squeeze revived
her spirits."
Thus I experienced another important change, and one I
never wished to unchange.

No event in a man's life is more consequential than marriage,
nor is any more uncertain. Upon this die his sum of happiness
depends.
Pleasing views arise, which vanish as a cloud,

because, like that, they have no foundation. Circumstances
change, and tempers with them. Let a man's prior judgment
be ever so sound, he cannot foresee a change, therefore he

cannot guard against one, but is liable to deception.

I was

deceived myself, but, thanks to my kind fate, it was on the right
side.
I found in her more than ever I expected in woman. Just
in proportion as I loved her, I must lament her loss. If
my father, with whom I only lived fourteen years, who loved
Through the courtesy of the rector of St. Philip's, the Rev. G. M.
Yorke, I am enabled to give the following copy of the entry of this marriage
in the register of that parish :'" 1755, page 17. Marriage solemnized in the parish of St. Philip's,
Birmingham, in the county of Warwick, No. 65. William Hutton, of this
parish, bachelor, and Sarah Cox, of this parish, spinster, were married in
this church by licence, this twenty-third day of June, in the year one
thousand seven hundred and fifty-five, by me, Jno. Ward, minister.
( William Hutton.
This marriage was solemnized between us Sarah Cox.
In the presence of

William Grace."
Francis Ryland.

It will be noticed here that the maiden name of the bride is written
Cox not Cock, and I suspect that the reason of the lady herself thus
signing the name in this incorrect manner is to be accounted for in this
way : The clergyman, Mr. Ward, having entered the name, as will be
seen, Cox, would naturally desire that the signature should be the same,
and probably desired her so to write it. The name of the lady was Cock,
not Cox, as is evidenced by the registers of Aston-on-Trent, where she was
born, and where her family resided. The entries at Aston are all Cock, as
will be seen by extracts given in another part of this volume.

170

Lie of William Hutton.

me less, and has been gone forty, never is one day out of my
thoughts, what must be those thoughts towards her who loved
me as herself, and with whom I resided an age!
I756.

My dear wife brought me a little daughter, who has been
the pleasure of my life to this day. We had now a delightful
plaything.*
Robert Bage, t an intimate friend, and paper-maker, took me
to his inn, [where we spent the evening. He] proposed that I
should sell paper for him, by commission or purchase, on my
own account. As I could spare two hundred pounds, I chose
" This daughter, his first child, was Catherine Hutton, who was born on
the I Ith of February, 1756. She never married, and was the constant, affectionate, and solicitous companion of her father to the day of his death.
She was a woman of remarkable shrewdness and talent, and possessed
one of the mildest of dispositions and best of memories. As a writer,
Catherine Hutton is well known, and to her, besides several works of fiction,
the world is indebted for the careful and circumstantial account of the last
years of her father's life, which will be found, with more extended particulars
of himself, in another part of the present volume. She died on the 13th of
March, 1846, in her ninety-first year. (See also page 44 ante.)
t Robert Bage, whom William Hutton, both here and in another part
of this work, alludes to, was born at Darley, near Derby, on the Ist of
February, 1728. His father was a paper-maker, whose career presents
nothing worthy of remark, except the fact of his having married four wives.
Robert was the son of the first wife, who did not long survive his birth.
He is said to have been a very clever boy, and before his eighth year to
have made considerable progress in Latin. Although brought up to his
father's business of a paper-maker, he was always fond of classical studies,
and found time for their pursuit. "At the age of twenty-three he married,"
says Mr, Kirke, in an admirable article in the Reliquary, vol. x., "a
young woman of great beauty, good sense, good temper, and money, and
soon afterwards began business as a paper-maker at Elford, near Tamworth.
Though he attended strictly to business and made the best paper in the
country, he yet found time to study both French and mathematics, in which
he attained great proficiency. In 1765, Bage entered into partnership with
three persons (one of them the celebrated Dr. Darwin) in an extensive
manufacturing firm. The speculation proved unfortunate, and Bage lost a
considerable sum of money, He turned for consolation to literary studies,
partly as a means of distraction, and partly in the hope of making some
money, of which he seems at this period of his life to have been in some
need. 'Mount Henneth,' his first work, was published in I78I, and in the
preface the author says with regard to the want of money which he
experienced, 'The unfortunate cause of this I ams unable to discover; but
the predisposing and occasional cause I once presumed to think lay hid in
the heads and tails of the female part of my family, which within a few

Life of William Hullon,
to purchase, appropriated a room

17 I

for its reception, adver-

tised, and hung out a sign : THE PAPER WAREHOUSE

the first

in Birmingham. From this small hint I followed the trade for
forty years, and acquired many thousand pounds.
years have suffered an amazing expansion. This, my daughters assure me,
is an error of the first concoction. It is true, they say, ladies in their style
of life must conform to the fashion, and people who don't understand things
are apt to imagine that they must be attended with a great deal of expense
but people who know life, like my daughters, know how to make a little go
a long way. In short, I am convinced I have injured the dear creatures by
my suspicions, and to make them amends, have laid the whole burden to
the account of the American War. But my daughters must have new silk
gowns.'
l
His second work
"' Mount Henneth' was sold to Lowndes for 30
was ' Barhar Downs,' published in 2 vols., 1784. His other works were
puiblished, 'The Fair Syrian,' 2 vols., 1787; 'James Wallace,' 3 vols.,
I 88; ' Man as he is,' 4 vols., 1792; 'Hermsprung, or man as he is not,'
3 vols., 1796. In most cases, authors who live as long as Bage write themselves out, and their adimirers are compelled to wish for the sake of their
reputation that they had ceased to publish after the production of their
more famous works, and I think Bage is without parallel in that his last work is
decidedly his best. Bage died on September Ist, 18oI. His health had been
failing for some time previously, and he seemed to have expected his death
could not be far distant. In October, 18oo, he visited his old friend Hutton,
at Birmingham, and on leaving the house he shook hands with Samuel
IIutton, his friend's great-nephew, and said to him, 'Farewell, my dear
lad, we shall meet again in heaven.' The last three years of his life were
spent at Tamworth, whither he had removed from Elford. He had three
sons, one of whom died as he was approaching manhood. Charles, the
eldest, settled at Shrewsbury, as the proprietor of a cotton manufactory,
and died in 1822, oet. 70. Edward, the youngest, was a surgeon and
apothecary, at Tamworth."
Robert Bage's personal appearance and character are thus described by
Sir Walter Scott, the particulars being supplied to him by Catherine
In person, Robert Bage was rather under the middle size, and
Hutton :-"
rather slender, but well proportioned. His complexion was fair and ruddy;
his hair light and curling, his countenance intelligent, yet mild and placid.
His mahiners were courteous and his mind was firm. His integrity, his
honour, his devotion to truth; were undeviating and incorruptible; his
humanity, benevolence, and generosity were not less conspicuous in private
life than they were in the principal characters of his works. He supplied
personis he never saw with money, because he heard they were in want.
He kept his servants and his horses to old age, and both men and quadrupeds were attached to him. He behaved to his sons with the unremitting
affection of a father, but as they grew up, he treated them as men and
equals, and allowed them the independence of mitid arid conduct which he
claimed for himself."
William Hutton himself thus wrote of his friend Robert Bage during his
lifetime :"--" If we find a pleasure in drawing a valuable character which

172

Life of William Huton.

During the first year after marriage, I accumulated eighty
pounds. In May, Mr. Grace thought his breath short, and
sent for a surgeon, who opened a vein as wide as a water-cock.
Twobasins were filled in about two minutes. Afainting-fit ensued.
has left the stage, that pleasure must be double when we treat of those that
still adorn it, because we then revere both the character and the man : this,
in the present case, is my pleasant task. The man I now delineate is a
native of Derby, but left it at an early period. He amuses the world and
himself with novel productions of a superior class, as 'Mount Henneth,'
'Barham Downs,' 'The Fair Syrian,' 'James Wallace,' &c., wherein is an
excellent picture of life, a full display of character and sentiment. These
have travelled to the Continent, passed through the Frankfort press, and
appeared to the world in a German habit.
"Although Fortune never made him conspicuous in the great world, she
gave him what is preferable-affluence and content. In directing a papermill may be found that head which is able to direct empires; that judgment which can decide in difficult cases; a penetration which can fathom
the human heart, and comprehend various systems of knowledge ; a genius
which constitutes the companion for Newton in philosophy, for Handel in
music, for Euclid in mathematics; a master of the living and dead
languages; and all, like the wealth of a merchant who rises from nothing,
acquired by himself. Nay, I should even rank him with that learned body,
the physicians, if he was not defective in one branch of the profession-the
art of killing. That rectitude, which is rarely found, is here obscured from
the public eye ; but is a pearl of great price, and a credit to our species.
Though a diminutive figure, yet one of the most amiable of men; and
though barely a Christian, yet one of the best. I have known him fifty-six
years: his friendship is an honour-I have long possessed it-to which I
shall add another, by uniting his name with my own. Should he frown at
this liberty, I will say twice as much; should he retort, I will take my
revenge by drawing a complete character, for he has amply furnished me
with materials."
Apart from their political and moral, or immoral, sentiments, the writings
of Robert Bage deserve high praise. His style is easy and flowing. His
sentences, though sometimes over long, are never complicated, and their
meaning is always apparent. His humour is genuine and original; and
throughout his works there seems to run a latent irony which is the more
telling through being in most cases so delicately veiled. His description of
human weaknesses, and the faculty with which in a few words he sums up
a whole class of men, is very surprising and ingenious. Like Richardson,
Smollett, and Fielding, his chief success lies in his delineation of character;
all the incidents in his works, and they are numerous, tend to that end, and
that end alone. By modern readers the absence of any plot worthy of the
name may make his works to be considered tedious; but by those who
consider novel writing as a means for bringing before us living characters,
his books will be read with the greatest pleasure. Though inferior to his
immediate predecessors in this particular forte, which is common to them all,
Bage seems to have united with it a love of Nature and a power of describing
her beauties which is peculiar to himself alone. Though his descriptions

Life of .William Hutton:

173

,This, by impoverishing the blood, brought on a dropsy. His
physician, by the use of oxymel squills, drew off the water.
Supposing health returned, and discontented with his situation, took a wife October 20oth. As the power of the squills
declined, the disorder increased.
My dear love, far gone in her second pregnancy, was
attacked with a swelling in her left breast. We dreaded approaching cancer.

1757.
Mr. Grace grew worse, and February the 1st departed, after
having a marriage of fourteen weeks. The use of his property
he left to his wife; which at her death was part to be divided
into legacies among his, relations, and the residue to me, in
right of his niece, as residuary legatee.
As all his property was personalty, I judged it precarious:
but the widow, perfectly honest, agreed to assign all to me for
an annuity, for which I gave security. She enjoyed it only one
year and a half, when she was called away. I paid the
legacies, and my dear wife might be said now to have brought
in three, to my two, hundred pounds.
Feb. 17, she was delivered of a son, Thomas, who is now,
the support of my age. Her afflicted breast
July i4,
festered, broke, and underwent many surgical operations. It re-

1798,

*

*

may read tame to us at the present day, yet he shows by his minute observation and critical appreciation of scenery, that he was not one of those upon
whose eyes the world is but a reflected image, but one to whose heart
Nature speaks in a thousand tongues, each telling some word of truth and
beauty. In every one of Bage's works may be found passages of great beauty
and thought, and reflections which show that he was keenly alive to some
of the leading follies of the age in which he lived, and prove him to have
been a writer of no common powers or ability. He died the Istof September, i8oi, and his friend Hutton wrote a memoir of him for the
Monthly Magazine for December of that year, and thud in his own "Life"
speaks of him:-" My worthy friend, Robert Bage, whom I had known
sixty-six years, and with whom I had lived upon the most intimate terms of
friendship during fifty-one; a person of the most extraordinary parts, and
who has not left behind him a man of more honour or generosity." Some
letters from Bage to Hutton will be found in another part of this volume.
* This was Thomas Hutton, who succeeded his father in his business,
and who formed the family library of valuable and choice books. He
married, in 1793, Mary Reynolds, of Shiffnal, but had no issue, and died on
the iloth of August, 1845, aged 89. Some particulars of him will be found
in other parts of this volume.

'74

Life of

Willi

n Hutton.

covered, but neither that nor the milk returned to their pristine
state.
Attention will increase business; nor was it possible to avoid
attention, for the pleasure of providing for a beloved family is
inconceivable. As room was wanted, I kept both houses in my
hands, resided in Mr. Grace's, and converted mine into a warehouse.
I758.

I perceived more profit would arise from the new trade than
the old; that blank paper would speak in fairer language than
printed. One could only furnish the head, but the other would
line the pocket ; and the fat kine would tend to devour the lean.
These larger profits, however, could only arise from larger
returns, and these would demand a capital.
Few men can bear prosperity. It requires a considerable
share of knowledge to know when we are well; for it often
happens that he who is well, by attempting to become better,
becomes worse. It requires resolution to keel well. If there
was a profit to the seller, I concluded there must be one to the
maker. I coveted both. Upon this erroneous principle I
wished for a paper-mill.
I procured all the intelligence I could relative to the fabrication of paper ; engaged an artist to make the model of a mill. I
attended to business, and nursed my children, while the year ran
round.
Qn the 2nd of July my dear love brought another son,
William,* so that I had three to nurse, and all of whom I frequently carried together in my arms. This I could not do
without a smile, while he who had none perhaps viewed the act
with envy.
[Dec. 13, my father died.] I
This child died on the 19th of May, I760, as will be seen under that
year's heading.
t "After a miserable life, pressed down by affliction, he departed,
December 13th, 1758, at the age of sixty-seven. Five feet seven, corpulent,
weighing about sixteen stone," writes his son.
He was buried in All
Saints' churchyard, Derby, of which William Hutton wrote--" While in
solemn thought I range over these gloomy regions of the dead, and peruse
the names I have long known amongst the vast number of 'Here Lies,' I
reflect with sorrow that here lies the dust of my family; characters of still
life, who lived their day and retired."

Life of William Huon.

I75

-759.
Perfectly mill-mad, I continued to mature this wild-goose
scheme. I ought to have been contented with my present lot;
for, upon taking stock at Midsummer, we had saved that year,
exclusive of all expenses, one hundred and thirty-seven pounds.
It pleased us both, and sufficiently rewarded the hand which
had kept a steady stroke.
At Midsummer, too, I took a lease of two acres of waste land
upon Handsworth Heath, of Mr. Wyrley, for ninety-nine years
at twenty shillings per annum, and began to build a mill. Till
now I knew what I was doing. My property then was, exclusive of furniture, &c., seven hundred and seventy-seven pounds.

I760.
Wanting a horse, I applied to a neighbour who had one to
dispose of. After the usual askings and biddings, I offered six
guineas. " No, he is worth ten. I will take him to Stourbridge
fair." Being refused, I went there, saw the horse, and bid the
same money; was again refused, and came back without. He
also returned unsold. The owner next day offered him at my
price, and I closed.
We now enter a melancholy year. It is not possible to
be connected with the world and not taste its bitters; but sometimes they are administered in large draughts, which overcome
and cast down the individual.
My dear wife, while big of her fourth child, was afflicted
with the jaundice, which baffled every remedy and brought her
low. Her life was despaired of, and I unhappy.
Our youngest son, William, two years old, was taken ill,
continued four weeks, and on the 9 th of May we lost him.
The next day my dear love was delivered of another son,
Soon after, my son Thomas was taken with the
William.*
measles, then with the small-pox.
Before he recovered, my daughter fell ill of both, and was reduced to great danger. Then the young infant William was
attacked.
Extreme grief for the loss of my son brought the jaundice
upon me, kept me long between life and death, nor did I return
out of danger till Michaelmas. [Among other remedies, my

1

* Born May 2oth, I76o, and died April 3rd, 1767.

I176

Life of William Hulton.

physician -prescribed a bolus of such magnitude that I could
not attempt to swallow it till it was cut in pieces. It produced
seventeen large pills.] Many a tear did my dear wife shed, for
fear of losing me, and, to preserve my life, ran the utmost hazard
of her own.
[I got on horseback as soon as I was able; but I did not return to health till Michaelmas, when a journey to Nottingham recovered me. In one of my airings, a pompous, unfeeling man,
who thought himself my superior, called out, "So! you are going
to the devil I see !"]
176.

I still pursued '"e
mill scheme, till lost in a labyrinth. The
workmen saw - f ignorance and bit me at pleasure.
" Let us
fleece Hutton; he has money." I discharged them all, let the
work stand, and left myself at rest.
To confirm the health of my dear wife, entertain my daughter,
a delightful prattler, and son just put into breeches, I treated
them with a journey to Aston and Nottingham, where they
made a stay of many weeks, and induced me to make six
journeys. In the first of these I saw the transit of Venus over
the sun's disk. She appeared a small black spot moving over
the face of the sun, the size of a large fly or bee. I think it was
the 5th of June.*
* The following delightful and highly interesting letter, written by
Hutton to his wife, while staying on a visit in Nottingham, will be read
with considerable pleasure. The journey was on horseback from Notting-

ham to Birmingham. His little son, Thomas, rode in front of him on the
horse on a pillow. He was then four years old.
"Madam,-I think the time of your absence very long, but lay a restraint
upon myself that you, while you are out, may enjoy your friends with satisfaction. Now you are absent, I often wish I had drawn more sweetness

from your company while I had it; but when I am blessed with it again,
perhaps I shall neglect as before.
" I shall now give you our unfortunate return, or the History of July the
First.
" After I left you, we jogged on soberly to Wiln, and while I was putting
on one of Tom's gloves, I lost the other. I returned in quest of it, and
found it. We reached Aston at ten, ate furmity; Tom resumed his whip
and old employment of drubbing the pigs-so full of play, he could not find
time to eat, and often repeated the words-'I'll stay at Aston.' However,
I got him on horseback a quarter-past eleven. He fell asleep in the Field,
which was worse road than I ever knew it, occasioned by the heavy rains
the night before. I missed Burton, and went over the moor. When almost

Life of William Hutton.

177

It appeared plain, though I could not see it, that the millwrights would not suffer me to rest while my property lasted.
One of them was set on to persuade me, as I had given up the
paper-mill, " at what a small expense it might be converted into
a corn-mill, and what mazing profit would attend it !" while I,

unwilling it should lie dormant, and still a dupe, was caught in
the lure.
1762.

In March my dear love was delivered of a still-born son.
Was much injured, health hurt, which induced me to take her
to Aston. We went in a chaise, at sixpence a mile, the first
time we either of us rode in one. She ever after complained
of a pain in her left side.
I found as a miller I was cheated on all sides which induced
me again to discharge the people, and, suffer the mill to stand
with a determination never to move it again. I also sold my
horse for four guineas, resolving to keep no more.
Mr. Honeyborn thought the mill would answer his purpose
at Branstone, says Tom, 'Your bags* are coming off!' I looked, and saw
the saddle-straps hanging, and the great-coat actually lost. I returned
without any hesitation upon the full trot and fret, hurt the lad with going
so fast, was heartily sorry, but could not help it-durst not leave him on the
moor for twenty coats, and no house near. Got into the turnpike road;
hallooed to a man who did not hear me. Saw a man with a cart coming
from Burton: 'I have lost a great-coat; did you see any passengers ?'
'Yes, I saw a post-chaise pass, but I saw no coat.' I made haste to the
town : Tom cried. I was grieved to the heart for him, and could have cried
for pity; called at the first house, 'Please to take care of this little boy till
I call for him.' Rode into the town. 'Did you see a chaise come this
way?' 'Yes, they called at The Queen's.' Went to The Queen's. 'Is
there a chaise come inhere, madam?' '
Yes, that's the driver.' 'Did you
see a great-coat on your road ? I've lost one.' 'Yes, I found one on this
side the Coach and Horses, and am drinking a quart of cyder upon the strength
of it. Did not you come from Nottingham this morning?'
'Yes,' I
returned, 'and I saw you there.' It proved to be the very man and chaise
that passed by us upon the sand-hills while I gave you the parting kiss, and
asked if I was going to Derby. I paid for the cyder and gave him a
shilling. 'Hostler, prithee put up my horse, and I'll go fetch my lad.'
Walked back, found him with a piece of bread-and-butter,t and the master
* Saddle-bags.
t The "lad," now eighty-four years of age, perfectly remembers having

dined on cabbage and bacon before the bread-and-butter was given him.Note by CatherineHutton.

178

Life of William Hutlon.

in polishing brass nails; and, after much pro and con, I consented to sell it for eighty guineas and take his bond bearing

interest.
Upon examining my accounts, for they were very minute, I
found I had lost, in cash, twvo hundred and weenty-nine pounds /
Add to this the loss of three years of the prime part of my life,
when trade was*prosperous, besides losing the money which
would have supported that trade, and at a time when I had no
opponent, I considered myself a sufferer of at least ioool.
I was so provoked at my folly, that I followed up business
with redoubled spirit, cast up stock every quarter, and could not
rest till I had brought my affairs into a successful line. The
first quarter after sale, from Midsummer to Michaelmas, I aug-

mented my fortune twenty-nine pounds.
For all my inconsiderate follies, my dear wife never once
upbraided me; but I could not refrain upbraiding myself, and
if a man accuses himself, there is no need to accuse him. I had
drained the trade so much, to feed the mill, that I had but few
goods to sell; the consequence was, I lost the customers and
the sale.
waiting on him with a mug of drink. I returned thanks and something
more; took my lad, and refreshed at the inn while he played with the cat.
Set off at four, got to Branston turnpike, and perceived one of the horse's
shoes lost; left Tom at the house, while I went back to a smith. Certainly,
this is an unfortunate day-unprovidencious among the religious-unlucky
at Aston. I undertook it as a journey of pleasure. Does it answer my expectation? Not yet! Mounted, in hopes my difficulties were over. Upon
Fradley Heath Tom slept, and his hat would not stay on. I carried it in
my bhand-this is a sorry makeshift; before I was over the Heath, perceived
I had lost the band [this was a gold one]; was so provoked I could almost
have thrown the hat away to prevent losing it. However, I reduced it to
the form of a dishclout and crammed it into my pocket. I've got more
than half-way [the whole way was fifty-six miles], have had four losses; I may
reasonably expect to have three more; began to think of some method of
securing the lad by straps or cords lest I should lose himn, for I durst hardly
trust my senses, and often looked behind me to see if coat or bags were
giving me the slip again. Stayed a few minutes at Sutton, had a pint of
ale, and Tom a bit bread-and-butter. Had some thoughts of staying all
of
night lest the lad should take cold in the evening. I consulted Tom, who
had rather lie in his own bed; slept most of the way. Got home before
eleven, had much ado to thunder them up; Pat almost cried at the sight of
him. I was tired. Tom had rather play than go to bed; lay with me,
and in the morning cried to ride to grass.
" I am almost as tired with repeating as performing the journey. Fare
thee well, love.-W. H.
"To Mrs. Hutton, Nottingham."

Life of William Hutton.

I 9

I763.

We took several pleasurable journeys; among others, one to
Aston, and in a superior style than heretofore. This is the
peculiar advantage of us Birmingham men: if ever we acquire
five pounds extraordinary, we take care to show it.
Business was prosperous; I had no rivals nd I struck the
nail that would drive. I began to doubt wh ther the mill had
been any loss; for the disappointment had raised that commercial spirit which would not have been raised without it.
I never could bear the thought of living to the extent of my
income; never omitted taking stock, or moderating my expenses so as to meet casualties.
1764.

Every man has his hobby-horse, and it is no disgrace prudently to ride him. He is the prudent man who can introduce
cheap pleasure without impeding business.
About ten of us, intimate friends, amused ourselves at
fives.* Entertained with the diversion, we erected a tenniscourt, and assembled on fair evenings for amusement, without
expense. I was constituted steward of our little fraternity.
This harmonious society consisted of John, Samuel, and
William Ryland, Nathaniel Whitehead, Samuel Freeth, William
Medley, Samuel Russell, Thomas Phipson, Samuel Pemberton, William Wright, Joseph Roper, and myself.
My family continued their pleasurable journeys, and were in
a prosperous state.
1765.
When life glides smoothly on, incident is not to be expected.
The man who sleeps in peace, has no tale to tell.
I was summoned upon the Low Bailiff's jury, which was my
first step towards public life.
With our friends, we made a party of pleasure to Dosthill
Spaw; held various conversations; played at various games;
boated on the river; went a fishing ; visited the neighbouring
curiosities, and drew much pleasure into a small compass of
time. Our harmonious company were John Ryland, William
Ryland, Benjamin May, William Hutton, Joseph Price, and
their wives; Thomas Hunt, Thomas Bedford, and Samuel
* The game of "fives" or "tennis."
N2

I8o

Life of William Hutton.

May. My dear little love was dressed in a style that pleased
-- me, however.
Aston journeys continued, and in a rising state.
I766.

%1

There is nothing more common than for a man to be disstate. Something is always wanting; and
contented with
that want, though a trifle, becomes a balance, in his own
esteem, against the many things he enjoys, though any one of
them is equal to the thing wanted. By good fortune, this was
not my case: I, my dear wife, two dear sons, and one
daughter, were in health, and acted to my wish. Trade was
successful, we enjoyed our little pleasures, and lived happily.
Dress, the tennis-court, and our excursions, came of course.
Ever since I was eight years old, I expressed a fondness for
land; often made inquiries about it; and wished to call some
my own. This ardent desire after dirt never forsook me.
But the want of money always prevented me from gratifying
my wish. Nothing makes a man poorer, except gaming. And,
to buy land without money, is often followed with ruin. My
t ade would spare none. Yet this did not expunge the desire,
particularly as the prospect drew nearer.
A paper-maker at Alfrich [in Worcestershire], with whom I
dealt, told me a small farm adjoining his own was upon sale.
He wanted land, and wished me to purchase. I gave him a commission to buy it for 250o. ; let it to him for 201. per annum, and

borrowed all the money. Thus I ventured, and with success,
upon a most hazardous undertaking.
i767.

This year opened with the purchase of another estate, near
Birmingham, copyhold, six acres, for two hundred pounds.
The same person who advanced money for the last purchase,
was to advance it for this. My attorney, an honest loggerhead,
raised a dispute between the lord of the manor and me. This,
upon the day of admission, stopped all proceedings, and the
expected dinner was spoiled.
The case was submitted to counsel, who gave it against me.
The lord threatened revenge; I made the best apology I was
able, which rather softened his resentment; and, when the
scale begins to turn, it subsides apace.
He and his son passing by my door, I bowed and invited

Life of Williamn Hutton.

I8I

them in; made them tipsy; we instantly agreed; and I was
admitted. Who tan deny the use of the bottle ?
By this delay, I was able to pay the money without borrowing. I let it for a brick-yard at 181. per annum. The delph*
failing, I reduced it to 13/., and afterwards sold it for 2501.,
with a resolution never more to purchase copyholds.
In the beginning of this year I was taken ill; then my dear
love, in a most dreadful manner. We thought her under the
hand of death, when the three dear babes and I lamented over
her with tears. We both recovered, but our youngest son,
William, was attacked with a fever. Through the ignorant
operation of the doctor's servant he grew worse, languished
from the i 5 th of March to the 3rd of April, and then he
departed.t
We were inconsolable at the loss of this lovely child, which
was followed by daily tears. I could observe thousands of
faces pass by, which carried every mark of serenity; while our
inward oppression was beyond bearing. Every article which
had been his was prudently kept from my sight; nor durst my
dear wife or I ever mention him during more than ten years,
though he was not one day out of either of our thoughts.
1768.

I bought three acres of land at Handsworth for 1561. paid
one hundred guineas down, and gave my note, six months
after date, for the remainder; let it for nine guineas, and afterwards sold it for 2501o.
The day after this purchase, April 8th, I was chosen Overseer of the Poor, and thought myself elevated beyond my
ancestors; for none, within the reach of tradition, had equalled
than overseers of the poor.
it. They had rather been the
My property was then about 20001ooo/.
Perhaps I was the first overseer in Birmingham that ever
rejoiced at the office. When, in the evening, I met my five
new brethren at the Castle, they were all affected; some provoked, and some cast down, while I kept up the joke, and
brought them to a smile. Some of them afterwards acknowledged
I did them a service.
In the course of the year they had still greater reason to

_poor

* Clay.

t This was the son born in 1760.

182

Life of Williamn Hutton.

thank me; for, by an active conduct, I did not only my own
business, but a considerable part of theirs. I held the chair
twenty-four weeks, though my share was only eight. The most
irksome part of the office was collecting the levies. It grieved
me to take the people's last shilling, which was often the case.
I found great pleasure in giving to distress: but then, it must

be remembered, the money was not mine.
I acquired an agreeable character among the dependent class:
anti my successor told me " I was the favourite of all the old
women." However, I received their daily blessings as I passed
up the streets.
The Lamp Act came upon the carpet. Great opposition
arose, and more by my means than any other person's; and
that for an obvious reason. I occupied two houses which
formed the gateway entering New Street, and they suited me.
Both must come down if the Act passed. All the terms the
opposition could obtain, and which were all I wanted, after
many hundred pounds had been spent, were that the buildings
should not come down, nor be included in the Act.*
The following epitaph on a very small favourite spaniel
which was Hutton's companion in his walks, was written about
I767 or 68 :" If monuments deserve a tear,
This does a sigh-for Trip lies here.
He ne'er made one in warm dispute,
Or cared a straw for Wilkes or Bute.
His private virtues stood the test,
Admired the most when known the best.
Attendants mourned his latter end,
Nor were ashamed to call him friend."

SThat this selfish motive actuated William Hutton in his opposition to
the Act proposed to be obtained for "enlightening and cleansing the
streets" is very apparent, both by this and by another allusion a little later
on. It was an opposition unworthy of the man. The question of lighting
and improving the town had been mooted in 1765, but was strongly opposed,
and the scheme fell into abeyance until December, 1768, when a meeting of
the inhabitants "was held in the chamber over the Cross," when the
matter was earnestly considered, and a committee formed for its furtherance.
The committee "unanimously agreed to petition Parliament for an Act to
light and clean the streets of the town, and likewise to insert the following clauses-viz., to purchase and take down the house in the Bull Ring, in
the possession of Francis Moles; the upper Roundabout house, and the
houses at the end of New Street, belonging to Sir Thomas Gooch and Henry

83

Life of William Hutton.
1769.

I bought half an acre of land at Bennett's-hill, Saltley [near
Washwood-heath], for 401., which cost the seller

I2/.,

with a

view of erecting a house, which, twenty-nine years after, was to
be the-spot where I write this history.
This year I built my house.
I must now quit the office of overseer, which had given me
pleasure, and return to my private station.
I entered upon a gambling scheme in the purchase of land:
for all uncertain bargains come under that description. I
bought the reversion of a small estate at Erdington, of seven
people, for seventy-five guineas, and then bought the possession. It now lets for thirteen guineas.
Carver, Esq." (two of these were the houses occupied by William Hutton);
"to remove nuisances in the streets; and for the removal of the Beast
Market to Dale End. The money for the above purposes to be raised by a
rate upon the inhabitants, not to exceed eightpence in the pound per
annum." A very strenuous opposition, in which Hutton took a prominent
part, was organized by the short-sighted people of Birmingham, who
seemed to prefer continuing in darkness and mire without tax, to cleanliness, light, and wider streets with eightpence in the pound to pay. Despite
all opposition, however, in 1769 the Bill passed the Houses of Parliament,
and shortly afterwards came into operation. Among its provisions, as
relating to William Hutton's premises, the following is an abstract of the
schedule :-" The following buildings are to be taken down in pursuance of
this Act. At the entrance into New Street, four tenements fronting the
High Street-two of them in the occupation of W. Hutton, one of Jn.
Greaves, and one of Tho. Brueton; with five tenements backwards, in the
respective occupations of John Terry, Catherine Wright, Magdalen Hassard,
Richard Walford, and John Ensell. The front towards the High Street
(including the present passage, about twelve feet) being about sixty-four feet;
the front towards New Street, about seventy feet ; the west side, to the alley,
about thirty-three feet ; the south side, to the alley, and projecting into the
High Street, about fifty-five feet." In 1773, an Act was applied for and
obtained, for extending the powers of the former Bill; and the commissioners
soon after announced, "that they intended to treat with the proprietors of
the houses and buildings situate at the end of New Street and in the High
Street, now or late in the respective occupations of Mr. William Hutton,
John Greaves, John Terry, Catherine Wright, Magdalen Hazard, Richard
Walford, and John Ensell, for the purchase of the same, or so much thereof
as they shall think necessary to be taken down in order to render the
entrance into New Street safe and commodious," etc. Thus Birmingham
got its paving and lighting act; got its streets lit with oil lamps; its
nuisances removed; its streets widened, named, and swept; its houses
numbered, and many other improvements made. The oil lamps remained
until 1817, when gas was first introduced into the town.
William Hutton himself, speaking of this "Lamp Act," which he had

184

Life of William Hutton.

I also made two purchases of Dr. Hinckley, at Smethwick.
One, the Shire Ash, thirteen acres, for 2501. Sold the timber
for I261., and let the land for thirteen guineas.*
The other, Spring Dale, eight acres, rool. Then under a
lease for ninety nine years, twenty-four of which were to come,
at 3. per annum. It now lets for ten guineas.'
The more attention a man pays to any undertaking, the
more he is like to succeed. The purchase of land was a
delight, a study, and a profit. I have acquired by it more than
10o,oool.
We saved this year 4797.
770o.

My worthy friend William Ryland, dreading the office of

overseer, offered me twenty guineas to serve it for him. We
took a chaise to Hampstead to solicit Mr. Wyrley's consent,

who gave it. And now I was reinstated in the office; but
this second edition of eminence was unequal to the first, for
then I assumed a real character, but now a borrowed one.
Pride teaches a man to aspire, but I was sinking. Besides,
the novelty was gone. My brethren, if it will bear the name,
treated me with civility; but, as I was an interloper, and knew
been one of the foremost to oppose, in his " History of Birmingham"
says :-"

Order is preserved by industry.

In 1769 an Act was obtained,

and in 1773, an amendment of the Act, for lighting and cleaning the streets
of Birmingham, and for removing obstructions that were prejudicial to the
health or convenience of the inhabitants. These Acts were committed to the
care of about seventy-six irresolute commissioners, with further powers of
preventing encroachments upon public ground, for it was justly observed
that robbery was a work of darkness, therefore to introduce light would, in
some measure, protect property ; that in a town like Birmingham, full of
commerce and inhabitants, where necessity leads to continual action, no
part of the twenty-four hours ought to be dark; that to avoid darkness is
sometimes to avoid insult, and that by the light of 700 lamps, many unfortunate accidents would be prevented. . . . . That necessity pleads
for a wider street now than heretofore, not only because the inhabitants
being more numerous require more room, but the buildings being more
elevated, obstruct the light, the sun, and the air, which obstructions tend to
sickness and inconvenience." " Though the town was averse to the measure,
as an innovation, they quickly saw its utility, and seemed to wish a more
vigorous exertion of the commissioners; but numbers sometimes procrastinate design." Thus his opinions changed, and he became a warm advocate
of town improvement, and ultimately sat as one of the very commissioners
under the Acts he had opposed.
*

" This I sold, June 3, 18oo, for 5001."
sold this in May, 1803, for 4ool."

S"I

Life of William Hutton.

85

the pride of an overseer was great, they might, as I had no
commission, have turned me out of the vestry. As it happened,
I passed the year comfortably, and determined to be the tailend of an overseer no more.
I erected the wings of my house at Bennett's-hill. Went
to Nottingham races, and took my son upon a pony. When
I surveyed the little figure upon the little horse, the strong
affection of a father induced me to think him the prettiest
figure upon the course.
We returned through Mountsorrel, and saw my aunt Jane,*
whom I remembered a beauty, and a haughty one, but now a
decrepit and dependent old woman; also, through Swithland, and saw my aunt Eyre,t both for the last time. Then
took our route through Market Bosworth, and surveyed the
fatal field where Richard fell.t
Passing by Bennett's-hill, we were amazed to see how much
the weeds in the garden had grown in one week; the weather
having been warm, after rain.
1771.

The year opened with the purchase of Stichford, 7801. I
mortgaged1 it for 4001., paid the remainder, sold the timber for
501., and set§ the land for forty guineas.

Planted the trees at Bennett's-hill, which, being carried
upon my shoulder, and planted by my hand, I have a thousand
times viewed them with the delight of adopted children.
Treated my dear wife and offspring with a visit to Aston as
usual. From thence my son, daughter, and I, went to Nottingham races-she upon my brother's mare. We returned
through Shipley, Derby, and Langley; overstaid our time, and
gave umbrage.
1772.

Purchased Hollymore, seven miles from Birmingham, seventyfour acres, for 850o.
It was already under mortgage for 8oo.,
which remained, and I paid the 501. I set out early one
SJane Ward, sister to our author's mother.
+ Another sister of his mother's.
+ Hutton afterwards wrote "The Battle of Bosworth Field, with Life of
Richard the Third," which will be further noticed later on in this volume.
§ "Set the land" is a common expression in the Midlands instead of let
the land, or house.

186

Life of William Huthon.

'marked

morning, went over the grounds,
and valued 6oo
trees, and returned home to breakfast, without tasting anything. I sold the trees for 2201. The Commons were inclosing.
I had an allotment of eight acres, worth too.
Let the farm

for fifty guineas, lost about half the rent, and then sold the
place for nine hundred.
I once resolved not to buy land without paying for it;
which would have prevented me from running into debt; but
the bent of mind was too strong for restraint. Every opening
caused a longing. I could not pass a bargain.
By an amendment of the Lamp Act, my houses must come
down. It happened that the old house where I now reside,
was upon sale. I durst not let the opportunity slip, but considered it a tool by which I must carry on trade. I purchased
it for eight hundred and thirty-five guineas. It was then under

a mortgage for 4001.

I was obliged to pay the residue; and,

al the premises would open to New Street were my two houses
removed, I now wished them down.* Thus purchase after
purchase caused me to contract debts wholesale.
I was now chosen a Commissioner of the Court of Requests,t and it was prophesied I should make an active one.
There cannot be a more useful service rendered to the
* Speaking of this purchase in his " History of Birmingham," Hutton
says :-" An acquaintance assured me he could have purchased the house
he then occupied for 4001., but refused. In 1770, the same house was sold
for 6ool., and in 1772 I purchased it for 835 guineas, without any alteration
but what time had made for the worse ; and for this enormous price I had
only an old house which I was obliged to take down. Such is the rapid
improvement in value of landed property in a commercial country. Suffer
me to add, though foreign to my subject, that these premises were the property
of an ancient family of the name of Smith, now in decay; were many
centuries ago one of the first inns in Birmingham, and well known by the
name of the Garland House, but within memory, Potter's Coffee
House. Under one part was a room, about forty-five feet long and fifteen
wide, used for the town prison. In sinking a cellar we found a large
quantity of tobacco-pipes of a singular construction, with some very antique
earthenware, but no coin; also loads of broken bottles, which refutes the
complaint of our pulpits against modern degeneracy, and indicates the
vociferous acts of getting drunk and breaking glass were well understood by
our ancestors. In penetrating a bed of sand, upon which had stood a
workshop, about two feet below the surface, we came to a tumulus, six feet
long, three wide, and five deep, built very neat with tiles laid flat, but no
cement. The contents were mouldered wood and pieces of human bone."
t Of the Court of Requests Hutton wrote and published an interesting
account in 1787, which will be noticed under that year.

Life

of Wilham Hutton.

I87

public, than that of doing justice between man and man, giving
every one his own in the mildest way, and composing differences. If a judge can keep clear of prejudice, he will
never decide wrong, except misinformed. If he happens to
relish the employment, it will be much in his favour and the
public's, because, being master of the case, he will execute it
with propriety. Should he prove of a beneficent cast, he will
never throw oil into the fire, but endeavour to extinguish that
which sets fire to two parties.
This [the Court of Requests] soon became my favourite
amusement. I closely attended and soon took the lead.
Responsibility must follow. Standing in the front excited
caution. I watched every party that fraud might not creep in.
The Court engrossed nearly two days in a week of my time
[including the trouble it gave me at my own house], and
for this I never received the least emolument.
I attended the Court nineteen years. During this time
more than ioo,ooo causes passed through my hands !a number
beyond that of any other man. I have had 250 in one day.
Though I endeavoured after rigkt, it canot be supposed they
were all without error.
I never had the least quarrel with a Commissioner or a
suitor, which proves my government was mild.
1773.
As far as I have proceeded in my history, it will be perceived that my disposition was for active life. Pride and the
idea of being useful were the urging motives.
I was now chosen a Commissioner of the Lamp [and Street]
Act. This also I relished, attended, and considered a large
field for reform. The whole inhabitants, I found, had for ages
been encroachers upon public property. This gave a fine
opening to reduce things to order. My plan was to execute
the Act with firmness and mildness. I would oblige all to
conform.
But this plan, I found, could not be adopted. There were
clashing interests among the Commissioners. Some would
retain their own encroachments, or serve t eir friends; then
how could they vote down others ? A rih man met with
more favour than a poor one. The blame of some removals
fell upon me, being strenuous, a speaker, and not backed by

i

8

Lfe of William HDutton.

the Board. I lost some friends ; as they did not act in a Lcdy,
nor consistent, I declined attendance.
I had eight acres of waste land in King's Norton [which lay
some miles from Hollymoor farm], to which I added seven
allotments purchased from others, which amounted to fifty
acres [had them all laid together]; built a house and barn;
spent a fortune ; and let it for twenty-nine guineas a year. This
was one of the blemishes in my terrafirma conduct.
1774.
My son had a pony, which he had nursed with more care
than a mother sometimes nurses her child, but not more than
a cat her kitten. Now one year had run round, and he, two
inches nearer a man, chose a horse, to look more like a man;
and that another should nurse him. This proved a family
horse, which carried me to Warwick when summoned upon
the grand jury at the quarter sessions.
The waste lands upon Withall Heath employed much of my
time, and more of my money. I perceived I had missed the
mark in my calculations. Other proprietors had their allotments laid near their farms; had every convenience at hand
to improve them; and, being upon the spot, could watch and
promote that improvement at a small expense. But I had no
land near, no team to assist, or servants to act, but was obliged
to hire all the work, and at a double price.
Every neighbour was my enemy; for "What right had a
tradesman to come among them?" Whatever property was
moveable was stolen. Even the fences I have planted three
times over [were destroyed]. Sowed seeds, and found fourteen
horses eating the crop. No law will support a single man
against a country.
Thus circumstanced, I was obliged to let it for a mere trifle,
which was never paid. I afterwards granted a lease, at the
low rent mentioned in 1773 ; with a determination never to
meddle with waste land.
My son and I went to Nottingham races, having omitted
this delightful visit three years. The pleasure did not consist
so much in the races, as in that of seeing a dear sister, who
tenderly loved 1&
A grand conteTs ed election for the county brought me to
Warwick, October 20th: Sir Charles Holte against Sir John
Mordaunt. The former won the chair.

Life of William Hutton.

189

As I had not seen my estate at Alfrich for seven years, I
took Worcester races in the way; but, as I had no sister there,
the race was a burthen.
1775Some years have glided on with pleasure, some with affliction, some with profit, some with disappointment, but this with
fatigue.
I must now take down the great old house purchased in
1772,* and lay out, I was told,

12001. in

building; and yet

my trade unable to spare a shilling with propriety. All my
neighbours with whom I had lived in friendship, would quarrel
with me for supposed injuries; except a quarrelsome lawyer,
with whom I never contracted a friendship. To rise above a
friend, makes an enemy.
I have already remarked that I purchased [the house] subject
As I knew I should want money, I
to a mortgage of 40oo.
asked the mortgagee to advance 2001. more. "Yes, if you will
add another estate to the security; for, if you take this down,
how do I know whether you will build it up again ?" Struck with
the remark, I resolved to make no farther inquiries, but try my
own strength, and not call in assistance till necessity obliged
me.
Now I had to undergo the hardest bodily labour I ever
experienced. Up at four every morning, I set the people to
work, watched over them, and laboured with them all day, and
frequently charged myself with the meanest and most laborious
parts.
It is amazing what a rapid progress may be made in any
undertaking, when the proprietor conducts the work like a
master, and labours like a servant.
1775," says Hutton in the " History of Birmingham," I took
* "In
down an old house of wood and plaster which had stood two hundred and
eight years, having been erected in 1567, thirty-one years after the dissolution of the abbeys. The foundation of this old house seemed to have been
built chiefly with stones from the priory; perhaps more than twenty waggon-

loads. These appeared in a variety of forms and sizes, highly finished in
the Gothic taste, parts of porticos, arches, windows, ceilings, &c., some
fluted, some cyphered, and otherwise ornamented, yet complete as in the
first day they were left by the chisel. The greatest part of them were
destroyed by the workmen ; some others I used again in the fire-place of
an under kitchen. Perhaps they are the only perfect fragments that remain
of that venerable edifice which once stood, the monument of ancient piety,
the ornament of the town, and the envy of the priest out of place."

9go

Life of William Hutton.

This undertaking was begun April 28, and covered in
October 24. As I was obliged to quit my other house at
Christmas, we resided at Bennett's-hill till Whitsuntide ; when
my family, having visited Aston, returned to the new house.
As I was closely connected with the building during the
whole year, I have no incidents to fill the page but dirty
clothes, broken fingers, bruised arms, broken shins, waste of
materials, drunken workmen, cheating carpenters, and daily
duns.
1776.
The inside of my house yet demanded attention, which took
me half a year to complete, and, being much larger than that
I had left, demanded additional furniture; and this required
another half.
My tenant at Stichford ran in arrear; and when bad, and
getting worse, it is time to part. I took his stock, gave him
his household furniture, and we parted, with a loss, on my side,
of fifty pounds.
Seized with a fond fit of farming, I took the place into my
own hands, and, for two years and a half, paid the utmost
attention to it. I also received as much pleasure from it. But
when business has no profitable returns, it diminishes the
pleasure.
I paid my visits three or four times a week, though distant
four or five miles, always on foot. Arrived there by five in the
morning, and back by breakfast.
I have been in Yardley field, making hay, when the clock
struck nine in the evening, and again the next morning when
striking four. Thus I became a slave in conducting what it
was not in the power of man to conduct as it ought at so great
a distance, and the management consigned to unprincipled
people.
My accounts told me, at the end of the above term, that I
had lost exactly the rent, one hundred guineas. I let the
place, with a resolution to farm no more.
I bought [the manor and estate of] Chadwich, for 4500.,
upon a promise from Meredith, an attorney, of supplying me
with what money I should want. I let it for 300. a year,
kept it one year, when it appeared that I on my part could
not fulfil my bargain, because Meredith had deceived me; nor
the seller his, because his title was d'efective [in some places

Life of William Hutton.

'9I

he had charged nearly twice as much land as there really was].
We therefore mutually agreed to dissolve the contract. He was
pleased because I had improved the estate, and my family
rejoiced because it prevented me running into debt; but I
regretted the loss of a bargain.
I777.
Although I could not borrow money, but had conducted the
building and the farm by my own resources, yet I had so far
impoverished the trade, that nothing but time could recover
it from a consumption.
A person approached me, "Sir, I hear you sometimes
purchase land. There is a small bit at Makeney,* in Derbyshire, the joint property of three cousins, of whom I am one.
I never saw it, nor can I give any account of it, only I have
heard it is three acres ; give me what you please for my share.
It has been some ages in my family. My father is lately dead,
and the deeds are in the hands of my mother."
" If you can make me a freehold title, I will give you seven
guineas." We agreed. [I drew the article, and gave one as
earnest.] He procured the deeds ; I made the conveyance for
a blind purchase [for I knew no more of the place than himself].
Not having seen my sister three years, I took Makeney in
nmy way to Nottingham races; saw the place [of which I had
purchased a third, and] which had been three acres; but the
[proprietors having paid no attention to it, and the tenant
having bought the adjoining land] the tenant, for want of
watching, had filched one half. I could only accuse him of the
fraud, but not recover it without a Chancery suit. I received
my share of the rent, twenty-seven shillings, kept it [the place]
twenty-one years; then sold it, May 1, 1797, to the tenant
for seventy guineas.
1778.
The man who possesses any branch of useful knowledge
may have customers enough to partake of that knowledge,
provided he distributes it gratis. A mercer in Birmingham,
who had purchased the stock of a shopkeeper in Dudley, that
followed the various trades of bookseller, draper, haberdasher,
Makeney is a hamlet in the parish of Duffield, and adjoins Milford,
where are situated the extensive cotton-mills of Messrs. Strutt.

192

Life of William Hutton.

and hosier, requested me to go over and value the stock. I
consented, but did not in return receive even a thank.
[One of my services met with a better return. A decent
country woman came one market-day, and begged to speak
with me. She told me, with an air of secrecy, that her husband
behaved unkindly to her, and sought the company of other
women; and that, knowing me to be a wise man, I could tell
what would cure him.
The case was so common, I thought I might prescribe for
it without losing my reputation as a conjuror. "The remedy
is simple," said I. " Always treatyour husband with a smile."
The woman thanked me, dropped a curtsey, and went away.
A few months after, she came again, bringing a couple of fine
fowls. She told me, with great satisfaction, that I had cured
her husband; and she begged my acceptance of the fowls in
return. I was pleased with the success of my prescription, but
refused the fee.]
It was Saturday, my son was gone to Nottingham races. I
wished to follow, procured a horse, and set off. A soft wart
had, for many years, been growing upon the left corner of my
right eye, close to the verge. I had tried various remedies, but
in vain. It was alarming. At length I determined to try that
dangerous remedy aquafortis. Meeting a friend at Shenston,
" What is the matter with your eye ?" " It is a painful wart,
which has been growing many years." "There is no wart t"
Upon examination, it had tumbled out unknown to me, and
left an empty socket that would have admitted a large pea.
The cure was effected.
1779.

My valuable friend William Ryland remarked to me that
"there were two kind of evils which a man should never
grieve at : those which he caznnot avoid and those which he
can." There is as much philosophy in the remark as ought to
make a man contented under affliction; for if the evils are
unavoidable he cannot find a remedy in fretting, but a contrary
tendency; and if they arise from himself, the fault and the
remedy are his own.
SWe now enter another year of misfortunes. The carpenter,
while erecting my house, would never favour me with his
account, but drew money occasionally, and managed matters
in that dexterous style that it was impossible to keep a check

Life of William Hutton.

I93

against him. The man who means fairly will never hide his
accounts. Thinking I had disbursed enough, I withheld payment, When his bill was delivered in, I considered myself
overcharged. We agreed to leave it to reference. The referees
appeared warm in his favour, for, being of a trade, they might,
as lawyers, serve each other. I was awarded to pay, without
being consulted, 2001. in one month. I' remonstrated, and
proted where they had charged, in many instances, fifteen
per cent. more than was agreed on. All was in vain, I was
obliged to submit.
I had erected a house at Mill-pool Hill. The brick-maker
who supplied me, and his man, quarrelling, the man informed
me "that he had, in every load, sent a deficient number of
bricks by order of his master." "Will you prove this, when
you come face to face?" "I will." When the master came
for payment, I remonstrated in gentle terms; was ignorant
myself; wished to pay what was right; and requested him to
wait till I could bring the man. He made no reply, but
instantly served me with a writ; and, as I wished to avoid a
suit, I paid his demand and expense.
Nind, the paper-maker, sent me an invoice of 35 bundles of
demy [paper], value thirty pounds, which he had sent off
I
numbered and directed for me by Ashmore's waggon.
frequently, during the space of six weeks, inquired of the
carrier if the goods were come, for they were wanted. The
answer was always " No." At the end of that time, the bookkeeper told me " I had received them." I was alarmed.
Upon farther inquiry, neither the carrier, bookkeeper, nor
porters knew where they were delivered; nay, the porters
declared it. The carrier, to avoid the expense, took his two
porters to a Master in Chancery, who then swore they delivered
them to me on the I5th of April. I saw the evil that
hung over me. I was not, in a court of law, allowed to prove
a negative, for all my people could prove they never came to
me; and a Chancery suit might cost me 3001/. I proposed
the maker, carrier, and I should equally share the loss. This
the carrier alone refused. The maker brought his action for
the money. I told the attorney who served me with the
writ to desist, for I would pay the money. He seemed to consent, but, like a true lawyer, proceeded; and, to my surprise,
served me with a second process, when I paid the debt
and about ten pounds the cost. We could all of us easily
0

I94

Life of William Huiton.

'bring

no
guess where the paper was delivered, but could
proof.
In addition to these weighty evils my customers failed in my
debt. " Almost every week one fell.
This year, too, was the beginning of the worst of my afflictions-the indisposition of my dear wife, from which she never
returned into health; but underwent a gradual increase of
disorder for seventeen years, till nature sunk under the
weight.
One of my tenants broke, by which I lost many hundred
pounds.
My daughter was taken ill of a nervous complaint, and
struggled under great debility many years.
I had, a few years before, agreed with a bricklayer and
carpenter, jointly, to erect a barn at Withall-heath for 70
pounds. When finished, I complained that they had pinched
a little in every of the dimensions. They did not deny the fact;
but, to cover the defect, the carpenter said, " they would each
return four shillings." This the bricklayer would not agree to;
so the mover paid his four, but no receipt passed. At this
distant period of five years, the carpenter demanded a guinea,
which he said was left unpaid, the other being dead. I treated
it as a joke. However, he put me into the hands of Freeman, a
notorious lawyer; deemed nearly equal to putting into the
hands of Satan. I showed a clear account, which seemed to
satisfy Freeman; but the carpenter knew I could produce no
receipt ; and, rather than dispute with a poor rogue, I paid the
money. I must do Freeman the justice to say, he behaved
like a gentleman.
In eating a salad, a small stone wounded a tooth. Two
days after, being at the play, a lady presented me with an
orange. The moment the juice touched the wounded tooth, it
cut me to the heart, the nerve being affected by the acidity.
A swelling commenced in the gums. My teeth loosened, and
some came out. An abscess formed in the throat, and a fever
ensued. A surgeon was called in, then a physician. At
length I broke out into boils. My wife and daughter were at
Aston. My son attended me with the most filial care.
At a meeting of creditors upon one of my insolvent
customers, a person said, " I'll sell you an estate." " No, I
have no money." "It will not take much; I have a mortgage
upon it for 6oo., which shall lie as long as you please at four

Life of William Hu o.

195

and a half, for I shall not want it." I examined the estate;
bought it for 6531.; paid the fifty-three, and continued the
mortgage. Having linked me fast, he told me, six months
after, you must give me five per cent., for I can make that of
my money; or pay it in." I urged the cruelty of the measure,
but in vain. When the second six months were elapsed,
" You must pay that money in ; I want it." Unhappy is he
who lies at the mercy of ungenerous men. He afterwards
boasted in company how cleverly he had bit me. Soie have
supposed a fatality attends unjustifiable actions. He who
exhibits one, has more in reserve. This man's fortune, by
some means unknown to me, dwindled away. Riding through
Bromsgrove, June 19, 1798, I saw him in old age, and in rags.
Several attorneys were applied to for the money. At length
one consented. Upon inquiry, he told me the estate would not
bear 6oo0., and that I must add another estate to secure the
mortgagee. This I consented to; for, like Sterne's starling,
" I was caught in a cage, and could not get out." Now "the
title to the added estate was defective." "Will you advance
40oo., if I pay the other two ?" " Yes," which was done; and
he, like an honest lawyer, charged above three times as much
for transferring the mortgage as the conveyance cost.
Thus I have gone through a year, replete with the largest
number of calamities, though not the greatest, that ever
occurred to me. I had lost so much money, and paid so
much away, that I had bled the trade into a consumption. I
was determined to purchase no more land, but keep all the
money I could in business, and attend to it in the best manner
I was able. I had been draining it thirteen years, and had
realized clear of all expenses [
hundred a year. I
kept myself poor to raise an estate for my family of the most
expensive and unproductive kind.

*]

1780.
I was distressed in the midst of plenty. My trade, like a
man lamed, required time to recover; and I, like an attentive
surgeon, applied the best remedies in my power. It will be
seen that my efforts were successful, for in the ensuing ten
years I saved more than ten thousand pounds.
During the last unfortunate year I had kept close at home,
but now with my son, I visited my sister and the races.
* This blank he left for filling in, but did not do so.
02

S96

Life of William Hutton.

We took Bratby* in our way to merely see where the celebrated
and favourite Lord Chesterfield was born and resided, whose
genius will be had in repute when calumny shall cease.
We were treated with civility, told many anecdotes, shown
his sitting and sleeping rooms, his library, &c. The horse,
too, which he usually rode, was kept as an heir-loom in the
park, to graze his last in peace.
The first nine months of this year were employed in writing
the His ry of Birmingham.t Fearing my ability, I wrote with
dread. Rollason, the printer, was pleased with it, showed it to
Dr. Withering, who pronounced it the "best topographical
history he had ever seen." I had for it seventy-five copies.
The profit, forty pounds or more. To venture into the world
as an author, without having had a previous education, was a
daring attempt. Setting my knowledge against that of the
world; the balance uneven. This was afterwards considered
the best book I ever wrote. I considered it in a much less
favourable light.
Pleased as a parent with this history, as my first literary
offspring, I may be said, while in manuscript, to have had the
whole by, heart. Had a line been quoted, I could have followed
it up to the end of the chapter. Frequently, while awake in
the night, I have repeated it in silence for two or three hours
together, without adding or missing a word. Perhaps the critic
will say, " You were asleep and dreamed it." This corresponds,
however, with an expression in the preface to this book, that I
wrote the history of my life with correctness of fact and of date
from unpremeditated memory.
* Bretby Castle, or House, the seat of the Right Hon. the Earl of
Chesterfield, lies about ten miles south of Derby, and is a seat in every way
worthy so distinguished a family. The Lord Chesterfield here alluded to
by Hutton, was Philip Dormer Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield, and
Baron Stanhope of Shelford (eldest son of the third earl, by his wife,
Elizabeth, daughter and coheiress of the Marquis of Halifax), who was
born in 1694, and married in I733, Melosina de Schulenburg, Countess
Waldegrave and Baroness Aldborough, by whom he had no issue. He
is best known as the writer of "Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son" on
principles of politeness; the son to whom they were addressed being his
natural son, about whose parentage much scandal was talked. Lord
Chesterfield died in 1773, and was succeeded by a distant member of the
'family of Stanhope.
t Some particulars of this work-" The History of Birmingham"-will be
found in the latter part of this volume.

Lift of William Hutton.

I97

1781.

I supped, January 31st, with a large company at the Bull
and Gate. Rollason, my printer, was there; spoke highly
of the History, and " made no doubt but those printed upon
large paper would, in twenty years, sell for a guinea."
This year commenced with a large duty upon paper; consequently a rise. Having no engagements upon my hands but
business and the Court, I made almost daily visits to[a farm I
had purchased near Sutton] Coldfield; a walk that delighted
me. These walks I always took very early [in the morning] or
late in the evening, that more necessary pursuits might not be
impeded. I also superintended the correcting, enlarging, and
printing the History [of Birmingham]. Attended Nottingham
races as usual.
1782.

March 22nd, the History of Birmingham was published.*
My sister, brother, his son, and John Perkins paid us a visit,
which my son and I returned at the race.
A man may live half a century, and not be acquainted with
his own character. I did not know I was an antiquary till the
world informed me from reading the History. But when told,
I could perceive it myself. The Antiquarian Society at Edinburgh chose me a member; sent me a diploma to splice to my
name, F.A.S.S. Fellow of the Antiquarian Society of Scotland.
During this summer I made many visits to places of antiquity
within fifteen miles of home; some of which were introduced
into the second edition [of the History of Birmingham, published
the ensuing year],t 1783.
1783.

The man in health ought not to be difficult in his choice of
eating. If he wishes to relish his food, let him wait till he is
* The title of this first edition was
Birmingham to the end of the year 1780.
Printed by and for Pearson and Rollason;
noster-row; B. White, Fleet-street; J.

as follows :-" An History of
By W. Huttol. Birmingham :
and sold by R. Baldwin, PaterRobson, New Bond-street; S.

It
Hayes, Oxford-street; and J. and J. Fletcher, Oxford. MDCCLXXXI."
was in one volume, 8vo,of 280 pages, with several plates and a map.
SThis work has passed through several editions, and has been the

groundwork of every history of the place.

198

Life of William Huaton.

hungry. February 8 I went to Wall, to examine the junction
of the Watling-street, and the Icknield-street.
I tasted
nothing till noon. My landlord brought a homely dish upon
the table, the gleanings of the cupboard, remnants of beef,
pork, mutton, and potatoes, fried together. I relished this
blended meal as much as the Lord Mayor's feast.
On the I6th I went to Dudley after dinner, and returned to
tea, near twenty miles, and found that tea acceptable.
Rotten tradesmen are the bane of the industrious. One
labours that the other may live in luxury. A person failed one
hundred guineas in my debt. After waiting six years, a final
dividend of four guineas was squeezed out of the assignee.
Another failed for tro
o;
I received thirteen shillings in the
pound. He afterwards had a fortune left him, when he did
what is uncommon, and what the law could not oblige him to
,do, paid twenty shillings, which proves that we are not all
rogues. The races this year were not neglected.
My family was thrown into the utmost distress; I was
seized with an inflammation in the bowels. On Sunday
[evening], Dec. 21, I began with pains, but was ignorant of the
complaint. On Monday I took jalap: still worse. On Tuesday,
I sent for our conceited apothecary, who was as unacquainted
with the disorder as myself. On Wednesday Dr. Ash was
called in, and pronounced it an inflammation [in the bowels].
He also informed my friends there was no hope [that my
blood was as thick as a jelly, and as yellow as a guinea; but
added, "We must not lose him if we can help it, for he is a
useful man"]. He saw the case desperate, and acted a bold part:
bled me three times the first day, again the next, repeating it
to six times : the blood white as corruption. I underwent eight
physical operations in one day. Still worse. Thursday and
Friday the warm bath. Death was hourly expected. Had not
a wink of sleep for three days and nights. A small symptom
on Saturday, at midnight, took place in my favour. The
doctor on Sunday at noon, holding the curtain in his hand,
said, "You are as safe as a bug in a rug."
I was so reduced that the information gave me no pleasure;
nor would it have made the least impression, had he told me I
should depart the next hour. Life was nearly extinguished.
No news, however important, could have affected me.
This taught me a lesson I could not have believed. The
nearer the grave, the less the terror. Health is the season to

Life of William Hutton.

I99

dread death, not sickness. The world had lost every charm,
and futurity every fear.
My dear wife, though ill herself, sat up with me three nights
out of four.
1784.

Reduced as I was to the last stage of existence, and even
to the last inch of that stage, I continued in a debilitated state.
The doctor told me " I should never be the man I was." But
this proved the only point in which this worthy man was mistaken, who had exerted all his powers to save my life; a life
owing entirely to him, for perhaps no other man could have
saved it. What errors, therefore, I shall commit in future, let
them, in return, be charged to him.
My property was about twelve thousand pounds.
My son had, for some time, kept two horses, chiefly to graze
in the field, for they were seldom out. The disorder with
which my dear love was afflicted was gaining ground. Riding
was recommended. Our horses were incapable of carrying
double. We frequently engaged a person to take her an hour's
ride for a shilling, which was of service.
April 27, her mother died at the age of eighty-seven, who was,
like herself, one of the best of women.
[Our visits to Aston were .chiefly on her account.
I was subpoenaed, Dec. i, as a witness upon a trial, which
was to come on in London the next day. I was obliged to set
out immediately, and I stayed thirteen days.]
I785.

Deeming the rides for my dear afflicted wife too short, I
agreed with a person to hire me a double horse, I finding a man
at two shillinfgs a time, to ride four or five miles twice or thrice,
a week. I frequently attended this service. Some benefit, we
Sthought, was the result.
We now also extended our excursions and visited Buxton;*
were much pleased with that gay place. Here we met with a
* Buxton was then, as now, a very fashionable and much frequented
resort for invalids and for lovers of beautiful scenery, but its accommodations
were of a meagre description compared with what they were a few years
later. At the time of Hutton's visit the Crescent was just built, and the
town beginning to assume a more imposing appearance generally. At the

200

Life of William Huton.

variety of characters; and a man may draw pleasure or profit
from all.
I took a ramble for one whole day, in which I visited the
Lover's Leap,* a romantic cliff; Che Tor,f more romantic, a perpendicular rock said to be 365 feet high, which I doubt.
Climbed a master mountain, in the centre of many whose tops
appeared level with each other, which had a most beautiful
Mounted the Castle-hill at
They were all bare.
effect.
Castleton ; too steep for any attack.
Examined the ruins,
present day Buxton is one of the most healthy, most beautiful, and certainly
best conducted of inland watering-places, and with the great facilities which
it possesses of railway communication, is visited by thousands in place of
tens, as in Hutton's day.

* "Lover's Leap" is about a mile from Buxton, on the Bakewell road,
and is one of the cliffs in Sherbrook Dale. The sides of this dell are perpendicular rocks of great height which close it in and form one of the most
lovely of rocky gorges. It is a favourite spot for the visitors to Buxton, and
is near enough to the town for a pleasant stroll to be taken to its beauties.
t "Chee Tor," in Chee Dale, about five miles from Buxton, is one of
the most remarkable rocks in the county. It is of immense height, and
rises perpendicularly from the river Wye, which washes its base. Its front
presents a noble appearance, and is " as straight as if cleft with care by the
hand of man." It rises to the height of about three hundred feet from the
bed of the river.
$ Castleton, with its famous cavern, and its castle, rendered immortal by
Sir Walter Scott's "Peveril of the Peak," where the scene is laid, and with
its Mam Tor, its Winnats, its mines, and its many other attractions, is one
of the places visited by every tourist in the Peak. The castle, the keep,
and other remains of which are still standing, is of Norman foundation (not
Roman, as Hutton supposed it to be) and was the stronghold of the
Peverels. It stands on the extreme verge of a narrow ridge of rock, over
the entrance to the cavern, which yawns beneath it. It presents many
highly interesting architectural features. The Cavern-Peak Cavern, Peak
Hole, or Castleton Cavern, or another not very euphonious name by
which it has been called-is one of the finest and most extensive caverns in
this country. It has always been counted as one of the wonders of the
Peak, and is included by Hobbes and by Cotton in their curious old poems
under that title. The cavern extends 2250 feet into the mountain, and is
feet
about 600oo below its summit. The entrance is by a gigantic natural
archway in the face of the rock, and is 42 feet in height, 120 feet in width,
and 300 feet in depth. It is used as a ropewalk, in which several men and
boys are employed. Proceeding about thirty yards, the first compartment
is crossed, the roof gradually becoming lower, and the cavern narrower, till
a confined passage is reached, at which all trace of daylight is lost. After
traversing this aperture about twenty yards, the first great interior cavity or
chamber is reached, and five other capacious openings follow. Here the
guides light the candles, and the remainder of the journey is accomplished
with their assistance. For nearly thirty yards the visitor has to walk in a

Life of William Huttoan.

201

which seem to be Roman. The town below, and the adjacent
views, were most charming. Penetrated to the extremity of
Peak Hole, under the Castle-hill, more tremendous than pleasant.
Ascended Mam Tor,* or the Shivering Mountain, said continually to moulder, but not diminish, which is totally untrue,
as may be seen by every observer. The mountain has diminished
one-third in size, and a considerable hill has been raised from
the detached parts. It kept mouldering all the time I was
there, which I apprehend is chiefly owing to wet and thaw.
This cannot amount in the least to a wonder, for every mountain will do the same which has a perpendicular side, composed
of loose skerry-stones [and a light soil]. Upon the summit is
an extensive camp, not very secure [on one side].
I returned
by Elden Hole,t a most terrific spectacle, a chasm lined with
rock, thirty yards long and five wide, upon the declivity of a
stooping posture to a chamber called the "Bell House," and thence he
gains the margin of a subterranean lake, about fourteen feet across. Here
a boat used to be put into requisition, until the present way was cut in the
rock for the further exploration of the cavern. The rock in one part
approaches to within a foot and a half of the water, and when the stream is
swollen with a fall of rain in the uplands, even this space is entirely filled by
the flood, and thus all communication between the two halls is cut off,
occasionally much to the discomfiture of the visitor. The water is not
usually more than three feet in depth. A chamber 210 feet broad, 220
long, and about 120 high, is next entered. Then follows an expansion of
the stream termed the second water, and shortly we reach " Roger Rain's
House," so termed from the drops of water continually trickling from the
roof. The "Chancel," a rugged chamber, is next gained, and, through a
passage, the "Devil's Cellar." We now descend a passage 150 feet in
length to the "Half-way House," and continuing our walk, enter a cavity
formerly termed "Great Tom of Lincoln," from its bell-like shape, but now
the "Victoria Dome," after the visit of Her Majesty in 1842. The cavern
here diminishes in size until all passage is closed up, and the stream loses
itself in the earth.
* "Mam Tor," or the "Shivering Mountain," is a hill composed of a
bed of calcareous slate or shale, lying immediately upon the limestone, and
varying in thickness from 3 to 6oo feet. The compact strata are separated
by coarse layers, which readily disintegrate, and these form the exposed
face of the hill, and through their constantly falling or "slithering," as it is
called, give it its common name of the shivering mountain. The view from
the summit is remarkably fine and extensive, and takes in the beautiful
vale of Edale. Remains of an encampment are still traceable on the top.
" "Eldon Hole," between Castleton and Peak Forest, is an extraordinary and very deep vertical cavern or fissure in the limestone. Its
depth has never been accurately ascertained, and it is said that passages,
at a considerable depth below the surface, run from it in various direc.

202

Life of William Hutton.

hill on Eldon Common, guarded by a wall. I threw down
many stones, which produced five or six sounds in their descent,
owing to the various bends in the passage, which is not perpendicular. I got among the mines and the miners; made inquiries, and paid money [for making them]. They seemed a
tarnished, ragged, and happy people. We should think the
Peak inhabited by a race of beggars. I could not ask a question, or even inquire my road, without "Please, sir, to give me
I had a delightful walk [in my return] over Peak
something."
Forest,* but was affected at a village called Dam [in the Forest]
at the sight of a number of people carrying to his house a young
man just killed in a mine. Arriving at Buxton in the evening,
I was much indisposed with liquors not accustomed to.
My son and I visited Nottingham races, attended by a
servant. Of all the pleasurable journeys I ever took this was the
most delightful. For though I knew nothing of the horses, the
winners, or the company, nor was interested in events, yet both
body and mind was at ease, every thing new and pleasant; but
above all, I was accommodated by a dear sister, who loved me.
This enjoyment, since I'70, was my eleventh time, but, unknown to me, was the last for ever [for now my sister and I
The horses my son and I rode were
were to part for ever].
ours, the servant's was hired, but we liked him so well that we
purchased him as a double horse to carry my dear love.
She remarked to me, in one of our rides, "That she was not
likely, from the growing state of her complaint, to continue long;
and pointed out a lady who would suit me for her successor." I
tions. Cotton, nearly two hundred years ago, endeavoured to ascertain its
depth, but from some mistake, failed.
"But I myself, with half the Peak surrounded,
Eight hundred, four score, and four yards have sounded,
And though of these four score return'd back wet,
The plummet drew, and found no bottom yet;
Though when I went to make a new assay, I could not get the lead down half the way."
Mr. Lloyd, two or three years before the time of Hutton's visit,
descended, and in his published account states that he found a bottom at
sixty-two yards' depth. It has since then been sounded at different times,
but without any satisfactory result.
" Peak Forest is a small village, which having until latterly enjoyed
extra-parochial and other liberties, became a.
place for runaway marriages,
and was known far and wide as the Gretna Green of Derbyshire.

Life of William Hutton.

203

was affected, and only replied, "I could not entertain the idea,
but would wait till I found her equal." If her dear shade should
hover over fne, and observe my actions, it will never see another
in those arms which have enfolded her. I have now, July 19,
1798, lost her two years and a half, but could never think of
offering that violence to her memory or my own feelings.
Can a cure be found for the man who has lost half himself ?
I had, in [the preceding] December, been subpoenaed to
London upon a trial. This gave me an opportunity of seeing
many curiosities, which I this year wrote from memory, and
printed under the title of The j/ourney to London, my second
publication, price two shillings and sixpence.*
I786
Was ushered in with a melancholy event, the loss of my
dear sister,t February 26th; a woman of an extraordinary
character, and as amiable as extraordinary. [Her age was sixtyseven.]
My tenant at Hollymoor not paying his rent, I went over to
receive it; but, to my astonishment, found the doors open, the
furniture gone, the people fled, and not a hoof in the grounds.
He owed me one hundred and fifty-eight pounds, and had left
the farm in that despicable state, that I could not let it except
at a reduced rent. I lost the whole [of what he owed me].
My brother and I were subpoenaed as evidences upon a
trial at Warwick. The attorney promised to reimburse the
expense, the contenders being poor. I took my dear love for
a ride in a chaise. [My brother and myself went in the chaise.]
We won the cause, but I was obliged to pay all the expense,
and never received a shilling. So much for the promise of a
lawyer.
* This was a small volume of I2mo size, full of curious observations
upon men and things in London, and interspersed with trite and quaint
reflections. It will be noticed in a later part of this volume. It was entitled " A Journey to London, comprising a descriptiofi of the most
interesting objects of curiosity to a visitor of the Metropolis. By W.
Hutton, F.A. S. S."
t This was his sister Catherine, to whom he was much attached, and of
whom a memoir is given in another part of this volume. She was born in
1711, married in 1743 to William Perkins, of Swithland, separated from
him shortly afterwards, and removed to Nottingham, where she resided to
the day-of her death.

204

Life of William Hlutton.

I was again ordered to Worcester assizes to prove a person's
handwriting. I told the attorney I could do him no service,
for I had never seen the person write. This would not serve;
I then told him I had been twice bit by two of his brethren,
and would not stir unpaid. This he complied with. I went,
but was not called.
This year we made a second visit to Buxton. The country
romantic and delightful, the company more agreeable than the
weather.
The journey was attended with a small benefit to her I loved.
In all our excursions, it was my happy province to take them
and attend their return.
1787.

Being master of the rules in the Court of Requests, and
wishing to instruct others, I wrote a full history of the process
in octavo, six shillings, with a variety of examples, some interesting. This was my third publication.*
-As the health of my dear wife declined, the air of Birmingham became more irksome; and as my house at Bennett's-hill
was not so commodious for a constant residence as we wished,
an addition was requisite. I formed a plan, which, perhaps,
might cost eighty pounds ; then altered the plan a first, second,
and third time; till, when put in execution, it cost more than
Mortar is rather apt to corrode the pocket.
700/.
I wished to try exercise for my dear love upon a larger
scale. In July, she, my daughter, and I, went in a chaise to
Aberystwith, in hopes that change of scene, amusement,
exercise, and sea-air, would have a desirable effect. The
journey was a pleasure to all. Was performed in three days.
Here I left them, and returned by myself, as I did not choose
so long an absence from business.
There was but one carriage between Aberystwith and Welshpool, the whole breadth of Wales, and that carriage was
twenty miles off. I could not, without waiting, be accommodated [at Aberystwith]. To hire a horse, or rather two,
would be sixpence a mile, besides other expenses. I therefore
resolved to walk to Shrewsbury, with my great coat in my hand,
and take the stage from thence. This journey took me two days
* " Courts of Requests, particularly that of Birmingham, described. By
William Hutton, F.A.S.S."

Life of William Hutton.

205

and a half. The weather was extremely hot, the roads dusty,
which overcame me to that degree that I was indisposed for a
month, though able to attend to my concerns.
A Welsh tour is surprisingly grand. Nature is seen in the
extreme. The lofty, rough, and barren mountains opposite to
the beautiful and fertile valleys, is a charming contrast. There
appears no difference between the gentry of Wales and those
of England, but much in the lower class. These I found good
natured and inoffensive. It is said that they are desperate
in anger, but is there any necessity to anger them ? I found
among them much civiler treatment than in polished London.
No pride but that of family, and that wearing out.
In my first day's march from Aberystwith to Malwyd, 32
miles, weary and heated, I stepped into a miserable hut, consisting of one black room; the floor native earth, and the sole
lightwas admitted by the door. I sat down with all the freedom
of an owner, gave a smile and a nod to the master, for to speak
was useless. He looked pleasant, retreated, and without a
word, brought me a mess of buttermilk. This I could have
relished, but was too much heated. I afterwards, when I could
be understood, mentioned this union of poverty and hospitality. The reply was, "That man is not so poor as you
imagine." In my second day's journey, from Malwyd to
Welshpool, a man darted out of a house, as if watching for
me, with a "How far are you going ?" "To Canoffice." "So
am I." I stopped to observe a mill which I thought curious.
He attended as close as my shirt; my coat was in my hand;
he appeared rather shabby, not very active, but very inquisitive, without a wish to appear so. Had travelled, been on
board a ship, was a tailor, and resided at Llanover, whither he
was going.
"You carry your coat upside down; you will lose the gold."
"There's none to lose." "If there is none in these pockets,
there is in others." We stopped at Canoffice, and, as I could
make but a poor reckoning, I treated him.
The weather being hot, we agreed to repose in the shade.
"Are your buckles silver ?" "Yes."
We were reclined upon
a bank, I facing him, unbuttoned, with my eyes closed, all in
silence, and abstracted from the world. Opening my eyes, I
saw, with astonishment, a large open clasp-knife in his hand.
"What do you do with that knife ?" with some emotion.
"Cut bread and cheese." "Why, you have none to cut." We

206

Life of William Hutton.

marched on; I treated him coldly. He saw my suspicion. I
was under no fear while my eyes were open, for I could overcome two such, though no fighter. Determined to quit my
companion, I outwalked him, which seemed a disappointment.
Stopping at Llanvair to bait he hunted me out, entered the
same room where I sat alone, called for drink, and drew his
knife. " Pray why do you draw that knife ?" "I always carry
it to cut bread and cheese." " That must be a mistake, for
you had none to eat either then or now, neither did you use it
for any other purpose." He closed it; was silent. I paid my
shot, walked on to Welshpool, and saw him no more.
Six weeks after, in passing through Llanvair to bring back
my family, I inquired after this man, whose name he told me
was Pugh; that he was poor, but did not bear a base character.
I have only stated facts that another may judge, but, to this
moment, I am at a loss to guess whether my suspicions were
well founded.
To be gratified more with the beauties of Wales we went
and returned by two different routes. We proceeded by Montgomery, a compact little town covered by a mountain. Then
Newtown. Here, they concluding we were not without
English money, refused to take us on except we would run
four horses. Llanidloes-here I first heard the Welsh tongue.
Then we passed the Wilds, where there were none to speak any
tongue. We only saw now and then a hut with half an acre.
The Devil's Bridge, where, happening a flood, the flow of water
was amazihgly grand. A view of Aberystwith from the distant
hills was charming, but it should only be seen at a distance,
for the-streets are miserable.
We returned by Machynlleth, a much pleasanter place. Each
of the above towns, at a transient view, seems to contain about
o200
houses. Malwys is only a village, with a remarkable
yew-tree in the churchyard, consisting of eight large boles.
Llanvair is romantic; has about 5o houses. Then Pool,*
quite an English town, perhaps has 400 [houses]. Powis Castle
is a splendid antique. At Shrewsbury we were treated with
great civility by Major Grant, who took us to the castle, a
place of strength when strength was wanted; showed us the
SWelshpool.

L fe of William Hulon.

207

field where Hotspur fell, and the House of Industry. I gave
a girl sixpence to boat me over the Severn, which she accidentally dropped into the river, where it lies at this moment.
I788.
My tenant at Hollymoor having run away, as before stated,
and left the farm in so ill a plight that I had no choice of
tenants, I was obliged to let it to a third person, little better
than the others. As I could get no rent, I sold the place.
Thus what I thought one of my best bargains, turned out bad.
Instead of getting 8oo00. clear, I did not get 4001.
We determined to change our watering-place, and this year
made a visit to Blackpool [in Lancashire]; found much company,
much pride, much vulgarity, accompanied with much goodnature. I was struck with the place, wrote its history, which
was my fourth publication, price one shilling.* The landlords
met, agreed to take the whole edition, 750 copies, and I agreed
to-sell them at prime cost, sixpence each. Hudson and Bailey
stood joint paymasters. These worthy gentlemen, stationed
at a distance, which often tries a man's honesty, obliged me to
stay four years for the money. Bailey, in the interim, broke.
Hudson would only pay his own share of the nine pounds.
The other I lost.t
We stayed here near three months. My poor wife was
attacked with an alarming fever. In my return I was very
particular in my examination of Manchester. I thought the
town about one third less than Birmingham; the streets worse,
but. the buildings better, and probably the inhabitants richer.
* * A Description of Blackpool, in Lancashire, frequented for Seabathing. By W. Hutton, F. A. S. S." A thin octavo volume, of which
three editions were published.
SThis circumstance is thus alluded to in the preface to the second
edition :-" The first edition has in its history something uncommon. It
shows my own credulity on one side, and a worse trait on the other. Struck
with the place, I became the historian; showed the manuscript to my landlord. He was pleased; summoned his brethren of the spigot, six in
number. They agreed to take the whole edition, and I agreed to charge
only the prime cost. Two of the six became responsible as receivers and
payers, which I considered a partnership in this transaction. I packed up
the whole edition, 720 copies, which came to i81. They cost me 91.,
which price I charged. I made, during the ensuing four years, many
applications for payment. At length one of them (Mr. Hudson), sent me
41. los., which he called kis skare, and I might apply for the remainder to
his partner, who has not yet (1804) had the rectitude to pay me."

208

Life of William Hutton.

We stopped at Buxton, but, being far in October, the company was thin.
The double horse which I had purchased, while grazing in
the field, a few days after our return, was set fast in a wateringpit; and though a strong lumpy horse, the ignorant people, in
getting him out, made shift to break his back, which deprived
us of an animal, exactly suitable, and which we were never able
to replace.
My dear wife was very ill; her physicians obliged her to undergo a severe and dangerous operation, but to little purpose.
This year I published the History of the Hundred Court,*
being a supplement to the Court of Requests, price one shilling:
also, The Battle of Bosworth Field, five shillings. t
1789.
Making bricks without straw, and a history without materials,
are nearly akin.
Having made no preparation, but writing immediately from memory, is as difficult a task.
I purchased another horse at near twice the money, but he
no way answered expectation. Dealing in horses is almost as
precarious as dealing in marriage. There is this difference,
.however. One may sell, but the other must keep. I also took
a regular servant in livery, to attend when an airing was
wanted.
Since my mother Cock's death, our journeys to Aston were
given up; we resolved upon one to Halstead, in Leicestershire
[to visit her brother], which we found agreeable in every respect
but the weather.
1790.

The cruel asthma made slow but certain inroads upon my
* "History of the Hundred Court, being a Supplement to the Court of
Request. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S." Octavo.
t The title of this work was, "The Battle of Bosworth Field, between
Richard the Third, and Henry, Earl of Richmond, August 22, 1485.
Wherein is described the approach of both armies, with plans of the battle,
its consequences, the fall, treatment, and character of Richard. To which
is prefixed, by way of introduction, a history of his life till he assumed the
regal power. By W. Hutton, F.A. S. S.
Birmingham: printed by
Pearson and Rollason, and sold by R. Baldwin, Paternoster Row, London.
MDCCLXXXVIII." The second edition, with additions by J. Nichols, F.S.A.,
was published in 1813, with Hutton's permission, and with the addition of
several plates from Nichols' Leicestershire.

Life of William Hutton.

209

dear love. She was now unable to sit a horse. I resolved to
indulge the best of women with a chariot. But how to accomplish it was to be considered. I had no coach-house, nor
ground to erect one [for I had no land but the garden in which
my house stood]. Any one of my neighbours could have
accommodated me, but would not. There is a darling pleasure
in seeing a man set fast, also a pride in being able to assist, but
will not.
"Madam, your land which joins me is appropriated to no
particular use, I shall be obliged to you for a few yards; fix
upon it what price you please, and I will give it." "No."
I applied to another in the same humiliating style. "Will
you give me fifty pounds for a bit ?" [for the small field that joins
you, about one-third of an acre ?] "I will." It was then refused,
because there was probability of getting more. Before they closed
they obliged me to pay ninety. Thus the necessity of one man
Pride may induce the
becomes a temptation to another.
philosopher and the divine to expatiate upon the dignity and
the excellency of man, but we are made to overreach.
These expenses, with the
The coach-house cost 411/.
carriage, horses, &c., cost about 635 guineas.
179 I.
The canal frenzy in Birmingham was the order of the day;
a scheme that may benefit the next generation and ruin this.
The Worcester canal was broached, which met with great
opposition during two Sessions of Parliament. I was sent as an
evidence; made five journeys; was examined by both Houses,
and honourably paid.*
In one of these I treated my poor wife and daughter. But
we had not been many hours in London before she was almost
deprived of breath. We were alarmed, took apartments in an
* "The Canal Frenzy," as Hutton expresses it, commenced in Birmingham in 1767, when the project of forming a "navigable canal from the
Wolverhampton canal through the coal works to this town" was set on
foot. In June of the same year, Brindley, the famous engineer, having
been applied to, produced plans for carrying the project into execution.
Subscriptions were at once entered into, and in 1768 an Act of Parliament for making the canal from Birmingham to .Wolverhampton was
passed. As usual, and in strict accordance with the precede:.: set on the
occasion of the movement for lighting and improving the to ,n, there was
much opposition to this scheme. This canal being formed. others were
P

210

Life of William Hutton.

airy part, Princes Street, Hanover Square. No better. We then
removed to Hampstead. Our distress was inconceivable. We
expected every hour to lose her. The people of the house
were frightened, and wished us gone. With difficulty we conveyed her into a chaise. The pure air seemed to revive her,
and she was better for the journey.
This year began prosperously, as many before it had done.
Trade was successful. I had for twelve years desisted from
buying land, kept the money in business, so that I had been
able to draw out a thousand pounds to improve my house, and in
furniture, and six hundred for a carriage, &c., without feeling it.
My family loved me; were in harmony. I enjoyed the amusements of the pen, the court, and had no pressure upon the
mind but the depraved state of health of her I loved.
But a calamity awaited me I little suspected: the Riots in
1791, which hurt my fortune, totally destroyed that peace of
mind which can never return, nearly overwhelmed me and my
family, and not only deprived us of every means of restoring
the health of the best of women, but shortened her days.
I shall be concise in my description of this dreadful event,
because I wrote a particular account at the time, in folio, now
in my son's, library to which I refer.*
quickly projected and carried out. The scheme which occupied public
attention this year, 1791, was that of an intended canal from Birmingham
to Worcester, and although a strong opposition was organized, the Act of
Parliament authorizing its formation was passed in June, and was thus
immortalized in rhyme :"Come now begin delving, the Bill is obtain'd,
The contest was hard, but a conquest is gain'd;
Let no time be lost, and to get business done,
Set thousands to work, that work down the fun.
With speed the desirable work to complete,
The hope how alluring, the spirit how great?
By Severn we soon, I've no doubt on my mind,
With old Father Thames shall an intercourse find.
By int'rested motives tho' people are led,
With many the ground who from fancy;
'Twill prejudice stifle, and malice strike dumb,
When the seat of the Arts shall a sea-port become !"
*

This will be found reproduced at the conclusion of the "Brief Narrati ve."

Life of William

utton.

21

1

The general body of Dissenters had long wished a repeal of
the Test and Corporation Acts. An attempt was made for this
purpose in 1788. Committees were formed in many parts of the
kingdom to conduct the business, though the active, but honest,
spirit of Mr. Russell, Birmingham, took the lead. I was one of
the Committee, though passive. It gave umbrage to Government,
Parliament refused their consent, and the matter dropped.
The French Revolution began with that fairness which seemed
to be approved by a considerable part of the English nation,
who joined in commemorating the 14th of July, the anniversary
of that revolution. , A company of about 8o dined at the hotel.
I had nothing to do with it.
A handbill appeared at this juncture which gave offence.
This was charged upon a Dissenting minister in the neighbourhood of Birmingham, but was proved afterwards to have been
privately sent from London, perhaps to inflame.
People
assembled at the front of the hotel as harmless lookers-on,
but being stimulated by higher powers, increased into a mob,
and broke windows. Whoever excited them did not mean
they should proceed to the lengths they did. Probably, if
there was a plan it might not extend farther than breaking the
windows, insulting the company, or injuring Dr. Priestley's
meeting. But when an intoxicated mob of 5000 is raised
by thle smiles of superiors, their employers cannot stop them.
If, in the first instance, the exciters are the masters, the mob
are so in the second.
The windows demolished, the company dispersed, a gentleman said, "To the Meeting."* This was enough. They instantly broke in, tore it to pieces, and burnt it. Then to the
Old, which also was burnt down. The next was theDoctor's
houset furniture, library, philosophical apparatus, &c., which
were all destroyed by the flames.
July
The house of John Ryland, Esq. was burnt.
About ten this morning my sister Taylor came with tears to
tell me my house was condemned. As I had never given
offence to any one, I could not credit it. Captain Archibald,
who resided at the next door, offered, with his recruiting party,
to protect my premises, but the magistrates would not suffer
him. Their design was persuasion.

15.

* "The
Meeting.

Meeting"-this was Dr. Priestley's Chapel, called the New
t Dr. Priestley.
P2

212

Life of William Hulon.

At three they attacked me, and broke the windows. I bought
them off with all the money I had, or could instantly borrow.
They would have drink. " You shall have whatever I can
They collared me and
give you if you will not injure me."
dragged me prisoner to the Fountain, where they revelled
about half an hour, and I was charged with 829 gallons of ale !
In the evening they renewed the attack, and totally destroyed
my house and furniture, with my whole stock.
The house of John Taylor, Esq., at Bordsley, was the next
that went to ashes.
Early on the I6th they destroyed by fire my house and
furniture at Bennet's Hill, with the most diabolical ferocity.
Had I been simply a Dissenter, I probably should have
escaped, or had I only been President of the Court, it might
have been the same, but uniting both sealed my destruction.
harangued them.
While the mob were in the street, Mr.
" If you will destroy Hutton's house I will give you two
guineas, for it was owing to him that I lost a cause in the
Court."
While destroying my property, another said, " O, d-n him,
he made me pay fifteen shillings in the Court." The house of
George Humphreys, Esq., was next destroyed. Then those of
William Russell, Esq., Thomas Hawkes, and then Moseley
Hall, the property of John Taylor, Esq., inhabited by Lady
Carhampton, whom they ordered and assisted to remove.
Then the Rev. John Hobson's. Afterwards those of William
Piddock, John Harwood, Kingswood Meeting House, the
Parsonage House, then another Meeting House at Worstock,
exclusive of the attacks upon Mr. Jukes's, Mr. Coales's, Dr.
Withering's, Mr. Male's, &c.
I was now, with my family, wandering about the country,
because nobody durst take us in for fear of destruction to
themselves. We attempted upon our return to take a house,
but none would admit us. At length Mr. Richards, the master
of Vauxhall, consented to board us, at the hazard of his
property. And here, for about eighteen weeks, we experienced the utmost civility.
The cruel treatment I met with totally altered my sentiments
of man.
I had considered him as designed to assist and
comfort his species, to reduce the foul humours of his nature,
and, though he could not reach perfection, to come as near it
as possible. I further considered that as I had spent nineteen

Life of William Hutton.

213

years in the service of the public as a director of the Court,
and even two days a week without the least emolument, composed thousands of quarrels without any expense to the parties,
and, as no fault had been exhibited against me, I had, at least
in a small degree, fulfilled my duty to man. If destruction,
then, was to be the return, it followed that the design of the
human species, like the brute creation, was to destroy each
other.
I was further confirmed in this sentiment when I considered
the willingness of the destroyer. The lower class rejoiced
in doing the diabolical work, and the higher looked on with a
smile. Restraint of law being removed by the countenance
of the higher powers, the mind acted freely from its own
bias.
These considerations determined me to withdraw from all
public business, to spend the small remainder of existence
with my little family, amused with the book and the pen.
It is amazing to consider to what a vast extent popular prejudice will run. Very few men were more liberal in their religious and political sentiments than myself, but now the
slightest actions of my life tended " to sap Government, and
pull down the Church." As a deer selected from the herd to
be run down, I was expunged the society of man. Three or
four friends met once a week to sup at Vauxhall. We were
charged with scheming against Government, we were
threatened with an attack, and the house with being burnt.
We were obliged to desist. Even so lately as April, 1798, as
I passed at three in the morning through Woodcock Lane, in
my way to Mamble to consult a tenant about the repairs of a
house, I was attacked in the dark by three men whom I did
not know, but took for night strollers. They asked "Whither
I was going ?" Not accustomed to such a salutation, I replied
"Not far."
I understood afterwards they were the patrol.
They knew me, and reported "that I was going to some
Jacobin Club, who were plotting against the Government, and
they had a good mind to have followed me." If they had, I
should have led them twenty miles to breakfast at Kidderminster-a dance that would have surprised them.
The fatal 14th of July, 1791, was by far the most important
era of my life-a day never to be forgotten in any future day.
The tide of existence was turned into another, and a bitter
channel. A black cloud was raised over my head, which the

214

Life of William Huttdon.

sun of prosperity can never disperse. A wound was given
which time can never cure.
I entered Birmingham, July
4 th, 1741, as a runaway
apprentice, a forlorn traveller, without money, friends, or
home, and that day fifty years, as a wealthy inhabitant, was
condemned to destruction, and left in a more deplorable
state.
Deprived of the necessary exercise to preserve the life of my
dear love, the disorder made rapid strides. We were alarmed,
and determined to take her to the hot wells at Bristol. My
daughter attended in the chariot, and this was the first journey
in which my attendance was omitted, owing to the derangement of my affairs.
During this interval I purchased for 3001. the little cottage
which is near me at Bennet's Hill, to hide our heads while we
erected our own house. We repaired, and entered it December
I8, quitting Vauxhall with regret, from the kind treatment we had
met with.
Two months prior to the riots I had published the " History

1

of Derby."

I wrote a History of that most savage event at the time, with
a view of publication, but my family would not suffer it to see
the light. I shall now transcribe with exactness the manuscript
copy.

A NARRATIVE
OF THE

RIOTS IN

BIRMINGHAM,
JULY 14, 1791,

PARTICULARLY AS THEY AFFECTED THE AUTHOR.

DEDICATION TO THE LOVERS OF RIOT.
NONE can have a claim to these sheets prior to yourselves, who

are in reality the Authors.
I congratulate you upon your refined taste for pleasure. You
not only enjoy your own mental resources, if such exist, but
those of your neighbours.
Happiness and misery are like
baubles in your hands. You, cannibal-like, devour others to
feed yourselves; or, like the destroying angel, scatter destruction without the control of human laws.
It is among the dark-coloured savages of the earth that a
breach of law appears first, and punishment follows; but you
have the art of reversing this rule of nature, and punishing prior
to the crime.
Why should we wonder that you kindled a
number of fires in Birmingham, for she, salamander-like, has
subsisted for ages by fire. By you she has risen in the annals
of fame higher even than ancient Rome, for Rome had but one
hero to rejoice over her flaming buildings, while Birmingham
had ten thousand. You have discovered a conciser way of acquiring property than by the antiquated mode of industry.
Yours is the right to take what property you please, destroy the
rest, and laugh at the sufferer.

PREFACE.
THIS Narrative was, perhaps, the first ever written upon the
subject, and will be the last published.
It was fabricated
within three weeks of the event, when the heart was deeply impressed with the sad and unmerited consequences. I must
havebeen a peaceable citizen. No lawyer ever became rich by
my quarrels; and many men must have been gainers by
my labour. Yet the severe treatment I met with from the
vulgar was enough to make me question whether I myself was
not the offender who had burnt the houses and destroyed the
property of others.
While I exercised a power over a numerous class of people
in the Court of Requests, I endeavoured to use that power with
mildness. In matters of right all men are equal. No elevation can warrant one man to domineer over another. I have,
in the History of that Court, told the public that I considered
the suitors as my children; and when any of this vast family
looked up to me for peace and justice, I have distributed both
with pleasure.
But how unequal are the returns of favour for
service! The man in office, with half the attention I paid,
generally acquires a fortune, while my reward was destruction!
In that tribunal where I treated others with kindness, and met
with the reverse in return, my heart acquits me of every fault,
except errors of judgment. These are incidental to every man,
and may originate from misinformation. No Judge can try one
hundred causes without a defect : how then can he try a hundred thousand? For this were my houses destroyed, my person
insulted, and my life threatened.

A

NARRATIVE,
ETC.

THIS is my eighth appearance before the world as an Author,
but with this difference from the former seven: they were subjects of choice, this of necessity ; then I wrote from the head,
now from the heart. They were pleasing subjects, but this is
most melancholy. In those I was only a looker-on, but in this
an innocent sufferer.
I thought I had been acquainted with man. But after fifty
years' study, new scenes opened which I had not beheld. It is
easy to account for that temper which prompts to plunder,
when the plunderer is a gainer : but that man should be a wholesale dealer in destruction, without benefit to himself, is diabolical. He can have no claim to the word human but his shape.
His savage fangs tore me to pieces, and ploughed up that even
path of contentment which time cannot again make smooth.
Birmingham, though nearly without a government, had continued in harmony during the forty years of my residence. Religious and political disputes were expiring, when, like a
smothered fire, they burst forth with amazing fury. I have, in
the History of this place, celebrated the mild and peaceable demeanour of the inhabitants, their industry and hospitality; but
I am extremely concerned that I am obliged to soil the fair page
with the black cinders of their burnt buildings. A stranger
would be tempted to inquire whether a few Bonners were not
risen from the dead to establish religion by the faggot ? or
whether the Church was composed of the dregs of the universe,
formed into a crusade ? or whether the friends of the king were
the destroyers of men ? In the dark ages Papist went against
Protestant, but in this enlightened one it is Protestant against
Protestant. But why should I degrade the word religion ? He
who either prompts or acts such horrid scenes can have no religion of his own.

218

A Narrative of

The delightful harmony of this populous place seems to have
been disturbed by five occurrences.
A public library* having been instituted upon an extensive
plan, some of the members attempted to vote in Dr. Priestley's
This proPolemical Works, to which the clergy were averse.
duced two parties, and its natural consequence, animosity in
both. Whether the gentlemen of the black gown acted with
policy is doubtful, for truth never suffers by investigation.
The next was an attempt to procure a repeal of the Test
Act, in which the Dissenters took an active, but a modest part.
Ever well-wishers to their country, the Dissenters were foremost in the quarrel with Charles the First, but they only meant
a reform of abuses. Matters, however, were soon carried beyond
their intention, and they lost their power. They who brought him
into trouble, tried to bring him out. They were afterwards the
first to place his son, Charles the Second, upon the throne,
who requited them evil for good. After suffering various insults
from the House of Stuart, the Dissenters were materially instrumental in promoting the Revolution, and upon this depended
the introduction of the Hanoverian Line, which, to a man, they
favoured. In a thousand mobs, in 1714, to oppose the new
* " The Public Library of Birmingham," says Hutton, in a later edition
of his History of that town, " originated in 1779, and like many important
things from exceedingly minute beginnings. Each member paid a guinea
entrance and 6s. per annum. Their number was so small that they could
scarcely have quarrelled had they been so inclined, and their whole
stock might have been hidden in a handkerchief. In 1781 the subscription was raised to 8s. A librarian then entered the service at iol.
per annum. The Society received from the benevolent hand of Dr.
Priestley, in 1782, that stability and method without which no institution
can prosper. In 1786, admission was advanced to I. IIs. 6d., and an
order made that when the subscribers amounted to 300 it should be 2 guineas,
and when 400oo, guineas.
3

In 1790, 251. per annum was paid for a room,

and 30 guineas to a librarian for superintending a stock of 4ooo volumes."
In 1797, there were 437 subscribers at

Ios.

per annum each, and 7000

volumes. In 1798, a library was erected by tontine subscription of 51.
each share. The building cost nearly ioool. In 1812, the number of
subscribers amounted to 560, the admission was 4 guineas, the annual
subscription 15s., and the number of volumes upwards of 12,00ooo. In
I818, the admission was iol., the annual subscription I7s. 6d., and the
number of volumes about 16,ooo. William Horn had then served the
Institution as librarian thirty-nine years. In 1835 the annual subscription was II., the collection of books contained 20,000 volumes. It
and
now numbers (1870) about 70,000 volumes. Since then it has gone on
increasing, and several other libraries also exist in the town, amongst
which is one of the finest and best Free Libraries in the kingdom.

the Riots in Birmingham.

219

Government, could have been found no more Presbyterians than
in the Birmingham Jury who tried the rioters.
Nor was there
one Presbyterian in the rebellion the following year, nor in that
of I745. In both periods they armed in favour of the House of
Brunswick.
Their loyalty has continued unshaken to the
present day, without their ever having been disturbers of their
country.
They concluded, therefore, that they had a right to
the privileges of other subjects. They meant no more. Those
who charge them with designs either against Church or State
do not know them.
No accusation ought to be admitted
without proof. Can that people be charged with Republicanism,
who have, in the course of one hundred and thirty-two years
placed five Sovereigns on the British Throne? As I was a
member of the committee for the repeal of the Test Act, I was
well acquainted with the proceedings, and will repeat two expressions uttered at the Board.
Mr. William Hunt remarked,
"that he should be as strenuous in supporting the Church of
England as his own." The whole company, about twenty in
number, acquiesced in the sentiment. This gentleman verifies
his assertion by subscribing to more than one church. I myself
remarked, " that what we requested was our right, as well as
that of every subject; we ought to recover it, but rather than
involve our country in dispute, we would resign it." This also was
echoed by the whole body. These were all the Presbyterian
plots either against Church or King I ever knew. Hence it
appears the Presbyterians are as true friends to both as any set
of men whatever, except those who hold Church lands or Court
favours.
Controversy was a third cause. Some uncharitable expressions
falling from the Episcopal pulpits involved Dr. Priestley* in a
* Dr. Joseph Priestley was a native of Yorkshire, having been born at
Field Head, near Leeds, in 1733. In 1761, he went to Warrington, where
he entered upon his duties as tutor in classics and polite literature in the
then famous "Warrington Academy" of the Presbyterians. Here he
remained for six years, leaving it 1767. After a brilliant scientific and
intellectual career, Dr. Priestley was appointed to the pastorate of the "New
Meeting House" at Birmingham, in 1780, where he succeeded the Rev. Mr.
Hawkes. This pastorate Dr. Priestley-" one of the first philosophers of
the age, whose merit seemed obvious to every eye but his own"-held until
the year 1791, when the Meeting House, and his own residence, as well
as those of his friend Hutton and others, were burnt down by the rioters.
This will be fully understood in the following pages. During the Doctors
residence in Birmingham, the great Josiah Wedgwood, his staunch and old

220

A Narrative of

dispute with the clergy.
When acrimony is used by two sides
the weakest only is blameable. To dispute with the Doctor
was deemed the road to preferment. He had already made two
bishops, and there were still several heads which wanted mitres,
and others who cast a more humble eye upon tithes and glebe
lands. The Doctor on his part used some warm expressions,
which his friends wished had been omitted.
These were
placed in horrid lights ; and here again the stronger side ever
reserves to itself the privilege of putting what construction it
pleases upon the words of the weaker.

However, if the peace

of society is broken, we cannot but regret it, whatever be the
cause.

The fourth occurrence was an inflammatory handbill* which

friend, had allowed him twenty-five guineas a year to assist him in his literary
and scientific pursuits, and also in other ways contributed to his well-being.
After the riots Priestley was invited to stay for a time with Wedgwood, at
his house at Etruria, and Wedgwood subscribed liberally to the annuity
which was procured for him. The Doctor, in 1794, emigrated to America,
and died at Northumberland, Pennsylvania, in 1804, where he was buried
in the same tomb with his energetic and excellent wife, and his son Henry,
to both of whom he was fondly attached. Of the time of his residence in
Birmingham, Dr. Priestley wrote, " I consider my settlement at Birmingham
as the happiest event in my life, being highly favourable to every object
I had in view, philosophical or theological. In the former respect I had
the convenience of good workmen of every kind, and the society of persons
eminent for their knowledge of chemistry, particularly Mr. Watt, Mr. Keir,
and Dr. Withering. These, with Mr. Boulton and Dr. Darwin (who soon
left us by removing from Lichfield to Derby), Mr. Galton, and afterwards
Mr. Johnson, of Kenilworth, and myself, dined together every month,
calling ourselves the 'Lunar Society,' because the time of our meeting was
nearly the fuill moon."
* The following is a copy of this inflammatory hand-bill :" My Countrymen-The second year of Gallic Liberty is nearly expired.
At the commencement of the third, on the 14 th of this month, it is devoutly
to be wished that every enemy to civil and religious despotism would give
his sanction to the majestic common cause by a public celebration of the
anniversary. Remember that on the 14th of July, the Bastille, that 'high
altar and castle of despotism,' fell. Remember the enthusiasm peculiar to
the cause of liberty, with which it was attacked. Remember that generous
humanity that taught the oppressed, groaning under the weight of insulted
rights, to save the lives of oppressors ! Extinguish the mean prejudices of
nations ! and let your numbers be collected and sent as a free-will offering
to the National Assembly.
"But is it possible to forget that our own Parliament is venal? your
Minister hypocritical ? your clergy legal oppressors? the Reigning Family
extravagant? the crown of a certain great personage becoming every day

the Riots in Birmingham.

221

operated upon the mind like a pestilence upon the body.
Wherever it touched, it poisoned. Nothing could be more unjust than charging this bill upon the Dissenters, and, in consequence, dooming them to destruction.
It appears from its very
contents that it could not proceed from a body. If it was fabricated by a Dissenter, is it right to punish the whole body with
fire and plunder? This is visiting the sins of one man upon
another. An established maxim is, a man shall only be accountable for his own. It might be written by an incendiary of
another profession to kindle a flame. Perhaps the unthinking
fell upon the Dissenters, because they were vexed they could
not find the author. I have been tempted to question whether
he meant any more than a squib to attract public attention;
but it proved a dreadful one, which burnt our houses.*
The fifth was a public dinner at the hotel to commemorate
the anniversary of the French Revolution.t This, abstractedly
too weighty for the head that wears it ? Too weighty for the people who
gave it? Your taxes partial and excessive? Your Representation a cruel
insult upon the Sacred Rights of Property, Religion, and Freedom ?
"But on the I4th of this month, prove to the political sycophants of the
day that you reverence the Olive Branch; that you will sacrifice to public
tranquillity, till the majority shall exclaim, The Peace of Slavery is worse
than the War of Freedom. Of that moment let tyrants beware !"
This infamous handbill was met, as it ought to be, by the immediate
issue of denials and refutations from both political parties, and the magistrates offered Iool. reward for the discovery of the writer, printer, publisher,
or distributor, but without effect, and the inflammatory mischief was only
increased by these attempts.
* It appeared afterwards that it was fabricated in London, brought to
Birmingham, and that a few copies were privately scattered under the table
at an inn.

1 This dinner was announced by the following advertisement :"Hotel, Birmingham, July 7, 1791.
"Commemoration

of the French Revolution.

"A number of gentlemen intend dining together on the 14th instant, to
commemorate the auspicious day which witnessed the emancipation of
twenty-six millions of people from the Yoke of Despotism, and restored the
blessings of equal Government to a truly great and enlightened nation, with
whom it is our interest, as a commercial people, and our duty, as friends to
the general rights of mankind, to promote a free intercourse, as subservient
to a permanent friendship.
"Any friend to freedom disposed to join this intended temperate festivity, is desired to leave his name at the Bar of the Hotel, where tickets
may be had at five shillings each, including a bottle of wine; but no person

222

A Narrativeof

considered, was an inoffensive meeting. It only became an
error by being ill-timed,
As the minds of men were ruffled, it
ought to have been omitted. Though a man is justified in
doing what is right, it may not always be prudent. We may rejoice with any society of men who were bound and were set free;
but the French Revolution is more their concern than ours. I
do not approve all its maxims, neither do I think it firmly fixed.
One of its measures, however, I admire, that of establishing itself
without the axe and the halter, a practice scarcely known in revolutions. Should a prince and his people differ, the chief
passion it would excite in me would be a desire to make peace
between them. To our everlasting dishonour more mischief
was done in the Birmingham riots than in overturning the
whole French Government.*
Perhaps a preconcerted plan was formed to disturb the
dinner. Many hints were dropped which seem to confirm it.
It is surprising that men of a liberal education should
persevere in the ancient mode of quarrelling for religion. She
nowhere authorizes it. The Christian religion teaches meekness. Everything which differs from this rule is unchristian.
A man possessed of the least reflection well knows it is impos
sible to bring the human race into one mind, neither is it
will be admitted without one. Dinner will be on the table at 3 o'clock
precisely."
An opposition advertisement appeared at the same time, as follows :"On Friday next will be published, price one halfpenny, an Authentic List
of all those who Dine at the Hotel, in Temple Row, Birmingham, on
Thursday, the 14 th instant, in Commemoration of the French Revolution.
Vivant Rex et Regina."
At this dinner neither William Hutton nor Dr. Priestley were present, nor
did they, it appears, take any part in the demonstration in favour of France.
But they were Unitarians, and hence were singled out for ruin, and their
houses for destruction.
* "With all these occurrences, I believe the riots would not have taken
place, had it not been for two men of desperate fortunes, who probably
expected a place or a pension-a hungry Attorney, and a leading Justice.
The first succeeded, and was appointed Barrack Master. To patch up a
shattered fortune he drew accommodation bills. He became a bankrupt,
ruined many persons, died about the year 1794, many thousand pounds in
debt, and his corpse, if I remember right, was arrested. I have been
informed that his effects paid eighteen-pence in the pound.
The Justice had succeeded to an estate of about 6ool. a year. He soon
became poor, and was often arrested. He died a year or two after the
Attorney, and in March, i8io, his effects, in a first and final dividend, paid
TWO-PENCE in the pound."

the Riots in Birmingham.

223

worth the trial. Disputes, instead of converting the man to my
sentiments, tend to confirm him in his own. They may widen
a breach, but never close one. Besides, it has never yet been
determined what true religion is. It has varied in all ages.
What was right to-day, was wrong to-morrow. Synods and
Councils have been doing and undoing from the Edicts of
Constantine down to the Convocations of the Clergy.
As the true religion has its foundation in no fixed ideas, it
follows that true religion is that which a man chooses himself,
and not that which another chooses for him. Conscience can
bear no control. Can law hold dominion over the mind?
To force a religion upon a man is an unjust exertion of power.
What man has a right to direct his fellow-men in their worship ?
What imperious mortal shall say to his Creator, "You shall
have no incense but what passes through my hands. I will
hold the keys of heaven, and admit or repel what offerings I
please !"

Were I to give a confession of faith, I should readily
pronounce that every religion upon earth is right, and yet
none are perfect, for perfection is not with us. Infinite wisdom
has appointed many ways to happiness. The road a man
takes is of less consequence than his conduct in that road.
The different modes of conducting worship are only ceremonials, which are in themselves indifferent. Every species of
religion tends to improve the man, otherwise it is not religion.
Should a Jew cheat me, I have no right to charge it to his
religion, but to his want of religion: he must have fallen short
of its principles. If a Presbyterian is accused of lying, he falls
short of its profession. If a Churchman is accused of swearing,
he will find it difficult to justify himself by the Liturgy. Hence
it follows, that I cannot blame either the King or the Church,
though my houses were destroyed in those names, for it was
done by people who would have sold their King for a jug of
ale, and demolished the Church for a bottle of gin. The few
among them who were instigators better understood thirtynine bottles of wine than the Thirty-nine Articles. These are
the weeds of the Church, the tares among wheat. The real
members of the Church of England disdain every idea of wanton
cruelty. If one religion merits a preference to another, that
preference ought to arise from an extension of benevolence.
This character, I am told, belongs to the disciples of the
celebrated Emanuel Swedenborg, for they with open arms

2 24

A Narraive of

enfold the whole human race, and treat them as brethren.
Upon this principle a doubt arises, whether our National
Establishment is a true Church, for she has been unfriendly to
the Dissenters in England and the slaves in America. She
has now been supported by ten thousand " dn
your bloods,"
armed with bludgeons and lighted faggots; she therefore seems
under the necessity of justifying what these members have
done, or disowning them as brethren. Should they be found
to be fellow churchmen, the Church stands in need of purging,
for her constitution is foul.
I am, however, a firm friend to our present Establishment,
notwithstanding her blemishes. When I attend its worship,
for I occasionally do, I can sincerely join in the petitions for
her prosperity and that of the King; and in convivial moments
have no objection to drink both; but not that Church which
was bellowed out of ten thousand filthy mouths, and chalked
in disgrace upon as many houses on the 4 th of July. This
must be proved a Church, before I can either pray for or drink
to its success.
I never attempted to make a convert, nor ever will, for this
reason : I consider every person as possessed of the powers of
free agency, and an absolute right to his own faith. If he asks
my sentiments, I have a right to give them, but in no case to
force his own; neither am I a slave to other men's creeds,
forms, or articles of faith; for though they may be drawn
from the sacred fountain, that fountain is open to me, and I
can draw for myself.
It appears from the above confession of faith, that I am not
only a Presbyterian, but a Churchman, a Quaker, a Baptist, a
Roman Catholic, a Muggletonian, nay, all the religions in the
alphabet: in other words, I would have all perfectly free,
because, as I wish to be supported in my own worship, I am
bound to support every man in his. I never despised another
because he differed from me; it was part of his birthright, and I
think it an honour that I have friends of every persuasion. The
late worthy Mr. Newling, Rector of St. Philip's, courted my
friendship, had it, has taken my arm and sheltered it under his
own, with this affecting remark, "Though we pursue different
roads, we may meet at last."
It would be happy if a man could enjoy his own opinions,
and let another alone in his. "The ardent desire of making
proselytes," as I have observed in the History of Derby, "h1as

1

the Riots in Birmingham.

225

been the bane of the Christian world." However just might have
been Dr. Priestley's sentiments, yet, had he not promulgated
them on one side, and party-violence opposed them on the
other, perhaps the peace of my life had never been wrecked in
the dreadful tempest of ninety-one, but I had continued upon
an equal footing with my fellow-townsmen.
If the Doctor
chooses to furnish the world with candles, it reflects a lustre
upon himself, but there is no necessity to oblige every man to
carry one. It is the privilege of an Englishman to walk in
darkness if he chooses.
The fatal I 4 th of July was now arrived, a day that will mark
Birmingham with disgrace for ages to come. The laws had lost
their protection, every security of the inhabitants was given up,
the black fiends of hell were whistled together and let loose for
unmerited destruction. She has reason to keep that anniversary
in sackcloth and ashes. About eighty persons of various denominations dined together at the hotel. During dinner, which
was short, perhaps from three to five o'clock, the infant mob,
collected under the auspices of a few in elevated life, began.
with hooting, crying " Church and King," and broke the
hotel windows.
All the endeavours to stop this violence were, "Do not break
The inference is
Dadley's windows, he is a 'Churchman."'
plain, You may break Presbyterian windows. A few of our
leading people have been reproached for their behaviour, and
I must confess in all their vindications there is a fallacy.
Their conduct divides itself into two parts, that while the mob
was assembling, and that when assembled.
Only the latter of these is touched upon. There is too much
reason to believe the superiors wished to raise the mob, and
fatally succeeded, and I believe they afterwards wished to lay it,
but could not.
Tumultuous crowds seldom rise of themselves, except to
redress a supposed grievance of their own, as a scarcity of work,
oppressive taxes, a want of provisions, to prevent enclosure, or
raise the price of labour. If therefore they do not rise, nothing
is plainer than that they must have been raised. " The Church
and King" have been put into their mouths, for they knew but
little of either. The fine arts of raising a mob are well understood.
A smile, a glance, a word, nay, even the presence of a
superior not in professed opposition, will do the work. Those
trifles, which are so far from criminating that they can scarcely
Q

A Narrative of

226

be reduced to words, are well understood by a willing mob,
and will accomplish the end. When a body of insurgents rose
at Nottingham to demolish the mills because bread was scarce,
one who commanded the mischievous tribe said, with a significant side-glance, "Do not meddle with Mr. Wyre's mill."
The true meaning was well understood, the mill was instantly
Had a mob asked the late
destroyed, and the abettor safe.
John Wyrley, " If he would allow them to knock the powder
out of Dr. Priestley's wig ?" would he have smiled assent ? When
a rabble, assembled for mischief, look up to their superiors, is
it prudent to say, " We will always be friends to the Birmingham
lads."* This is a laudable expression taken in a literal sense;
but its meaning was fraught with destruction. If a reverend
divine should influence half Birmingham, and should be told,
The
"' mob are now destroying Dr. Priestley's house," would it
be prudent to say, " That's right ?" These two small words are
sufficient to prove his private sentiments, and half this is sufficient to fire a street. Perhaps this gentleman has a taste for
antiquity; and as burning was the voice of the pulpit ages
back, he may not wish to alter it.
As Mr. Chillingworth walked by the hotel early in the
afternoon of the 14th, twenty or thirty people were assembled,
all quiet: he heard one of the town-beadles say to another,
" This will be such a day as we never saw." "Why so ?" says
Chillingworth. After repeated inquiries, one of them replied,
" The gentlemen will not suffer this treatment from the Presbyterians; they will be put on no longer." The beadles could not
make this remark without having heard hostile expressions
fall from the gentlemen, which proves a preconcerted plan.
Every political mob has an owner. That in the reign of
Richard the Second had Wat Tyler. That under Henry the
Sixth, Jack Cade. Those in the reign of Queen Anne were
commanded by Dr. Sacheverel and his subalterns. Those
under George the First by the Jacobites. That in 1780, by
Lord George Gordon; and this, I am sorry to say, by some of
our principalinhabitants.
It was now between-eight and nine; the numbers of the mob
Dr. Priestley was
were increased, their spirits were inflamed.
sought for, but he had not dined at the hotel. The magistrates,
*

This was said by the magistrate mentioned in Note, page 222.

the Riots in Birmingham.

227

who had dined at the Swan, a neighbouring tavern, by way of
counterbalance, huzzaed Church and King, waving their hats,
which inspired fresh vigour into the mob, so that they verily
thought, and often declared, they acted with the approbation at
least of the higher powers, and that what they did was right.
The windows of the hotel being broken, a gentleman said,j
"You have done mischief enough here, go to the Meetings." A
simple remark, and almost without precise meaning, but it involved a dreadful combination of ideas. There was no need to
say, "Go and burn the Meetings." The mob marched down
Bull Street under the smiles of magistrates.
It has been
said that these were compelled to echo the cry of the multitude,
but it is not wholly true. While the insurgents were intoxicated with liquor and power, and carried vengeance where
they pleased, it was necessary to say as they said, and many
persons damned the Presbyterians who were their real friends;
but till the New Meeting was condemned, this was far from
being the case; every smile, word, or huzza encouraged them.
Had the same wish existed to repress, as did to raise them, no
mischief had ensued.
An enraged mob is one of the greatest calamities under
heaven. One would think Lord George Gordon had taught a
lesson that would have lasted for ages ! This many-headed monster was designed to be let loose upon us as a gentle scourge
only; but what man would play with a candle amidst gunpowder, because he thinks he is master of the blaze ? If destruction. is the consequence, does it palliate the evil to say,
"He never meant it ?" Nor is his striving to extinguish the
flame, when the conflagration is beyond his power, an extenuation of his folly.
SThe New Meetingt was broken open without ceremony, the
pews, cushions, books, and pulpit were dashed to pieces, and in
half an hour the whole was in a blaze, while the savage multitude rejoiced at the view.
I am now come to the second part of my narrative, and entirely agree with the magistrates, that it was not in their power,
by persuasions, to quell the mob. But let me ask, when the
spirit of a vile banditti is raised into fury, were they ever known
to listen to persuasion-? Every one can tell that nothing short
*

This gentleman was the attorney mentioned in Note, page 222.
± Dr. Priestley's Chapel.
Q2

228

A Narrativeof

of fire-arms can effect the purpose. This was the moment to
arm the willing inhabitants, and send express for a military
force.
The Old Meeting* was the next mark of the mob. This underwent the fate of the New: and here again a system seems to
have been adopted, for the engines were suffered to play upon
the adjoining houses to prevent their taking fire, but not upon
the Meeting House, which was levelled with the ground.
The mob then undertook a march of more than a mile, to
the house of Dr. Priestley, which was plundered and burnt
without mercy, the Doctor and his family barely escaping. Exclusive of the furniture, a very large and valuable library was
destroyed, the collection of a long and assiduous life.
But the greatest loss that Dr. Priestley sustained was in the
destruction of his philosophical apparatus, and his remarks.
These can never be replaced. I am inclined to think he would
not have destroyed his apparatus and manuscripts for any sum
of money that could have been offered him. His love to man
was great, his usefulness greater. I have been informed by the
faculty that his experimental discoveries on air, applied to
medical purposes, have preserved the lives of thousands; and,
in return, he can scarcely preserve his own.
A clergyman attended this outrage, and was charged with exI think he paid
amining and even ocketing the manuscripts.
the Doctor a compliment, by showing a regard for his works.
I will farther do him the justice to believe he never meant to
keep them, to invade the Doctor's profession by turning
philosopher, or to sell them, though valuable; but only to exchange them with the minister for preferment. There may be
fortitude in dying for treason, but there is more profit in getting
a living by it.
Breaking the windows of this hotel, burning the two Meeting Houses, and Dr. Priestley's, finished the dreadful work of
Thursday night. To all this I was a perfect stranger, for I had
left the town early in the evening, and slept in the country.
my servant told me
When I arose the next morning, July
what had happened. I was inclined to believe it only a report :
but coming to the town, I found it a melancholy truth, and
matters wore an unfavourable aspect, for one mob cannot con-

15,

* This was at Fair Hill, a mile and a half from the town.

Ite Riots in Birmingham.

229

tinue long inactive, and there were two or three floating up anddown, seeking whom they might devour, though I was not under
the least apprehension of danger to myself. The affrighted
inhabitants came in bodies to ask my opinion. As the danger
admitted of no delay, I gave this short answer-"Apply to the
magistrates, and request four things: to swear in as many
constables as are willing, and arm them; to apply to the
commanding officer of the recruiting parties for his assistance;
to apply to Lord Beauchamp to call out the militia in the neighbourhood; and to write to the Secretary at War for a military
force." What became of my four hints is uncertain, but the
result proved they were lost.
Towards noon a body of near a thousand attacked the
mansion of my friend, John Ryland, Esq., at Easy Hill. He
was not at the dinner. Every room was entered with eagerness ;
but the cellar, in which were wines to the amount of 3001., with
ferocity. Here they regaled till the roof fell in with the flames,
and six or seven lost their lives. I was surprised at this rude
attack, for I considered Mr. Ryland as a friend to the whole
human race. He had done more public business than any
other within my knowledge, and not only without a reward, but
without a fault. I thought an obelisk ought rather to have been
raised to his own honour, than his house burnt down to the
disgrace of others.
About this time a person approached me in tears, and told
me "my house was condemned to fall." As I had never with
design offended any man, nor heard any allegations against my
conduct, I could not credit the information. Being no man's
enemy, I could not believe I had an enemy myself. I thought
the people, who had known me forty years, esteemed me too
much to injure me. But I drew from fair premises false conclusions. My fellow-sufferers had been guilty of one fault, but
I of two. I was not only a Dissenter, but an active Commissioner in the Court of Requests. With regard to the first
my sentiments were never rigid. There seems to me as much
Nature
reason to allow for a difference of opinion as of face.
never designed to make two things alike. Whoever will take
the trouble to read my works will neither find a persecuting,
disloyal, or republican thought. In the office of Commissioner
I studied the good of others, not my own. Three points I
ever kept in view : to keep order, do justice tempered with
lenity, and compose differences, Armed with power, I have

230

A Narrative of

put a period to thousands of quarrels, have softened the rugged
tempers of devouring aritagonists, and, without expense to
themselves, sent them away friends. But the fatal rock upon
which I split was, I never could find a way to let both Parties
win. If ninety-nine were content, and one was not, that one
would be more solicitous to injure me than the ninety-nine to
serve me.
It never appeared when the military force was sent for, but
I believe about noon this day. The express, however, did not
arrive in London till the next, at two in the afternoon. What
could occasion this insufferable neglect, or why the Riot Act
was omitted to be read sooner, I leave to the magistrates.
Many solicitations were made to the magistrates for assistance
to quell the mob, but the answer was, "Pacific measures are
adopted." Captain Archibald, and Lieutenants Smith and
Maxwell, of recruiting parties, offered their service; still the
same answer. A gentleman asked if he might arm his dependents ? " The hazard will be yours."
Again, whether he
might carry a brace of pistols in his own defence ? "If you
kill a man you must be responsible."
Thus sentenced and tied we were to suffer destruction without remedy. Had the inhabitants been suffered to arm, there
were people enough willing to oppose the rioters; but every
degree of courage was extinguished, and an universal damp
prevailed. The same timid spirit operated as was found in the
ancient Britons when they called in the Saxons.
About noon also some of my friends advised me "to take
care of my goods, for my house must come down." I treated
the advice as ridiculous, and replied, " That was their duty,
and the duty of every inhabitant, for my case was theirs; I had
only the power of an individual. Besides, fifty waggons could
not have carried off my stock in trade, exclusive of the furniture of my house ; and if they could, where must I deposit it?"
I sent, however, a small quantity of paper to a neighbour, who
returned it, and the whole afterwards fell a prey to rapine.
All business was now at a stand. The shops were shut.
The town prison and that of the Court of Requests were
thrown open, and their strength was added to that of their deliverers. Some gentlemen advised the insurgents assembled in
New Street to disperse; when one, whom Iwell knew, said,
"Do not disperse, they want to sell us. If you will pull down
Hutton's house I will give you two guineas to drink, for it was

the Rio/s in birmnihgam.

231I

owing to him I lost a cause in the Court." The bargain was
instantly struck, and my building fell.
About three o'clock they approached me. I expostulated
with them. " They would have money." I gave them all I
had, even to a single halfpenny, which one of them had the
meanness to take. They wanted more, "nor would they submit to this treatment," and began to break the windows, and
attempted the goods. I then borrowed all I instantly could,
which I gave them, and shook a hundred hard and black hands.
"We will have some drink." "You shall have what you please
if you will not injure me." I was then seized by the collar on
both sides, and hauled a prisoner to a neighbouring publichouse, where, in half an hour, I found an ale-score against me
of 329 gallons.

The affrighted magistrates were now sitting at the Swan in
Bull Street, swearing constables, whom they ordered to rendezvous in St. Philip's Churchyard, "where they would meet
them." Here the new-created officers, armed with small sticks,
waited with impatience, but no magistrates came. They then
bent their course, without a leader, to New Street, attacked
the mob which had been with me most furiously, and in a
minute dispersed it. As my house was in the utmost danger,
they ought to have stayed to protect it, instead of which they
went to guard Mr. Ryland's, nearly burnt down. Here the
mob came upon them with double force, took their weapons,
totally routed them, maimed several, and killed Mr. Thomas
Ashwin.
My son wishing to secure our premises, purchased the favour
of Rice, one of the leaders, who promised to preserve his person and property, and assured him that his men would implicitly
obey him. Hearing Mr. Taylor's house was in danger, theymarched to Bordesley, one mile, to save it, but found another
mob had begun to rob and burn it. I could assign .no more
reason why they attempted Mr. Taylor's property than Mr.
Ryland's. No man could cultivate peace and social harmony
more. His is the art of doing good by stealth. Offence was
never charged against him; but alas, he was a Dissenter. The
sons of plunder, and their abettors, forgot that the prosperity
of Birmingham was owing to a Dissenter, father to the man
whose property they weredestroying. He not only supplied
thousands of that class who were burning his son's house with
the means of bread, but taught their directors the roads to

232

A Narrativeof

invention, industry, commerce, and affluence; roads which 'n
man trod before him. Nay, when the Meeting Houses were
fallen, and the Church was falling, even this violent outrage
itself was quelled by the vigilance of a Dissenter, Captain
Polhill.
Rice and my son, being too late to render any essential
service to Mr. Taylor's premises, returned to save our own.
But meeting in Digbeth some of our furniture, Rice declared it
was too late; that he could have kept off the mob, but
could not bring them off. Perhaps the instant view of plunder
had changed his sentiments. Meeting a rogue near the Swan
with a bundle of paper worth 51, Rice damned him, and
ordered him to lay it down. The rogue instantly obeyed.
Rice sat upon it, while my son requested a neighbour to take
it in, who refused. He then applied to a second, but received
the same answer, and was obliged to leave Rice and the paper
to secure his own person.
Rice then joined the depredators in destroying my house
and its contents, and the next morning was one of the leaders
in burning my house at Bennet's Hill.
These facts were
proved against him on his trial by the clearest evidence, and
yet an alibi was admitted from one who swore he was then
drinking a pot of ale with a soldier at a public-house; but,
had he sworn he was drinking with the man in the moon, the
oath would have been freely admitted.
In this man we behold a curious picture of the human
mind. He could not keep out of action, though that action
was mischief. Left to himself he would quickly destroy property without the least animosity to the owner, and, for a few
shillings, would save it without the least love. Had he been
time enough to prevent the mob, I have no doubt of his fidelity;
but as he was not, he could not refrain from becoming a
plunderer.
About five this evening, Friday, I had retreated to my house
at Bennet's Hill, where, about three hours before, I had left
my afflicted wife and daughter, and had seen a mob at
Mr. Jukes's house in my road. I found that my people had
applied to a neighbour to secure some of our furniture, who
refused; to a second, who consented; but another shrewdly
remarking that he would run a hazard of having his own house
burnt, a denial was the consequence. A third request was
made, but cut short with a No. The fourth man consented,

the Riots in Birmingham.

233

and we emptied the.house into his house and barn. Before
night, however, he caught the terror of the neighbourhood,
and ordered the principal part of the furniture back, and we
were obliged to obey.
At midnight I could see from my house the flames of
Bordesley Hall rise with dreadful aspect. I learned that
after I quitted Birmingham the mob had attacked my house
there three times. My son bought them off repeatedly; but
in the fourth, which began about nine at night, they laboured
till eight the next morning, when they had so completely
ravaged my dwelling, that I write this narrative in a house
without furniture, without roof, door, chimney-piece, window,
or window-frame. During this interval of eleven hours, a
lighted candle was brought four times, with intent to fire the
house, but, by some humane foot, it was kicked out. At my
return I found a large heap of shavings, chips, and faggots,
covered with about three hundredweight of coal in an under
kitchen, ready for lighting.
The different pieces of furniture were hoisted to the upper
windows to complete their destruction; and those pieces which
survived the fall, were dashed to atoms by three bludgeoners
stationed below for that service. Flushed with this triumphant
exercise of lawless power, the words, "Down with the Court of
Conscience !" " No more ale scores to be paid," were repeated.
A gentleman remarked to the grand slaughterers of my goods,
" You'll be hanged, as the rioters were in 1780." " O, damn
him," was the reply, "he made me pay fifteen shillings in the
Court of Conscience." This remark was probably true, for
that diabolical character which could employ itself in such
base work, was very likely to cheat another of fifteen shillings,
and I just as likely to prevent him.
Burning Mr. Ryland's house at Easy Hill, Mr. Taylor's at
Bordesley, and the destruction of mine at Birmingham, were
the work of Friday the 15th.
Saturday the i6th was ushered in with fresh calamities to
myself. The triumphant mob, at four in the morning,
attacked my premises at Bennet's Hill, and threw out
the furniture I had tried to save. It was consumed in three
fires, the marks of which remain, and the house expired in one
vast blaze. The women were as alert as the men. One female,
who had stolen some of the property, carried it home while
the house was in flames; but returning, saw the coach-house

234

A Narrativeof

and stables unhurt, and exclaimed, with the decisive tone of an
Amazon, " Damn the coach-house, is not that down yet? We
will not do our work by halves !"

She instantly brought a

lighted faggot from the building, set fire to the coach-house,
*

and reduced the whole to ashes.
The beautiful and costly mansion of George Humphrys, Esq.,
was the next victim. He had prepared for a vigorous defence,
and would most certainly have been victorious, for he had
none but rank cowards to contend with, but female fears overbalanced manly courage. One pistol, charged with powder,
sent them away; and though they returned in greater numbers,
The destruction of William Hutton's property is thus spoken of in
" Aris's Birmingham Gazette " of the following week:-

"

This night (Friday, July 15th) the house of Mr. Hutton in the High
Street, which had been assaulted once or twice during the day, was
entered, and completely stripped of its contents; his large stock of paper,
his son's very valuable library, and all his furniture, were destroyed or
carried away. This depredation was committed chiefly by boys and
prostitutes. A woman made an attempt to fire the house, but she was
knocked down by the populace, who took the light from her, and, out of
regard to the neighbouring buildings, would not suffer it to be applied.
From Mr. Hutton's house in town they proceeded early on Saturday
morning to his country house at Washwood Heath, three miles hence,
which, with its offices, they reduced to ashes."
In the same newspaper appeared the following letter from the pen of
William Hutton :"Birmingham, July 23rd, 1791.
" It is a material relief to that calamity under which I labour to find,
since my return, every man my friend, except the people who composed
the mob of plunderers, or wished to join them. I shall ever express an
obligation to those who preserved any of my property from destruction,
but it gives me great concern that much of it has been destroyed through a
fear of restoring it, when I have already declared to the world that I
would receive it with gratitude. My friends will add to the obligations
under which they have laid me by restoring the lost property as little
damaged as possible, particularly the PRINTS and BooKs, the value of
which is upwards of a thousand pounds. 'Many of the books are scarce,
and in sets; the loss of one diminishes the value of the remainder, and is
an injury which time, assiduity, and money, can never repair. There is
also lost plate, a gold watch, beaded chain with gold trinkets, and jewels
to a considerable amount, exclusive of stock-in-trade, furniture, apparel,
household linen, &c. Should any suspected articles be offered to sale or
pawn, I shall be extremely obliged to those to whom they are offered
to' stop both persons and property till they give me information. The
books, the property of my son, have generally the arms on a copper
plate, two inches square, pasted on the inside of the cover, with THOMAS
HUTTON; and, if torn off, the mark will remain.
" W. HUTTON."

the Riots in ?irmingham.

235

one blunderbuss would have banished them for ever. His
house was sacked, and the internal parts destroyed.
The next sacrifice was the house of William Russell, Esq., at
Showell Green. He had prepared men, arms, ammunition,
and a determined resolution for defence; but, finding his auxiliaries rotten, he gave up his house and its contents to the flames.
The house of Thomas Russell, Esq., and that of Mr. Hawkes,
at Moseley-Wake Green, were the next attacked.
They
were plundered and greatly injured, but not burnt. To be a
Dissenter was a crime not to be forgiven, but a rich Dissenter
merited the extreme of vengeance.
Moseley Hall, the property of John Taylor, Esq., and inhabited by Lady Carhampton, mother to the Duchess of
Cumberland, was not to be missed. Neither the years of this
lady, being blind with age, nor her alliance to the Crown, were
able to protect it. She was ordered by the mob to remove her
furniture, and told, if she wanted help, they would assist her;
but that the mansion must not stand. She was therefore, like
Lot, hastened away before the flames arose, but not by angels. *
As riches could not save a man, neither could poverty. The
mob next fell upon a poor, but sensible Presbyterian parson,
the Rev. John Hobson, of Balsall Heath, and burnt his all.
From the house of Mr. Hobson, the intoxicated crew proceeded to that of William Piddock, at King's Heath, inhabited
by an inoffensive blind man, John Harwood, a Baptist; and
this ended their work on Saturday the T6th, in which were
destroyed eigkt houses, exclusive of Mr. Coates's, which was
plundered and damaged.
Some of the nobility, justices, and gentlemen arrived this
day, sat in council, drank their wine, harangued the mobs,
wished them to desist, told them what mishchief they had done,
which they already knew ; and that they had done enough,
* "The rioters having in the morning sent notice to the Dowager
Countess of Carhampton that, as her residence was the property of Mr.
Taylor, they should certainly destroy it, and that she must, in a few
hours, remove herself and goods; that noble and worthy lady sent her
furniture to a neighbouring house, and was herself conveyed by Robert
Lawley to Coleshill, where we believe she still remains, and in the evening
Moseley Hall, a large and lately built stone edifice, with its offices,
stables, hay-stacks, &c.; the house of Mr. Harwood, in the neighbourhood;
and the house of the Rev. Mr. Hobson, a Dissenting minister, on the Moseley
Road, were all on fire at the same time."

A Narrative of

236

which they did not believe; but not one word of fire-arms,
a fatal proof that facfic measures were adopted. To tell a
mob " They have done enough," supposes that something ought
to have been done. A clear ratification of hart at least of
their proceedings.
On this day some curious advertisements appeared. I shall
insert one or two for the dastardly spirit they exhibit; another
for its singular composition.
" Birmingham, July i6, i791.
" FRIENDS

AND

FELLOW COUNTRYMEN,-It

is

earnestly

requested that every true friend to the Church of England, and
to the laws of his country, will reflect how much a continuance
of the present proceedings must injure that Church and that
King they are intended to support, and how highly unlawful
it is to destroy the rights and property of any of our neighbours.
And all true friends to the town and trade of Birmingham, in
particular, are intreated to forbear immediately from all riotous
and violent proceedings, dispersing and returning peaceably to
their callings, as the only way to do credit to themselves and
theircause, and to promote the peace, happiness, and prosperity
of this great and flourishing town."
" Birmingham, Sunday, July

17,

1791.

"IniortantInformation to the Friends of Church and King.
"FRIENDS

AND BROTHER CHURCHMEN,-Being convinced

you are unacquainted that the great losses which are sustained
by your burning and destroying of the houses of so many individuals will eventually fall upon the county at large, and not
upon the persons to whom they belonged, we feel it our duty
to inform you that the damage already done, upon the best
calculation that can be made, will amount to upwards of One
Hundred ThousandPounds ! the whole of which enormous sum
will be charged upon the respective parishes, and paid out of the
rates. We therefore, as your friends, conjure you immediately
to desist from the destruction of any more houses, otherwise
the very proceedings of your zeal for showing your attachment
to your Church and King will eventually be the means of
most seriously injuring innumerable families, who are hearty supporters of Government, and bring on an addition of taxes,
which yourselves and the rest of the friends of the Church
will feel a very grievous burthen.
"This we assure you was the case in London, when there were

ltze Riots in Birmingham.

237

so many houses and public buildings burnt and destroyed in
the year 1780, and you may rely upon it will be the case on the
present occasion.
"And we must observe to you that any farther violent proceedings will more offend your King and country than serve
the cause of him and the Church.
" Fellow Countrymen, as you love your King, regard his Law,
and Restore Peace.
"GOD

SAVE

THE KING."

This humiliating address, signed by sixteen gentlemen," disgraces the pages which record it. It was no more likely to soften
the breast of the savages, than reflect honour upon the authors.
What should we think of the folly of that farmer, who, while
swarms of vermin were destroying his property, should call
them friends and brothers, tell them sedately what mischief
they had done, and humbly petition them to desist? I know
not the authors, nor shall I ever inquire; but as I am well
assured that many of the names crept in without the consent
of the owners, I will not subject them to the public eye.
" Whereas some detestable villains, from the most wicked
motives to injure Mr. William Windsor, a tenant of Mr. Brooke's,
at Ashsted, have circulated a report that Mr. Windsor's
buildings at Ashsted belong to the Corporation at Coventry.
As such report is evidently intended to incense the friends of
Church and King to destroy the property of the said W.
Windsor, Mr. Brooke, whose most hearty attachment is well
known to the real friends of Church and King, begs leave to
address them with the most solemn assurance, upon the word
and honour of a Church and King's man, that the Corporation
of Coventry, nor any Presbyterian, have any concern or interest
whatever in the buildings and property of the said W. Windsor,
at Ashsted, nor any of the buildings of Mr. Brooke, or any other
person at Ashsted. But that upon all occasions for the city of
Coventry, where the said W. Windsor lived before he came to
* The following are the names attached to this address :-

Aylesford.
E. Finch.
Robert Lawley.
,Robert Lawley, jun.
R. Moland.

W. Digby.
Edward Carver.
John Brooke.
J. Carles.
B. Spencer.
W. Wallis Mason.

Charles Curtis.
Spencer Madan.
Edward Palmer.
W. Villiers.
Henry Gres. Lewis.

238

A Narrative of

Ashsted, he uniformly voted against the Corporation and Presbyterian interest, and always szpported the real True Blue, which
is the Church and King party. Mr. Brooke therefore is convinced that this address will be attended to by the gentlemen
of the Church and King tarty,and offers a reward of ten guineas
for the detection of the rascalswho gave rise to so false a report.
" CHURCH AND KING FOR EVER."

Some have suspected that this address, which deems every
man a detestable villain who is uncertain whether W. Windsor
or the Corporation are interested at Ashsted, and which tells us
the friends of the Church are the destroyers of property, issued
from a Spitfire club. I shall convey this specimen of modern
rhetoric to the next generation. The figures being in realtrue
blue, cannot fade. 1 should suspect that William Windsor was
a Presbyterian, from the great pains taken to shelter his buildings under the Church, and convince the world he was a Church
and King's man, anda real True Blue. I have read of blue hospitals, blue boys, and blue devils, but never of a blue church,
or a blue king. As, therefore, the Church of England is not of
that colour, he cannot, by his own confession, be one of her
sons. The man who supports the real True Blue, can only be
he who wears a blue coat; consequently, as the Dissenters are,
at this moment, the most depressed people in the whole island,
and as they wear blue indiscriminately with other denominations
of Christians, he undoubtedly meant to elevate them to the rank
of their fellow-citizens : as such, he deserves a Vote of Plate
equally with "The gentlemen of the Church and King party."
Dissensions died away under the apprehension of common
danger. Half the watchword of the mob, the Church, was
afraid; for many of the Establishment had been plundered, and
horror was painted in every face. They might say with Moses
in the Mount, "I exceedingly fear and quake." Nay, it appears from the above advertisements, that those who professed
the most "attachment to Church and King" trembled.
Inquiries were made every moment, "When will the military
arrive to defend us ?" but not one thought occurred of defending
ourselves. Such is the infatuation of the mind, and such the
consequence when mobs are masters.
With regard to myself, I felt more resentment than fear; and
would most willingly have made one, even of a small number, to
arm and face them. My family, however, would not suffer me to

the Riots in Birmingham.

239

stay in Birmingham, and I was, on Saturday morning, the I6th,
obliged to run away like a thief, and hide myself from the world.
I had injured no man, and yet durst not face man. I had
spent a life in distributing justice to others, and now wanted it
myself. However fond of home, and whatever were my comforts there, I was obliged, with my family, to throw myself
upon the world without money in my pocket.
We stopped at Sutton Coldfield, and as we had no abode,
took apartments for the summer. Here I fell into company
with a clergyman, a lawyer, a country squire, and two other
persons, who all lamented the proceedings at Birmingham, perhaps through fear, they being in its vicinity, and blamed Dr.
*Priestleyas the cause. I asked what he had done ? " He has
written such letters! Besides, what shameful healths were
drank at the hotel." As I was not at the dinner, I could not
speak of the healths; but I replied, " If the Doctor, or any
one else, had broken the laws of his country, those laws were
.open to punish him, but the present mode of revenge was detested even by savages." We left our argument, as arguments
are usually left by disputants, where we found it.
Things passed on till the evening, when the mistress of the
house was seized with the fashionable apprehensions of the day,
and requested us to depart, lest her house should be burnt.
We were obliged to pack up, which was done in one minute,
for we had only the clothes which covered us, and roll on to
Tamworth.
I asked the people at the Castle Inn whether they knew me.
They answered in the negative. I had now a most painful
task to undergo. " Though I have entered your house," said
I, "as a common guest, I am a desolate wanderer, without
money to pay or property to pledge." The man who had paid
his bills during sixty-eight years must have been sensibly
touched to make this declaration. If he had feelings, it would
call them forth. Their countenance fell on hearing it. I farther told them I was known to Mr. Robert Bage, a gentleman
of the neighbourhood, whom I would request to pay my bill.
My credit rose in proportion to the value of the name mentioned. Myself, my wife, son, and daughter passed the night
at the Castle at Tamworth.
We now entered upon Sunday, the
I rose early, not
from sleep, but from bed. The lively sky and bright sun
seemed to rejoice the whole creation, and dispel every gloom

17th.

240

A Narrativeof

but mine. I could see through the eye of every face that
serenity of mind which I had lost.
As the storm in Birmingham was too violent to last, it seemed
prudent to be near the place, that I might embrace the first
opportunity of protecting the wreck of a shattered fortune.
We moved to Castle Bromwich.
Ranting, roaring, drinking, burning, is a life of too much
rapidity for the human frame to support. Oui black sovereigns
had now held it nearly three days and nights, when nature
called for rest; and the bright morning displayed the fields,
roads, and hedges, lined with friends and brother Churchmen
dead drunk. There were, however, enough awake to kindle
new fires. On Sunday, the
they bent their course to
Wharstock, a single house, inhabited by Mr. Cox, and licensed
for public worship, which, after emptying the cellar, they burnt.
Penetrating one mile farther, they arrived at Kingswood
Meeting House, which they laid in ashes. This solitary place
had fallen by the hand of violence in the beginning of George
the First, for which a person of the name of Dollax was executed, and from him it acquired the name of St. Dollax,
which it still bears. He was the first person who suffered after
passing the Riot Act.
Three hundred yards beyond, they arrived.at the parsonagehouse, which underwent the same fate.
Perhaps they found the parish of King's Norton too barren
to support a mob in affluence ; for they returned towards Birmingham, which, though dreadfully sacked, yet was better
furnished with money, strong liquors, and various other property. King's Norton is an extensive manor belonging to the
king, whose name they were advancing upon the walls, whose
honour they were augmenting by burning three places of worship in his manor, and by destroying nine houses, the property
of his peaceable tenants.
The Wednesbury colliers now assembled in a body, and
marched into Birmingham to join their brethren under Church
and King; but, finding no mob in the town, they durst not
venture upon an attack, but retreated in disappointment. As
they could not, however, return with a safe conscience without
mischief, they attacked Mr. Male's house, at Belle Vue, six
miles from the town; but he, with that spirit which ought to
have animated us, beat them off.
While I was hidden at Castle Bromwich, a gentleman sent

17th,

ize Riots in Birmingham.

241

up his compliments and requested admission. We appeared
personal strangers. He expressed a sorrow for my misfortunes,
and observed, in the course of our conversation, "that as I
was obliged to leave home abruptly, and had uncertainty before
me, perhaps I was not supplied with a sufficiency of cash; that
he was returning from a journey, and had not much left, but
that what he and his servant had was at my service, and tomorrow he would send him with whatever sum I should name."
Surprised at so singular a kindness, which I could neither merit
nor expect, I requested the name of the person to whom I was
indebted for so benevolent an act. He replied, "John Finch,
banker, of Dudley." Those generous traits of character fictitiously ascribed to heroes of romance were realized in this
gentleman. With sorrow I read in the public papers, in December following, the death of this worthy man, whom I never
saw before or after. I could not refrain from going to take a
view of my house at Bennet's Hill, above three miles distant
from Castle Bromwich. Upon Washwood Heath I met four
waggons, loaded with Lady Carhampton's furniture, attended
by a body of rioters, with their usual arms, as protectors. I
passed through the midst of them, was known, and insulted,
but kept a sullen silence. The stupid dunces vociferated,
"No popery ! Down with the pope !" forgetting that Presbyterians were never remarkable for favouring the religion of that
potentate. In this instance, however, they were ignorantly
right; for I consider myself a true friend to the Roman Catholic,
and to every peaceable profession, but not to the spiritual power
of any; for this, instead of humanizing the mind, and drawing
the affections of one man towards another, has bound the world
in fetters, and set at variance those who were friends.
I saw the ruins yet burning of that once-happy spot, which
had for many years been my calm retreat-the scene of contemplation, of domestic felicity-the source of health and contentment. Here I had consulted the dead, and attempted to
amuse the living. Here I had exchanged the world for my
little family.
Perhaps fifty people were enjoying themselves upon those
ruins where I had possessed an exclusive right, but I was now
viewed as an intruder. The prejudiced vulgar, who never inquire into causes and effects, or the true state of things, fix the
idea of criminality upon the man who is borne down by the
crowd, and every foot is elevated to kick him. My premises,

242

A Narrativeof

laid open by ferocious authority, were free to every trespasser,
and I was the only person who did not rejoice in the ruins. It
was not possible to retreat from that favourite place without a
gloom upon the mind, which was the result of ill-treatment by
power without right. This excited a contempt of the world.
Returning to Castle Bromwich, the same rioters were at the
door of the inn, and I durst not enter. Thus the man who, for
misconduct, merited the halter, could face the world; and I,
who had not offended, was obliged to skulk behind hedges.
Night came on. The inhabitants of the village surrounded me,
and seemed alarmed. They told me it was dangerous to stay
among them, and advised me, for my own safety, to retreat to
Stonnal. Thus I found it as difficult to procure an asylum for
myself as, two days before, I had done for my goods. I was
avoided as a pestilence; the waves of sorrow rolled over me,
and beat me down with multiplied force; every one came
heavier than the last. My children were distressed. My wife,
through long affliction, ready to quit my own arms for those of
death; and I myself reduced to the sad necessity of humbly
begging a draught of water at a cottage ! What a reverse of
situation ! How thin the barriers between affluence and poverty!
By the smiles of the inhabitants of Birmingham I acquired a
fortune; by an astonishing defect in our police I lost it. In
the morning of the
I was a rich man; in the evening I
was ruined. At ten at night on the
I might have been
found leaning on a mile-stone upon Sutton Coldfield, without
food, without home, without money, and, what is the last resort
of the wretched, without hope. What had I done to merit this
severe calamity ? Why did not I stay at home, oppose the
villains at my own door, and sell my life at the dearest rate ?
I could have destroyed several before I had fallen myself.
This may be counted rash; but unmerited distress like mine
could operate but two ways-a man must either sink under it
or become desperate.
While surrounded by the gloom of night, and the still
greater gloom which oppressed the mind, a person seemed to
hover about me who had evidently some design. Whether an
honest man or a knave gave me no concern; for I had
nothing to lose but life, which I esteemed of little value. He
approached nearer with seeming diffidence, "Sir, is not your
name Hutton ?" "Yes."
"I have good news. The light-

15th

17th

the Riots in Birmingkam.

243

horse, some time ago, passed through Sutton, in their way to
Birmingham." As I had been treated with nine falsehoods
for one truth, I asked his authority. He replied, "I saw
them." This arrival I knew would put a period to plunder.
The inhabitants of Birmingham received them with open arms,
with illuminations, and viewed them as their deliverers.
We left the mob towards evening on Sunday the " 7th
returning from King's Norton. They cast a glance upon the
well-stored cellar, and valuable plunder, of Edgbaston Hall,
the residence of Dr. Withering,* who perhaps never heard a
Presbyterian sermon, and yet is as amiable a character as he
who has. Before their work was completed, the words
korse sounded in their ears; when this formidable banditti
mouldered away, no soul knew how, and not a shadow of it
could be found.
Exclusive of the devastations above-mentioned, the rabble
did numberless mischiefs. The lower class among us, long
inured to fire, had now treated themselves with a full regale of
their favourite element. If their teachers are faithful to their
trust, they will present to their idea another powerful flame in

ight-

reversion.

The reader will pardon me if I draw a parallel between the
great Lord Mansfield and myself. He fell by a lawless mob in
1780, and I in 1791. He said in the House of Lords what I,
with sorrow, say out: "I speak and write from memory, for,
alas ! my books are destroyed, never to be replaced."
The self-created law-givers, however (the mob), conferred
upon me a dreadful kindness; they did not crucify me among
thieves, for my fellow-sufferers are men of the most respectable
characters.
As the prosperity of Birmingham depends upon its commerce and the security of the inhabitants, every obstacle raised
against these, acts with multiplied force. It is therefore sound
policy to give encouragement to one, and stability to the
This was Dr. Withering the eminent botanist, and author of
" Medical Botany," "System of Botany," and very many other works. He

was one of the physicians to the general hospital at Birmingham, which
post he held for thirteen years. To him, besides many other important
boons, the profession owes the introduction of digitalis (or foxglove) into
the practice of medicine. His monument, with bust, is in Edgbaston

church.

244

A Narrative of

other. The ten persons, who claim redress for their sufferings,
are masters of nearly a million, sterling, all arising from
the manufactures of the place. This property could not have
been acquired without an honour and improvement to the
town, and a benefit to every inhabitant. Three of the sufferers,
who are merchants, employ more than ten thousand people.
The punishment inflicted on individuals becomes a public
detriment, by injuring the place, and a private one by cutting
off the bread of the laborious class.
Next morning, Monday the i8th, I returned to Birmingham,
to be treated with the sad spectacle of another house in ruins.
Every part of the mutilated building declared that the hand of
violence had been there.
My friends received me with joy; and though they had not
fought for me, they had been assiduous in securing some of my
property; which, I was told, "had paved half the streets in Birmingham."
Seventeen of my friends offered me their own houses;
sixteen of them were of the Established Church, which indicates
that I never was a party man. Our cabinets being rifled,
papers against Government were eagerly sought after; but the
invidious seeker forgot that such papers are not in use among
the Dissenters. Instead, however, of finding treasonable
papers in mine, they found one of my teeth wrapped in
writing paper, and inscribed " This tooth was destroyed by a
tough crust July 12,
after a faithful service of more than
fifty years. I have only thirty-one left." The prize was
proclaimed the former property of a king, and was conducted
the London papers, in which the world was told, "that
the antiquaries had sustained an irreparable injury; for one of
the sufferers in the late riots had lost a tooth of Richard the
Third, found in Bosworth Field, and valued at 300ool."
Some of the rioters absconded. A thousand might have
been taken' if taking had been the fashion, but the taker
had every obstacle to encounter. As their crimes glared
in the strong light of the sun, or rather the fire, the actors
were generally known, and the proofs full. Fifteen were
committed. Their trials were a mere farce, a joke upon
justice and truly laughable. It is a common remark, that "a
man will catch at a twig to save his life ;" but here the culprit
had no need to seek for a twig, he might be saved by a straw,
a thread, or even by the string of a spider. Every assistance

1775,

into

the Riots in Birmingham.

245

was thrown out, and every one was able to bring a rioter out
of danger.
The Solicitor of the Treasury was sent from London to
conduct the trials of the rioters. He treated me with civility,
and said, " If Mr. Ryland and I would go to his lodgings at
Warwick next Sunday morning at ten, he would show us a
list of the jury, and we should select twelve names to our
satisfaction." I thanked him, and took the journey accordingly. Upon perusing the list, I was surprised to find they
had but ONE sentiment. I returned the paper with an
air of disappointment. " They are all of a sort," said I,
" you may take which you please." At that moment John
Brooke, the true blue Church and King's man, and the
attorney employed against the sufferers, entered, and as silently
as if he had listened behind the door. He had, no doubt,
fabricated the list. We instantly retreated.
Rice's case has been mentioned. Another was saved,
because he went to serve the sufferer. Whenever the offender
procured a character, and one may be picked up in every
street,-he was sure to be safe. The common crier rang his
bell while Mr. Ryland's house was in flames, to call on the
mob; but at the trial "he did it to call them off." Another
was charged with "pulling down and destroying," but as the
house was afterwards burnt, it was wisely inferred "he could
neither pull down nor destroy that which was burnt."
It was proved against Hands, "that he tore up Mr.
Ryland's floor and burnt it;" but he got clear by another
attesting that there was no floor. Careless stole the pigs,
which every one believed, but he was acquitted by his sister
swearing that "he drove them out to save them." Watkins
escaped, because the evidence could not tell the number of
the rioters. Four witnesses, perfectly clear and consistent,
accused Whitehead, but he was acquitted by the evidence of
one only, James Mould, who denied all they had said, and
observed, "that Whitehead did all he could to save my
property." The real fact was, I hired Mould, with nine others,
to guard my house at Bennet's Hill, on Friday night. When
the riots were over, he was the man who informed against
Whitehead as a ringleader, described his person, name, trade,
and place of abode; consequently was the sole cause of his
being taken. If,
however, he swore him into danger, he was
allowed to swear him out. How the Court looked, and how the

246

A Narrative.of

jury felt when facts were set aside, and oaths ard characters
took their place, I leave to those who were present to decide.*
To acquit the guilty, is declaring him innocent in the face of
the world, and is injurious to society. If the law takes its
course, and there be found room for mercy, let it flow from its
proper fountain, the crown. By the false lenity of the court
villainy became triumphant. Some of the sufferers' witnesses
were injured in their property, others personally abused, and
others threatened with death. Nay even the sufferers themselves were daily in'sulted in the streets. Nor did the behaviour
of the insurgents end here; every master who offended his
servant, in reality offended his master and endangered his
house.
Thus order is inverted, we are making large strides towards
anarchy, and are perfectly ripe for another tumult. As the
fishes cannot live out of their element, so no class of men can
act with propriety out of their sphere.
Three criminals were executed; Cook for destroying the
house of Mr. Russell ; Field for that of Mr. Taylor; and. Green
for Dr. Priestley's. Mr. Russell would have solicited a pardon
for Cook, but found his character so notoriously bad, that
there was no ground for his plea. Those of Field and Green
are better known to others than myself; they were represented
as infernals let loose among men. The world will be apt to
draw this conclusion, None were executed for the riots.
The laws of England carry the same level hand to every description of men; a local agreement subsists between the whole
body of laws and every individual: they demand obedience, and
hetrotection. This agreement cannot be broken without some
mismanagement. As by the late convulsions in Birmingham,
every man was put in fear, many were plundered, some burnt,
some ruined, others obliged to fly, two lost their lives, and all
this without one breach of the law-this question naturally
arises, Is ourpolice upon a respectable
footing ?
Although the public are in possession of the toasts drunk at
the hotel, I shall subjoin them, that the people both in and
out of Sutton may judge how far they were shameful. The
company, out of respect to monarchy, had procured from an
* A gentleman, soon after this, hunting with Mr. Corbett's fox-hounds,
was so sure of killing the fox, that he cried, "Nothing but a Birmingham
jy can save him '"

the Riots in Birmingkam.

247

ingenious artist three figures, which were placed upon the table.
One, a fine medallion of the king, encircled with glory, on his
right an emblematical figure, representing British Liberty ; on
the left, another representing Gallic Slavery breaking its chains.
These innocent and loyal devices were ruinous; for a spy,
whom I well know, was sent into the room, and assured the
people without, " that the Revolutionists had cut off the king's
head, and placed it on the table." Thus a man with a keen
belief, like one with a keen appetite, is able to swallow the
grossest absurdities.
I. The King and Constitution.
2. The National Assembly and Patriots of France, whose
virtue and wisdom have raised twenty-six millions from the
meanest condition of despotism, to the dignity and happiness
of freemen.
3. The Majesty of the People.
4. May the Constitution of France be rendered perfect and
perpetual.
5. May Great Britain, France, and Ireland unite in perpetual friendship; and may their only rivalship be the extension of peace and liberty, wisdom and virtue.
6. The rights of man. May all nations have the wisdom to
understand, and courage to assert and defend them.
7. The true friends of the Constitution of this country, who
wish to preserve its spirit by correcting its abuses.
8. May the people of England never cease to remonstrate
till their parliament becomes a true national representation.
9. The Prince of Wales.
o10.
The United States of America; may they for ever enjoy
the liberty which they so honourably acquired.
I i. May the revolution in Poland prove the harbinger of a
more perfect system of liberty extending to that great kingdom.
12. May the nations of Europe become so enlightened as
never more to be deluded into savage wars by the ambition of
their rulers.
13. May the sword never be unsheathed but for the defence
and liberty of our country; and then, may every one cast away
the scabbard till the people are safe and free.
14. To the glorious memory of Hampden, Sidney, and other
heroes of all ages and nations, who have fought and bled for
liberty.

248

A Narrativeof

I5. To the memory of Dr. Price," and all those illustrious
sages who have enlightened mankind in the true principles of
civil society.
i6. Peace and goodwill to all mankind.
I7. Prosperity to the town of Birmingham.
18. A happy meeting to the friends of liberty on the 14 th of
July, 1792.

The sum total of the above toasts amounts to this, a solicitude for the perfect freedom of man, arising from a love to the
species. If I were required to explain the words freedom and
liberty in their full extent, I should answer in these simple
words, that each individual think and act as he please, provided
no other is inzjured.
The military and security arriving, the runaway sufferers returning, and every man in this land of liberty having the free
use of his tongue and judgment, it was curious to observe the
difference of sentiment. The Dissenters, perhaps to a man,
were deeply affected with the melancholy event, as breaking
that harmony which had never been disturbed since the fiery
days of Sacheverell. The members of the Establishment were
divided into three classes. The first lamented the treatment
offered to their neighbours, assisted them in distress, wished a
reparation of their loss, and a re-establishment of harmony.
These are the mild, the peaceable, and the real members of
the Church of England. I am willing to hope they are the
most numerous, although the most silent. The next class
looked on with indifference while our houses were in flames,
were rather pleased with the novelty, and laughed at us when
the scene was over. The third, at the head of whom stood the
bigoted part of the clergy, thought our sufferings too mild,
called them in the pulpit "wholesome correction," and wished
the same tragedy acted again. These have but two fears; one,
lest church preferment should not fall into their hands, and the
other, the fear of death; for then the words of our Saviour may
* Dr. Richard Price was a distinguished
dissenting minister, and a
clever mathematician. He was born in Glamorganshire in 1723-the
same year in which his friend William Hutton was born-and, having
been educated for the ministry, became pastor of a congregation at
Hackney. He died in 1791. Dr. Price was author of several works on
Political Economy, Civil Liberty and the National Debt being among the
most important, and kindred subjects&

tIke Riots in Birmingham.

249

be fulfilled, "With whatever measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."
If I were asked the difference between a bigoted and a
Tmoderate clergyman, I should explain both in two instances.
The Sunday subsequent to the riots, a sermon was preached in
one of our churches from the words of St. Paul, " Let every
soul be obedient to the higher powers." Here those absurd
doctrines of the Stuarts, passive obedience and non-resistance,
flamed as warmly as our buildings had done a few days before.
Scarcely having a coat to my back, it could not be expected I
should attend this sermon. But a constant hearer declared
" that he went to church with a happy disposition to improve
by social worship, but had he followed the dictates of the
preacher he must have come back a ruffian."
In the evening another clergyman took the pulpit, and
harangued from the words of the same apostle, " Let your
moderation be known unto all men."
And now the fatal
doctrines of the morning were hoisted overboard, and in their
stead was placed that mild and Christian temper which ought
to adorn every hearer, and be cultivated in every pulpit.
The A lication to two Sermons.
Thus the good priest, to make men wise,
Employs his talents and his hours ;
While sycophants, who wish to rise,

Fawn, spaniel-like, on higher powers.

We have now taken a concise view of the rise and progress
of a species of punishment inflicted on innocence, which would
have been insufferable for the greatest enormities; and with a
tear I record the sorrowful thought that there appeared afterwards no more repentance on one side than there had been
faults on the other.
End of the narrative of the riots of July,
Written in August that year.

179 .

NOTE.-The editor* has taken the liberty of inserting in this
edition the following letters of Dr. Priestley and Robert Bage,
on the subject of the riots, the one being a faithful transcript
of the Doctor's sentiments, and the others a specimen of the
friendship and elegance of the writer.
* Of the second edition, Catherine Hatton,

250

A Narrativeof
Letter from Dr.Priestley to William Hitton.
Clapton, July 7th,

-792.

DEAR SIR,-I thank you for the great pleasure I have had

in reading your excellent "Account of the Riots in Birmingham." Though written while the dismal scene in which you
were so great and undeserved a sufferer was recent, you preserve the same cheerful and benevolent spirit that distinguishes
everything you have written, and even that pleasant humour
that always delights me in your works. I think it cannot fail
to do good with those who are capable of reading with candour,
and some I hope there are of that class in all places, Birmingham itself not excepted.
You will, however, excuse a few remarks
First, you are too complimentary to myself.
Second, you are candid, I think, to an excess, and seem to
consider all religions as alike, which will make many persons
imagine you are an unbeliever. Two opposite systems cannot
both be true ; and whatever any man deem to be important
truths he must wish that others would embrace. Hence you
should not condemn the spirit of proselytism. You cannot,
indeed, do it without condemning the conduct of the apostles,
and reformers in all ages.
If you think there is anything worth your notice in this remark, you will shorten one part of your work, which I think
will well bear it.
I often speak of your case as the hardest of any of the sufferers. There was an ostensible and plausible reason for attacking me, but you had done nothing amiss.
Every trial, however, in which we behave as we ought, will be
of use both to ourselves and others. By the help of my friends
I have once more furnished my laboratory, and am beginning
to work again. If it be a second time demolished I shall not
make a third attempt.
With my best respects to your son and daughter, I am,
Dear sir, yours sincerely,

J.

PRIESTLEY.

Letters from Robert Bage to William Hutton.
LETTER I.
Elford, July 25th, 1791.

Mrs. and Miss Hutton are not well. I cannot promise better
health here, but I can a hearty welcome and friendly sympathy,

the Riots in Birmingham.

25I

In this- country it is
better to be a Churchman, with just as
much common sense as heaven has been pleased to give on an
average to Esquimaux, than a Dissenter with the understanding
of a Priestley or a Locke. I hope, dear Will, experience will
teach thee this great truth, and convey thee to peace and orthodoxy, pudding and stupidity.
Since the riots, in every company I have had the misfortune
to go into, my ears have been insulted with the bigotry of fifty
years back-with " Damn the Presbyterians !" with " Church
and king, huzza i" and with true passive obedience and nonresistance ; and may my house be burnt too if I am not become
as sick of my species, and as desirous of keeping out of its way,
as ever was hermit !
I have already asked for thy bill at Tamworth; but Rice
being out, I could not get it. I will discharge it the first time
I go.
Not a word of Mrs. or Miss Hutton. I wish thou wert a
true Catholic, and the penance for thy sins were to write to me
every post till I was satisfied. I would then know precisely
the state of all your bodies and all your minds.
I am questioned at Tamworth about my friend Hutton. Is
he well? Is he in spirits? Has he any apprehensions of
renewed violence ? Finally, does he write the History of St.
Albans, or is that book gone to wreck ?
LETTER II.
Elford, July 25, 1792.

Thank thee for thy family intelligence. I love ye all,
Presbyterians as ye are.
Thou saidst something in thy last about authorship, which
makes me suspect thou hast heard a rumour of my publishing
lately. I have taken great pains, and sunk money to Lane in
the price, not to be known any more as a novel writer ;-the
title of my last I even concealed from my sons, and yet the
report goes strongly that " Man as he Is " is mine.
What character it will have I know not; but if thou hearest
anything said of it in Birmingham-if good, let me know; if
bad, keep it to thyself. I can digest flattery, but hate reproof.
LETTER

III.
Elford, Jan. 24,

1793.

In Dr. Priestley's late publication he makes just and
honourable mention of thee, in which particular, if I live to

252

Life of William Hutton.

publish again, I hope to imitate him. I am pleased to see the
good Doctor in print on any subject except theology; but at
present nothing from him will be attended to. No man's ear
is open to anything but " Damn the French," and "Damn the
Presbyterians." I abstain from all society, because respect for
my moral principles is scarcely sufficient to preserve me from
insult on account of my political.

Thine,

R. BAGE.

Dr. Langford, in his " Century of Birmingham Life," published in
of the disgraceful riots, by which it will have been
seen William Hutton suffered so much, and from the effects of which the
life of his much loved wife was shortened, and by which Dr. Priestley was
ruined, thus concludes :-" Birmingham has since repented of these days
of bigotry and violence. It still remains, however, for us to prove that
repentance by the only way now in our power-by providing a permanent
memorial of the noblest and most richly endowed of the victims of that
shameful outbreak of fanaticism and ignorance-a monument in honour of
the memory of Dr. Priestley." This suggestion is now, at the time I
write, to the honour of Birmingham, being carried out. In 1871 a
movement for the purpose was inaugurated at a meeting, held under the
presidency of Mr. S. Timmins, and in December of that year it was
determined to erect a statue in some public part of Birmingham to Dr.
Priestley, at a cost of 1200oo1. to put up a commemorative tablet to mark
;
the site of Priestley's house ; and to found, if funds permit, scientific
exhibitions or scholarships. This proposition was, on the motion of Mr.
William Hutton, the descendant and representative of the historian,
seconded by Dr. Langford, unanimously resolved upon, and is now being
carried out. Previous to this decision being arrived at, I addressed a
letter, of which the following is a copy, to the Birmingham Morning
News, and I have reason to hope that the hint it contains will ultimately
be acted upon, and that Birmingham will next honour the man who has
conferred so much, and such lasting, honour upon it.
**,

1868, when speaking

THE PRIESTLEY MEMORIAL.

.
To the Editor of the Morning News.
MY DEAR SIR,-I have been extremely pleased this morning to see,
by your impression of the 17th, that Birmingham is about to do itself
honour by honouring the memory of one of its most gifted townsmen, Dr.
Priestley. I am sure that every admirer of that great man, and every lover
of science, will learn with true pleasure that something worthy of the
memory of the true philosopher is about to be done by the town which owes
him so much. Of all things, Mr. Editor, whatever shape the rest of the
memorial may take, do let us see a statue of Priestley placed in some
public and conspicuous part of the town. It is a statue which will best
call him to people's minds, and it is a statue which strangers who make a
pilgrimage to Birmingham to see and learn something of Priestley, will
first look for, and which will most delight and satisfy them.
But, Mr. Editor, while thus honouring one of the brilliant men who
have honoured Birmingham by their talents and by their close identi-

fication with th8 town, let us remember that there is one other man

Life of William Huton.

2

53

1791 continued.
Having now no place of abode, I attempted to hire a house
at Ashsted, which lies between my two former habitations;
but Brooke, who was the proprietor, refused to let it to me:
whether from the fear lest he should not be able to protect his
own house from the violence of his own party, if occupied by a
Dissenter, I know not; but I believe it. After several other
fruitless applications, Richards, the master of Vauxhall tavern
and bowling-green, consented to lodge and board my family at
the hazard of his own property. We stayed there till Christmas, and found the utmost civility.
The cruel treatment I had met with totally altered my sentiments of man. I had considered him as designed to assist and
comfort his species, to reduce the rough propensities of his
nature, and to endeavour after perfection, though he could not
reach it. But the return I met with for having sacrificed nearly
two days a week of my time, and no small portion of my talents,
to the gratuitous service of the public during nineteen years,
convinced me that the nature of the human species, like that of
the brute creation, is to destroy each other.
These events occasioned the disorder of Mrs. Hutton to
make rapid strides. We were alarmed, and determined to
take her to the Hot Wells near Bristol. My daughter accomto whom the town is at least equally indebted, and to whom as yet no
memorial whatever exists. I allude to its historian, William Hutton.
Mr. Alderman Ryland, in his excellent speech, as reported in the
News, very pleasantly speaks of the desire which Thackeray evinced,
to find in Birmingham something in bricks and mortar as a memorial of
Priestley. I can attest to the fact of more than one special visit being
made to Birmingham by men of high attainments, to look for any public
record or memorial of William Hutton, with equally ill success. Not a
statue, not a bust, not even a picture of the historian is to be found in any
public place in the town; and this, I must say, is a neglect unworthy the
public spirit and the good feeling of the men of Birmingham.
While cordially approving of the memorial to Priestley, and while
earnestly trusting that the project may be carried out in the most full and
liberal manner, do, Mr. Editor, through your influential columns, permit
me to suggest to the men of Birmingham the desirability of erecting a
statue to the memory of his friend and fellow-sufferer, William Hutton, the
historian of their town.
I firmly believe that such a project has only to be suggested to be at

once acted upon by the enlightened inhabitants of the most enlightened and
prosperous of our English towns.
,Apologizing for thus trespassing on your space, I am, yours most truly,
LLEWELLYNN JEWITT.

Winster Hall.

254

Life of William Hutton.

panied her in the carriage, and this was the first journey in
which my attendance was omitted, owing to the confused state
of my affairs.
Two months prior to the riots, I had published the History
of Derby, price seven shillings.
1792.

The sufferers at the riots were numerous, and their situations
various. The attack was so sudden, and the case so uncommon,
that they were as little acquainted with the mode of proceeding
to obtain restitution, as with the Act of Parliament by which
they were to be guided. Every sufferer had endeavoured to
save all the property he was able, but this proved the worst
method he could have pursued. We supposed the reimbursement was to equal the loss; but the act, originally intended to
cover all, might be restricted to what was destroyed within the
building, and what the rioters took out. Large quantities of
property removed by the owners, and afterwards found and
destroyed by the mob, were lost. A poor reward for activity
and expense ! Some of the sufferers understanding this, declined a suit; and others declined it from the cost of suing.
There is a latitude in the determination of a jury, to take in
the whole damage, or narrow it to a part. In the riots of 1780,
the country being favourable to the sufferers, the jury repaired
the whole of their losses.
One evil draws many after it. It was inconceivable what
anxiety and labour we underwent in preparing for the trial to
recover our lost property. Every obstacle of human invention
was thrown in our way.
Another evidence of the savage
temper of man. I was induced to wish I had given up my
claim, and lost all.
At the trials every insult and depression were offered
to the sufferers that the genius of an enemy could invent.
The two judges, Baron Thompson and the Lord Chief Baron
Eyre, were shocked at the foul treatment; and the latter
remarked that" he had never during his whole life, seen so
much rancour and ill-blood."
My share only of the trial cost me 884/.
The
9 d.
verdict for some of the sufferers did not cover the expense.
After the loss it was more than two years before we were paid
even the small sum the jury chose to allot us. And I am of
opinion we never should have had that, but for the vigilance of
Lord Aylesford, who seemed determined the Hundred should

15s.

Life of William

Hutton.

255

not labour under so foul a stigma of fraud. I shall give the
claim of every sufferer, and the amount of the verdict.
My son's claim, being trifling, was allowed without any deduction; which was so contrary to the feelings of the jury, that one
of them was heard to say to the foreman, after they had returned
into court, " We must go out again; you have made a mistake ;
you have given the whole of the claim !"
NAME.

CLAIM.

John Taylor, Esq.
Thomas Russel, Esq.
William Piddock
John Harwood . . .
Thomas Hawkes
. .

.

.

304

-----

.

Cox .

.

..

Parsonage House
St. Dollax
.

.

. /12,670

9

2

285

II

7

556
143

15
12

7
6

.

William Russel, Esq..
John Ryland, Esq. .
Old Meeting . . . .
Geo. Humphreys, Esq.
Dr. Priestley
. . .

3 8

7
336 13
S 267 14 II
S 198 8 9

1
971

ALLOWED.
... £9902 2 o
... 16o 0 0
... 300 0 0
..
,
6o 0 o
...
90 15 8
...
254 o o
0
... 200 0
...
139 17 6

8 6 ... 16oo 0

0

8

4

•
.

2495

6

1983 19
S 2152 13

3
I

...

1390

...

1855

S 3628

8

9

...

250218

0

Thos. Hutton (my son)

S 619

2

2

Wm. Hutton (myself) .

S 6736

3

8

... 619 2
5390 17
...

2
o

£35,095

I3

2

3

S 3240
.

6

£26,96I

11

7
11

5
o

The loss of some of the sufferers, particularly of Mr. Taylor,
Dr. Priestley, and myself, was considerably more than the
claim. The real loss of Mr. Taylor amounted to upwards of
22,6oo00.; that of Dr. Priestley to upwards of 45001.; and
my own to 82431. 3s. 2.,
exclusive of the loss I sustained

by the interruption of my business, owing to my stock in trade
being chiefly demolished.
The sum allowed was paid with as much reluctance as if
the sufferers had destroyed their own property.
As the benign beams of the sun create a number of irksome
flies, so success raised up the enmity of a brother. I being
depressed, he tried every method to ruin me. Among others
he hired an engraver, who had cheated me of ten pounds,
which was enough to make kim my enemy, to exhibit me in a
caricature, to excite the ridicule of the mob.
Another misfortune, but much less, attended me. One of
my coach-horses was stolen, and heard of no more, the other
lamed, which broke up my team. It was three months before
I could refit, and then with an unsuitable pair at 75 guineas.
Every man has his favourite pursuits but as his life changes

Life of Williamn Hutton.

256

his amusement changes. From the rattle, the foundation of
pleasure, he rises to a ball, marbles, dress, the fair sex, horses,
excursions, drinking, cards, accumulating property, and at last
finishes with disease and with prayers.
The predominant features of my life have been-music, from
nineteen to twenty-four; writing poetry, from twenty-four to
twenty-nine; reading to fifty-six; writing history to sixty-nine;
and from thence to seventy-five, July 24, 1798, the present day,
poetry again, nor is the vein exhausted.
During my juvenile days of verse I composed a volume of
poems, in quarto. Many of them crept into the magazines
and other periodical papers. My volume afterwards, I believe,
was never opened for twenty years, nor did I write a poem
during forty. But this collection being destroyed at the riots,
opened a spring which had been dried up during that long
period. This year I endeavoured to bring to remembrance all
I could recollect, asI knew both.
Dr. Higgs and Parson Bromwich
My own.
.
........
Genealogy
The Poetical Club.
....
Published.
To a Lady with a Pocket-book
Ditto.
.......
Ditto.
The Frowning Beauty
A Rebus.
To a Friend going into the Ministry

.

.

Ditto.

After forty years the muse awoke, and I this year (1792)
producedThe Chasm.
Oct. 30. A Friendly Epistle to E. B.
Nov. i2. The State of Religion in Birmingham.
The Government of Birmingham.
,,
Dec. 20. To the Corpulent Councillor Willis.

18.

1793.

My dear wife grew worse, owing to the prevalence of the
disorder, the want of exercise, and the frowns of the world.
A misfortune attended me which afflicted me one whole year,
deprived me of usefulness, caused much pain and expense. A
lady wishing to see the house I was erecting, trod upon the
laths of the false floor, which, giving way, my endeavours to
save her forced me down a stair, which, having no tread, I
fell through the carriage with her upon me, and lay suspended
by the leg against the sharp edge of the timber. After being
taken up, I found the leg was not broken, but the flesh was

Lz./e of William Hutton.

257

crushed beyond recovery, came out, and left a vacancy that
would have admitted the bole of a tobacco pipe. Instead of
nursing my dear wife, I required a nurse myself.
In September the money was paid by the Hundred. A part
of this, I was resolved should never enter the trade again, but
should immediately be laid out in land. And it soon appeared,
through the decline of trade, it would have been ill-employed.
Sept. 5, my son married Mary Reynolds, of Shiffnal ;*
and as I ever thought it the duty of a father to bring forward
and aid his son, at Christmas I gave him the trade, and somewhere between [
] and [
] thousand pounds, reserving the estates for my own use.
As I had spent a long life in activity, and had observed
many, who, having declined business, seemed half lost, and
had pined away with inaction, I chose to assist my son gratis,
which he as gladly accepted as I offered.
This year I amused myself with [writing verses, and produced twenty-six poems, several of which have been published.]
Feb.

6.

The Captains.
J. B.
March io. The Magistrates.
Birmingham Justice.
20.
,,
1, I4.

April

14.

The Farewell.

,,
May
,,
June

4.
9.
31.
9.

The Barbers-published, one shilling.
Edgar and Elfrida-ditto, one shilling.
Equality.
Lord Chesterfield and the Farmer's Wife.

,,

i.

,,

13.

Lord Chesterfield and the Tinker.

Epitaph upon a favourite little Dog.
July

12.

,,

i6.
x5.

Oct.
July
Aug.
,,
,,

The Sermon.
The Ant.
To Miss P-----.

16.
4.

The attentive Shepherd.
King Edgar and the Servant Girl.
The Professional Man-published.
The Gloomy Day.

T

The Poetical Angler.

2.

7.

* Thomas Hutton was his only surviving ion.
" He married, September
the 5th, 1793, Mary Reynolds, of Shiffnal, in the county of Salop, by whom
he has no issue." He died in August, 1845, in the 9oth year of his age.
S

2 58
-

Life of William Hutton.
Sept.
,,
,,
,,
Oct.
,,

Dec.

r.

ii.
I5.

Plato's Grand Year-published.
The Enlightened Priest.
The State of the Poets.
The Changeling.
The Sigh.
Invocation.

2 rI

The Pleasures of Matrimony-First part.

I2.

14.
25.

1794.

The continuance of the wound in my leg brought a humour,
which settled from the knee to the foot, and seemed to baffle
the skill of the surgeon. I was unwilling to undergo a course
of physic lest it should injure the constitution, therefore tried
Lady-Well Bath, which in two months effects a cure.
My dear wife was in extreme pain; choked up, she could
not breathe, she wished to be released.
There is a degree of
pain to which death is preferable. She felt that degree. We
thought her under the operations of death, and the physician
told us, March 8th, that he believed she could not continue
forty-eight hours. He was right in his conjecture, though the
event did not take place, for there seemed a momentary change
which instantly relieved her, to our great joy, and she continued
nearly two years. [At the expiration of that time she appeared to
be in the convulsions of death, and was every moment expected
to breathe her last, when the door of her chamber was forced
open by the wind. The noise roused her, and she gradually
recovered, so that she lived nearly two years after, though in a
state of great suffering, being unable to bear her own weight or
lift up her hand; and what was much worse, unable to lie
down.]
April 24.
The day was fine.
We carried her into the
garden of the new house. She seemed to be entertained, and
"wished she might not return" [to the cottage]. We took the
hint, instantly set about a removal, and accomplished it that
afternoon.
The poetical productions this year were [eighteen].
Jan.

,,

Feb,

ri.

The Pleasures of Matrimony-The second
part, or Kitty.
Miss Betsy.

21 .

Dear Sally.

26.

The Tobacconist.

Life of William Hutton.
March 26.

The
The
The
The
The

259

Milkman-from the Court of Requests.
Contrast.
Comparison.
Head of two Parties.
Wig.

April
,,

8.

June

o10. John Bolders.

July
,,

4.

The Coach Horses.
The Saving Rector.
The Parson in Pickle.
The Cobbler.

Sept.

24.
24.
24.

Oct.

12.

Wages.

Nov.
Nov.

I5.

The Silent Priest.
A Sermon on the Head-dress of the Ladies.

,,
Aug.

16.

A, B, C.

1795.

If the body is unemployed it becomes the nursery of disease.
If the mind is unemployed a languor commences, and the man
becomes a burthen to himself. Both were designed for action.
As I had done with public concerns, which engrossed much of
my time and more of my thoughts, I was reduced to a narrower
circle; something therefore must supply the place. Walking
and assisting my son, employed the body; study and writing,
the mind.
I went into Herefordshire in consequence of an
Oct. I.
estate being advertised for sale, which would probably suit me.
I rose early and walked to Tenbury, thirty-eight miles. This
my friends considered was too large a step, but I considered
that as Providence had favoured me with limbs, it was but
gratitude to use them. These are human tools, which, like
files, may be worn out by hard labour; or, like them, may lie
by till they become useless with rust.
Here within five miles of the estate I might learn some particulars concerning the land, the title, the seller, and the
tenant; for though common fame is the greatest liar we know,
yet, when uninterested, she will often tell truth.
I told the tenant his rent was low, his lease long, sixteei
years, twice the time I should live, therefore I could not enjoy
any benefit from the purchase ; and, as much was necessary to
improve the place, "If I am at these expenses will you give an
advanced rent ?" "I will." I immediately applied to the
vendor, and purchased it for 3800., 14001. of which I borrowed
S2

Life of William Hutton.

260

of the bank. Upon a second application to the tenant he declined all farther treaty, and I was left to submit to a low
interest.
During this year my dear love was extremely ill. Not a
moment's comfort through the whole. All the time I could
spare was devoted to her assistance, and all, we both thought,
too little. It was now she uttered that endearing expression
mentioned in 1755, which I can scarcely think upon without
tears.
The amusements of a restless pen were [this year eleven
poems].
Feb. i i.
April I9.

The Jackdaw.
The Jealous Head.

The End of the War.
Feb. I9.

The Happy Family.

May io.

On Sam Butler's Picture.

I9.
,,
June 2.

The Wager.
The Wish.

July 17.
Sept. 8.

The Virtues of Election Ale.
The Double Wedding.

,,

14.

Mutation.

Dec.
,,

1o.

To Health.
Law.

1796.
My practice had long been to rise about five, relieve the
sitter-up, by holding the head of my dear love in my hand with
the elbow resting on the knee, which she was unable to hold
herself. At eight I retreated to Birmingham to business, stayed
till four, I returned to tea, nursed her till eight, and then to
rest.
Jan. 23rd. I had left her at ten as usual with the waker
and my daughter. Had slept two hours. The sitter-up called
me gently. I awoke in surprise. "Don't be frightened." " Is
She had departed half an hour past
she gone ?" "Yes."
eleven.
I arose. My dear treasure, whom they were beginning to
undress, was laid upon the carpet. The scene is affecting.
Grief stops the pen. [I am undergoing a second death. I can
stop the pen, but not the tear.]
There were but three women in the world who loved me.
My sister, wife, and daughter. I have lost two. How rarely

Life of William Hutton.

261I

do we find a pure affection which springs from the heart, and
not only flows pure, but increases with time.
My daughter, whose affection and sorrow were equal to mine,
lost her health with her mother. They had been close and
intimate friends. This alarmed us both, For her recovery we
took a journey in July to Barmouth in Wales, which in a small
degree answered the purpose.
It is impossible not to be
amused with the wonders of that singular and delightful place.
The excursion, with all its beauties, was but melancholy: we
had lost a dear companion who was always one of the party.
Favoured with a memory beyond most men, I procured a
book in quarto, divided, by ruling it into 365 columns, according to the days of the year, with month and day to each;
and endeavoured to recollect an anecdote, as insignificant and
remote as I was able, for every day, rejecting all under ten
years old. I began March 9, 1796. When eight months were
elapsed, Nov. 9, I had covered all the columns except twentyone days.
I then gave up the pursuit, leaving the rest to
chance. I afterwards recollected eleven more, and there now
remains in this unique book ten columns open.
Unhappy if my time was not filled up, and unwilling to do
mischief, the year brought forth the following pieces [nineteen
poems].
Jan.

I9.

Feb.

3.

March 29.

April
,,

i.
24.

May
June
,,

o.
4.

Io.

Reconciliation.

Advice to a Young Shopkeeper.
Fresh Veal.

To Miss Hutton, in London.
The Parish Wedding.

Long Breeches. A Parody.
The Mug.
The True Lover's Knot, or the Triumphant
Wife.

,,

22.

The Pen.

Aug.
Sept.

io.
9.

The Retort.
Eglwys Wrw.

Oct.
,,

23.

Nov.

I5.

4.

Dec.

8.

,,

25.

,,

Receipt to make a Methodist.
Directions to the Low Bailiff.

Richard Porter's Epitaph.
The Comparison.
Friendship.
A Tour to Scotland.

To Thomas Hassell.

262

Life of William Hutton.
1797.

Just in proportion as we love an object we lament its loss.
My poor daughter lost her health when she lost her mother.
Time, the remover as well as the bringer of evils, had not
removed hers. She daily declined, which alarmed us. [This
added to a cold caught by keeping on wet clothes, brought her
into an alarming state. She had been six weeks under the care
of a physician and had been daily growing worse.] This gave
rise to another journey into Wales, contrary to the advice of
every friend. But we considered if she stayed at home death
seemed inevitable; and if she went out, it could not be worse.
might
A bold venture had in 1783 saved my life, perhaps it"
hers.
We fixed upon Caernarvon, and set out Aug. 5, as we had
done the year before, upon the two coach-horses. The servant
took her, and I rode single. She could barely sit upon the
horse. We slept at Wolverhampton. The next day dined
at Shiffnal, where she was obliged to repose three hours upon
the bed.
<° We arrived at the inn at Haygate, [at the foot of the Wrekin,]
eight miles farther, quite exhausted. We found it impossible
to pursue our journey. We applied to Mr. Cartwright, a person
of eminence at Wellington, who seemed to understand her
case, and told her, what she already knew, "that she had been
roughly treated by her physician." A change of air, a pleasant
country at the foot of the Wrekin, and a mind divested of
domestic concerns might have some weight in our favour.*
The people at the inn showed us great civility. Here we
concluded to stay, and see what time would bring forth. I left
her a fortnight. On the 19 th I returned; and we, by easy
journeys, pursued our march with some pleasure [going one
stage a day].
In October I went to conduct her on; she was amazingly
recovered. Thus passing four times through Wales, in various
directions, and at leisure, enabled me to write some remarks,
published in the "Gentleman's Magazine," Nov. 1797, and
which I now transcribe.
I ascended the Wrekin, but the rain drove me back. I repeated
the journey the next day but the cold was intense. As a resolute
* This stoppage at Haygate, Hutton elsewhere observes, gave him what
he had long wished for, an opportunity of visiting the Wrekin.

Life of William Hutton.

263

examiner will not be disappointed by trifles, I ascended the
third day, but the wind was too strong to command my
step.
The prospect is not only extensive but amazingly fine,
for the lands below being rich and level, the observer looks
down upon the beautiful enclosures as upon a map-the map
of nature. Round the summit are the traces of a British
camp, consisting of two trenches and two ramparts, one elevated
thirty or forty yards above the other. Each of them encircles
the crown of the hill, and each admits of but one entrance,
narrow as a gateway, with a small eminence on each side by
way of portal. The lower or outward trench is more than a
mile long, the inner much less.
This spacious camp would accommodate twenty thousand
men, who would find it a cool berth, suited only to a hardy
Briton.
I know of no historical fact that will attach to this camp;
but as it is not certainly known upon what hill in Shropshire
Caractacus, king of Wales, was encamped when forced by
Ostorius, the Roman general, there is great probability of its
being his.
OSWESTRY,

AND

OSWALD

KING OF NORTHUMBERLAND.-

Observing the figure of a man upon a stone pillar on each side a

street, with a sword in his right hand and palm in his left, indicating I suppose, victory and peace-the same figure also represented upon the Town Hall-I was led to inquire his name, and
was answered king Oswald, a famous christian, king, saint, and
martyr, who fell in this place, then called Maserfield.
It appears that Oswald was a mighty benefactor to the
church, and, in return, was canonized by the priests. But if we
strip history of its disguise we shall find him an elevated
plunderer. How else can we account for his quitting his own
dominions to ruin another?
Penda, king of Mercia, of which Maserfield was part, being
a pagan, it was lawful in those wild days of Christianity to
destroy him and his people.
Oswald approached with his army to what is called the
Church-field, then open. About four hundred yards west of
the church is a small hill; here the battle began. The assailant seems to have drove Penda's forces to a close still nearer
the town, called Cae Nef, and about the same distance from the
hill. Here Oswald fell. Penda's people tore the body to

264

Life of William Hutton.

pieces. The remains were interred by a spring about midway
between the hill and Cae Nef, called Oswald's well, and a tree
was planted on the spot; hence the name Oswald's tree, corrupted into Oswestry. A yew now stands upon the same place,
which appears about two hundred years old.
His skull was found in digging the pool just below the well,
about the year I78o. In honour of the quondam saint, his
head is carved upon one of the stones, banded with a royal
fillet ; and, though secured with iron rails, some rude hand has
found means to deprive him of his nose. He fell August i,
642, aged eighty-eight.
OLD OSWESTR.-Remarking to a gentleman that I had
gleaned up some anecdotes relative to Oswald, he asked me if
I had seen Old Oswestry, where he assured me the town
formerly stood? I, with a smile, answered in the negative.
He told me, with a serious face, " that the town had travelled
three quarters of a mile, to the place where it had taken up its
present abode." This belief I found was adopted by all I conversed with. At the above distance west of the town, and two
hundred yards of the traveller's left as he rides to Llangollen,
he will observe a beautiful wood upon a hill. This is dignified
with the name of Old Oswestry.
I could not pass this place without as strict examination as
could be expected from a man of seventy-four, who was to
climb and descend a number of ramparts, each thirty or forty
feet high, while up to the chin in brambles.
The whole is a considerable eminence, steep and nearly
square; had originally but one entrance, and that on the
opposite side to the turnpike-road.
Its ancient name was
Hen Dinas (Old Place); it is evidently a Roman camp, and
in the highest perfection I ever saw one. When the traveller
has passed over four trenches and five mounds, which all
round the fortifications are covered with timber and brushwood,
he will find himself in an area at the crown of the hill, consisting of sixteen acres, where he may literally say, "He is
gone into a wood."
The fortifications that surround him, I
think, cannot be less than forty or fifty acres, exclusive of the
area. The perfection of the works is entirely owing to the
timber upon them.
When I had made my observations, I retreated to the possessor, to collect what traditionary knowledge I was able.
He told me they had found something like a well in one place,

Life of William Hutton.

265

where, he supposed, they had hid their treasure; a pavement
in another, which, he concluded, was to prevent the horses
from injuring the ground; and pieces of iron, which, he supposed, were pieces of armour. That about thirty years ago as
much timber was cut down from the ramparts as sold for
17,0001., which proves them to be extensive; that the proprietor could trace two falls prior to this, which must take up
the compass of perhaps five hundred years; but how many
before these were hid in time.
It is not easy to determine what part of our history this
magnificent work belongs to, but it is a work of immense
labour and ample security. It could not contain a great
number of men, perhaps not more than a thousand; but I
think it would employ five thousand men a whole year to
construct the work. The people must have been stationary, and
their safety consisted more in the strength of the fortifications than in their numbers. There are two or three outposts.
No battle, I apprehend, was fought here. I rather think the
Romans constructed this laborious camp to awe the Welsh.
Owen Glendwr Sycharth (pronounced Sychyer), the name of
a moat, once the residence of the famous Owen Glendwr, the
greatest general Wales ever produced, the scourge of the English, a tormenting thorn to Henry the Fourth, and the ruin of
his country. It must however be confessed that Owen was an
injured person; that he could not procure any redress for his
wrongs but by the sword; and when necessity forces a man
upon rough measures, he is not altogether responsible for the
consequence.
In my tour through Wales I could not refrain interesting
I found the moat, where
myself in this great man's affairs.
his palace stood, seven miles from Llangollen, and three short
of Corwen. It joined the turnpike road till 1796, when the
farmer enclosed a slice of waste land from the road, perhaps
ten yards wide, which places it at the distance. It is surrounded with only one trench, which was deep, for the ground
being elevated above the river Dee, which runs twenty yards
behind it, a deep cut supplied the water from the river, which
became an ample security.
The moat is nearly square, not a quarter of an acre, which
refutes what Owen's bard, Solo Goch, sung, " That his house
was as large as Westminster Hall;" this also Mr. Pennant
might have refuted, had he surveyed the place. Not the least

266

Life of William Hutton.

remains of the buildings are seen. There is a small swell near
the centre, where the house stood.
Here Owen lived in all the splendour of his day till urged
to arms by ill treatment. In the same close, fifty yards nearer
Corwen, is an artificial mount thirty feet high, on which within
memory stood an old oak, prior to that a watch tower, but
now a clump of firs.
Owen -usually attended divine service at Corwen church,
where I was shown a doorway, now made up, through which
he entered to his pew in the chancel. Upon one of the stones
is cut, half an inch deep, the figure of a dagger and my guide
told me, with a face more serious than my own, "That upon
the Berwyn Mountain, behind the church, was a place called
Glendwr's Seat, from which he threw his dagger and made the
If this had happened in
above impression upon the stone."
our day, the whole bench of bishops would have united in
pronouncing him a Jacobin. Exclusive of the improbability of
the tale, my friend forgot that it refutes itself, for the mark of
the dagger is upon the very doorway through which Owen
passed, which probably was not built up in his day.
I climbed the mountain to what is called Owen's Seat,
among the rocks, and concluded he must have been more
agreeably employed than in throwing his dagger, for the prospect is most charming. Here the rich and delightful vale of
Here
Corwen expands to view, with the Dee in the centre.
Owen might view near forty square miles of his own land.
While he lived the life of a little sovereign in his own dominions, a quarrel arose between him and his neighbour, Lord
Grey, of Ruthen Castle, twelve miles distant, now in ruins.
Their lordships were contiguous, but Grey wishing to confine
Owen within the bounds of the Dee, claimed the hills north of
the river, at the back of Owen's house. This unjust seizure
produced a suit-Owen won. But Henry the Fourth acceding
to the crown, favoured the cause of Grey against his antagonist,
and produced that quarrel which lasted many years, sacrificed
a hundred thousand lives, destroyed property, burnt numberless habitations, excited that animosity which is not wholly extinguished, and drenched both nations in blood. Grey was
Grey was
the most powerful in arms, Owen in stratagem.
Owen
backed by the crown, Owen by his faithful Welsh.
expecting a visit from Grey, drove a great number of stakes
into the ground and covered each with a cap and jacket,

Life of William Huitton.

267

which Grey mistaking for an army in battalia, retreated.
Wishing to take Grey in ambush, he caused the shoes of his
horses to be reversed, with the calkins in front, to give the
enemy an idea he was running away, which succeeded; Grey
became his prisoner.
The descendants of Grey were afterwards Dukes of Kent.
The same room is now in being at Machynlleth, low,
gloomy, lined with stone walls, and a mud floor, wherein Owen
held his parliament; and, where he took upon himself, with
the consent of the states, the sovereignty of Wales.
As the power of England was superior to that of Wales,
Owen was crushed, and lived in retirement. Three of his
daughters were married to three Herefordshire gentlemen,
whose descendants are in high life, Croft, Monnington, and
Scudamore. Owen died in 1415, at his daughter Monnington's,
at the age of sixty, and was interred in that churchyard.
I paid a visit to Rung or Reag, the seat of Colonel Salisbury, successor to Owen as Lord Corwen, and saw a dagger,
knife, and fork, all in one sheath, but each in a distinct
apartment, richly ornamented with silver, which Owen usually
carried. The knife and fork are rather slender, the dagger is
about seventeen inches long, twelve of which constitute the
blade, which tapers to a point. At the end of the handle is
his arms, a lion rampant and three flowers-de-luce, curiously
engraved.
The principal part of the handle is inlaid with
black and yellow wood, banded with silver ; and the shield at
the top of the blade a solid piece of the same metal curiously
wrought, but not much larger in circumference than a crown
piece. The knife and fork are obliged to be sheathed first,
which the shield covers, consequently the dagger must be
drawn first.
Two observations occur from these remarks upon Owen
Glendwr-that dreadful consequences may arise from a
sovereign's offending even an individual; for, in this case,
England suffered much, but Wales was so ruined that she has
not recovered herself to this day. And instead of the Welsh
crossing the dyke to murder their neighbours, let them continue
to improve their roads, and the English will enrich them by
their annual visits to' view the wonderful curiosities of that
principality; for there is already, I am told, more thap thirty
thousand a year spent by the English mountain-hunters.
CARACTACUS.-Upon the same turnpike road, towards Llan-

268

Li/e of William Huon.

rwst, ten miles beyond Corwen and three short of Cernioge,
is the pleasant village of Cerig y Druidian, the abode of the
Druids; but nothing belonging to that domineering order of
men is now seen.
Upon the first hill, east of this village, and distant one mile,
is Pen Gweryn, where the antiquary will be pleased with the
small remains of a castle belonging to the celebrated Caractacus
-the residence of a leading man in British history, but neglected by the historian. As a traveller approaches the top of
the hill, which is of easy ascent, he first comes to a trench
about thirty-six feet wide. A small part of the soil having been
thrown up on the outside, constitutes a mound three feet high ;
but the greater part being discharged on the inner side, forms
a rampart about fifteen feet from the bottom of the trench.
This rampart encircles the upper part of the hill, rather of an
oval form, is everywhere visible, in some places nearly perfect,
and encloses six or seven acres.
Ascending sixty or seventy feet more, he next meets with the
foundation of the wall, about six feet thick, which forms the
upper area, running regular with the trench below, and enclosing
four or five acres. From the thickness of the wall, now level
with the ground, we may reasonably conclude it ran twelve or
fourteen feet high. As one part of the area is higher than the
other, it points out the exact spot where the castle stood, nothing of which remains. The whole is a pasture.
The situation is on a considerable hill, but not a mountain;
the prospects extensive, but barren, and its affinity to Cerig y
Druidian proves that the prince and the priests were upon
friendly terms.
We are told that when this great man was routed by the
Romans-whether at Caer Caradoc, Gair Ditches, or the
Wrekin, is uncertain that he retreated to the castle for safety,
but was, with his whole family, betrayed to the enemy by Queen
Cartismunda, sent prisoner to Rome, where he delivered that
famous speech mentioned by all our historians.
DINAS MOUDDY.I was given to understand "that this
place held a considerable eminence in the scale of Welsh towns
-was the property of the ancient family of Milton-that it was
one of the few lordships in Wales that were independent manors,
and exempted from tribute to the prince-that it held a government within itself, consisting of a mayor and aldermen, with all
the magnificent insignia and ornamental trapping of a corpora-

Life of William Hutton.

269

tion." I had observed also its name distinguished with bold
letters in our maps.
I wished to visit this favoured place, but my way did not lie
through it. Being detained, however, at Mallwyd by the rain,
and Dinas Mouddy distant only a mile and a half, I watched
the opportunity of a fair gleam, left the company I had accidentally met at the inn to their wine and their conversation,
and stole a visit to this important place.
Inquiring my way at a cottage, there appeared about half a
dozen young people, who, observing a dress different from their
own, and hearing an English voice-which, perhaps, they never
heard before-treated me with a horse-laugh; a senior reprimanded them.
The situation of Dinas Mouddy is romantic, singular, and
beautiful, upon a small flat made by nature and improved by
art, on the declivity of a mountain prodigiously elevated and
nearly perpendicular, on the left descending to the town, and
on the right continuing the same steep to the river Dovy,
which washes its feet. The road winds round the hill in the
shape of a bow, and the houses take the same curve. It appears to the observer a town suspended upon the side of a
mountain. Curiosity led me to count the houses, which were
forty-five. One of these, by far the best, is worth, at a fair rent,
perhaps fifty shillings per annum. This, I concluded, must be
the parsonage; for who would deny the best to the priest ?
But finding there was no church, I understood this mansion
was dignified with the name of "The Hall." In most of the
houses I perceived the inhabitants could not injure themselves
by falling down stairs.
Although in England I appeared like other men, yet at Dinas
Mouddy I stood single. The people eyed me as a phenomenon,
with countenances mixed with fear and inquiry. Perhaps they
took me for an inspector of taxes; they could not take me for
a window-peeper, for there were scarcely any to peep at, and
the few I saw were in that shattered state as proved there was
no glazier in the place. Many houses were totally without
glass; perhaps the inhabitants, rather than starve a glazier,
chose to starve themselves.
Ambition seems wholly excluded. The dress of the inhabitants is of that kind which never changes for ages; it is made
to cover, not for show. That of the softer sex, I was told, is a
flannel shift; but this I did not examine. A thin petticoat

270

Life of William Hutton.

covered the lower part, and a short jacket the upper-both of
woollen. I did not see the smallest degree of smartness in the
apparel, even of the young females. When a man chooses a
wife it must be more for the kernel than the shell.
I have reason to believe their style of living is as plain as their
dress; for a swelling in front, from luxury, is rarely seen. One
of the curiosities I saw was a goat feeding, much at ease, upon
the very ridge of a house ! How he came there, or what he fed
upon, I could not well examine, but only state the fact. Perhaps the people within did not fare much better than the goat
without; for I saw but one man with a prominence of belly,
who, I learnt, was an alderman and a butcher, and might have
raised a front with the meat he could not sell. Besides, we all
know the idea of alderman carries in it something plump. The
turnpike man, I was told, was mayor. Some days after, in
-travelling that way towards Dolgelly, I had a small dispute
with Mr. Mayor, though we could not understand each other;
for I found the penny which passed current at one gate would
not pass at the next. During my stay at Dinas Mouddy I did
not utter one word, because I knew I could not be understood.
Returning, well pleased with my visit, I remarked to my landlord---a civil, intelligent man-that I could not conceive the
whole property of the united inhabitants of this celebrated town
"I can tell you to a trifle," says he; "for I
exceeded 6oo00.
know every one of them well." After a short pause, he replied,
" It does not exceed 2401. !"

If care attends multiplicity, these

must be a happy people ; their circumscribed style of existence
declares it. As I saw neither a beggar nor a person in rags, it
corroborates the remark.
CROSS HouR.-While Wales was governed by a multitude
of princes, war, desolation, and blood was the consequence.
We are told, "A house divided against itself cannot stand."
This will equally apply to a nation. Allow a common figure :
"While two contend for a bone, a third runs away with the
prize." Some have thought " conquest disgraceful;" but this
cannot be the case when the victor makes the conquered equal
to himself. The man conversant in history will find conquest
sometimes beneficial to the conquered.
Howel, King of North Wales, was a tyrant. He had
two uncles, lago, who married Helen, whom he, upon a
trifling pretence, cast into prison ; and Edwal Vychan,
whom he murdered. Constantine the Black (Camwellyn Dhe)

Life of William Hutton.

271

the son of Iago, incensed at this treatment of his father and
uncle, raised an army in 979, of Welsh and Danes, invaded
his cousin's dominions, and ravaged Anglesea. Returning
through Caernarvon, towards Festiniog, his mother Helen
led the van, and he closed the rear. At the distance of eight
miles he had to pass a defile, bounded by two mountains,
Mynidd Vawr on the right, upon which stood Castle Cedwm,
and Moel Elyan on the left, which narrow passage Mr. Pennant
justly calls one of the outguards to the entrance of Snowdon.
These are so near each other as to leave but a narrow road for
the traveller, and a bare passage for the river, which runs from
the lake Quethlin, at the foot of Snowdon. As Constantine was
passing the defile, his cousin Howel, unperceived, let fly an arrow
from the top of Castle Cedwm. "Are you wounded ?" "Yes."
"Then you are a dead man, for the arrow was poisoned."
The news of his death soon reached his mother Helen, in
the van, ten miles distant, upon which she exclaimed " This
is a Cross Hour." The side gate at which she stood still
retains the name of Cross Hour.
For want of a guide-post to direct the stranger, I lost my
way, October I, I797, between Tan y Bulch and Beddkelart.
Supposing myself wrong, I made enquiries, but could not
obtain an English answer. Instead of travelling by land, I
found I was going into the sea at a place called Traeth Mawr.
I was given to understand that I might ride over this arm
of the sea, provided I knew the way, and the tide would allow.
But, as I had never rode through that element, I was more
inclined to procure a guide by land; when after losing two
hours' time, travelling seven miles in vain, and being afterwards
thrown into the night, he brought me into the turnpike road at
Cross Hour.
After night commenced, I had to pass the other outguard
to the entrance of Snowdon, Pont Aber Glaslyn, perhaps the
most singular pass in Wales.
The serenity of the night, the rising moon, the tremendous
roar of the river dashing through the rocks, the narrow road
which threatened to let me fall from the precipice into the water,
and the perpendicular mountain on each hand, which almost
united and seemed to promise destruction, had an awful effect.
This year I purchased an estate of ninety-seven acres for
850o/., joining the manor of Heath, in Herefordshire, bought in

Life of William Hutton.

272

I795. The Muse this year also brought forth the following
poems [thirteen poems].
Feb. 7. To a new-married Man.
March 3. On the Bank.
April 13.
May 2.

The Cottager.
The Valentine.

June

The Triumvirate.

4.

9.
24.
July 23.
Aug. 23.
Oct. 26.
,,
,,

Nov.

8.

,,

I3.

Dec. 18.

The Button.
A President.

The Cuckold.
Hair Powder.

George Bridgens.
All Fours.
Flavia to Damon.
Happiness.
1798.

Suppose an animal, a jackass for instance, should eat, move,
and sleep, during a whole day, and every day the same, what
author durst write his life ? His shaking, braying, and browzing,
would scarcely produce anecdote sufficient for history. The
writer would be set fast.
This is exactly my case. If my actions were observed round
the day, the observer would see nothing. And yet he would
see as much, should he watch me round the week. He might
as well write the progress of a clock.
I have now, July 24, passed through nine months of my
seventy-fifth year, without one incident of moment, except
that on March 28 I walked from Saltley to the Heath, fortythree miles, arrived when dinner was removing from the table
(five o'clock).
It was the christening of the first child. I was introduced
into a parlour to twelve men and seven women; joined them,
all strangers, as the twentieth person, and, though no tippler,
drank with them till morning. They wished I would reside
among them. I went sober and in health to rest.
In September I took the same journey; only by being
persuaded to pass through Stourport, and losing my way six
times, I made it forty-six miles. This was the 17th. I
stopped there the 18th, and returned the 19 th, but by some
fatal cause unknown to me the tendon at the bottom of the
heel was injured, never, I fear, to be cured.

Life of William Hutton.

273

As I cannot tell what is to come, here I must stop, and
conclude the history after enumerating my poetical productions
[of the present year, which are eight in number], and my religious and political sentiments.
Jan.
Mar.

14.

1i.

,, 29.
April 3.
May 8.
23.

July 20.
Aug. I8.

Thomas Hassell, the Lover.
Plum-pudding.

The Way to make the Mare go.
The Auctioneer.
The Way to Rule a Village.
The Friar and the Boy.
Heb Dduw Heb Ddim.

Who Laughs.
RELIGION.

What pleasure the effusions of my fancy will give the world
is not tried, but I have had my full share in their fabrication.
They have a moral tendency.
Religion and Politics are the two grand hinges upon which
human life turns. I can assure the reader that my sentiments
on these two points differ from most men's, perhaps from
his own.
All denominations of religion, I apprehend, ought to be free.
Give freedom, and they will never plot. A national church is
generally in partnership with a state. They serve as crutches
to each other. This will be found an unnatural alliance, for
they are very distinct things. One is to guide and protect in
this world, the other to set matters right in the next.
Religion is a meek and humble thing, it never seeks after
trappings, nor are they ever encouraged in the New Testament,
which we accept as the foundation of religious practice. Lands
appropriated to the Church are unnecessary : they encourage
idleness. Every congregation ought to choose, and support its
own pastor.
The whole of religion is comprised in two words: duty to
the Supreme Being, and to man. Both are laid down in the
Scriptures, as well as written in the mind. If it is presumption
to interfere between one man and another, what power ought
to control the intercourse between a man and his Maker?
While he keeps the laws of society, or, in other words, injures
none, he ought to be perfectly free.
T

274

Life of William Hutton.
GOVERNMENT.

It has long been disputed, but never determined, whether
monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, or a mixture, is the best
mode of government ? Perhaps that is the best which is the
best executed, because most happiness will be the result. All
have been tried, and all have been cashiered.
If we look into the history of the world, we shall find a
new institution is tolerably pure; but, as time corrupts all
things, it becomes burthensome by its degeneracy, and the
people try a change. This may set matters right for awhile,
time will derange that, and then for another.
Thus I have wandered through nearly seventy-five years of
my life; and, what I have not seen in any other writer, kept
every year distinct. Whether I shall make any further progress,
or another shall lay the cap-stone upon the building I have
erected, must be left to time.
Perhaps not one in a thousand of the human race has been
favoured with so long an existence; nor one in that number
enjoyed the health which I have been favoured with. Nor,
perhaps, one in ten thousand enjoyed equally the benefits
of Providence, notwithstanding I felt most severely the loss of
my dearest friends, and fell under the calamities of 1791.
I have lived to see one person an infant, and his son an old
man ! Have observed about three generations pass by, and
five times the number of the present human race sink into the
grave! Neither can one in a thousand of the persons now
living remember the transactions of seventy-three years, accompanied with precise dates.
When I consider that within memory the surface of the
earth is totally altered, the old buildings upon that surface
have disappeared, and the new become old; the former
inhabitants given way to the present, whose opinions and
manners are changed, I may say with Dr. Young, "This
is not the world in which I was born."
July 24, 1798.*
* My father began to write the foregoing history of his family on the
1
8th of May, 798; and he finished his own History at the above date,
July 24th, in the same year. After this period he continued his remarks
annually.-CATHERINE HUTTON.

Life of William Hutton. •

275

1798 CONTINUED.

Since I concluded the history of myself, two years have
elapsed; and I thought life would probably roll on in silence
to its ultimate period, which cannot be far distant, But
incidents arise which a man cannot foresee, mischiefs which he
cannot parry, though shielded with innocence; for no man
except an hermit can be a more perfect recluse. Walking,
business, reading, and writing, generally fill the day.
Some events, however, of consequence to me, but of less to
the public, I must record.
[I lost the pen* with which I wrote the whole volume,
without suspecting that I should take up another.]
On the 17th September, this year 179 8, I walked forty-six
miles, ten the next day, and forty-two the third. About two or
three days afterwards I fell lame in the internal part of the left
heel, but from what cause I could not conceive, and continued
so a whole year. None of the faculty could explain the disorder or its rise [having injured the-tendon Achilles].
I underwent a variety of operations, as fomentations, baths,
unctions, embrocations, blisters, &c., &c., without any apparent
benefit. Not being able to walk, I purchased a little horse, for
old men are but awkward climbers. But instead of curing the
foot, he fell down and lamed a hand. I tried Buxton, which
amused, at least, and I do not know whether Time was not the
most skilful Doctor. The more uncertain the disorder, the
more caution is required.
Thus I limped out of this year--and
Limped into the next, 1799.
Being advised to try sea-bathing, I took a journey to Caernarvon, but found no relish for the sea, except so far as it
pleased the eye.
During a stay of six weeks I traversed the country daily, and
saw a variety of curiosities. I attended to men, manners, and
occurrences; was highly delighted; deposited my remarks in
the authorship style, which I intend as a present to some bookseller, should he judge them worthy of notice.
The pleasure of such a tour does not terminate with the
tour itself for the mind, during a long season, returns with

;

* This pen was afterwards found, and is kept as a relic.-CATHERINE
HUTTON.

276

Life of William Hutton.

avidity to the repast. Nor is this all-: the end of one journey
opens the prospect of another. Having tasted delicious fruit,
we long to taste it again. Besides, go where we will, something
is left unseen, or not seen enough. The delight of the last
journey gave rise to another the following year. Thus we
feasted upon a meal uncooked.
I800.

May the ist I lost my brother Thomas, one of the most
singular and amiable of men, [aged seventy-eight.]
We had
resided together during a long age, and the strength of affection was equal to the long time, for, like that, it accumulated
[sixty-nine years, as I have recorded in the history of the

family].*
However secure a man may think he treads, yet he may fall
by unforeseen events, against which prudence itself cannot
guard.
While sitting in the shop with my son on Friday, June 27,
two men entered, followed by about twelve others, all strangers,
and asked to " see the warehouses."
"And welcome !"
" Your secret warehouses."
"We have no secret warehouses," answered my son, with all
the confidence of innocence.
One of the people was stationed
at every door and every avenue; while the remainder entered
every warehouse, which were thirteen, and every room, closet,
and recess in the house, seized and carried off all the boards for
carding buttons that they could find, damaged the goods as
much as they pleased, and seemed to wanton in power.
* "I have now the melancholy task," wrote William Hutton the day
after his brother's death, "of recording the last event of this worthy
brother. After enjoying a series of health during seventy-six years, a
decline gradually approached, but equanimity never forsook him. His
rational and animal powers sunk together, till they fell even beneath those
of an infant. No physical art was administered, because he knew he
was beyond its reach. He daily a*tended the scene of business, through
an ardent wish and long habit, though unable to act, till December 18,
1799, but continued to sink under the farther pressures of decay nineteen
weeks, till yesterday, May I, i8oo, when he departed, at the age of
seventy-eight. His portrait, which is an admirable likeness, was drawn
in April, 1799, in the dress he wore, and may be said to have been taken
in the last hour in which his visage was his own, uninjured by decay. It
is one of the illustrations of this History of the Hutton Family, in my own
handwriting, in my son's library."

Life of William Hutton.

277

They sent away eighteen cart-loads, to the value of about
five hundred pounds; and were so intent upon the work that
they would not allow time to take an account of the plundered
property. I could not forbear remarking "That this was a
second edition of rioting;" in which they, with much composure, acquiesced.
They gave us to understand " they were officers of Excise;
that they had an order from the Board to procure a warrant
from the Justices, to seize all the button-boards, and pasteboards, they could find in Birmingham; that they had applied
to my son first as the principal dealer; that though the buttonboards were exempt from duty by the act, yet that the officers
of Excise who surveyed the Lancashire mills, which had
furnished the Birmingham market, would not suffer buttonboards to be made, without charging them with the same
duty as paste-boards; which had totally destroyed their trade,
and caused them to complain to the Board, and that justly,
of this deprivation." The ignorant Board therefore, ordered
this barbarous seizure, to institute an enquiry.
Thus, in a free country, where enormous sums are paid for
protection, the property was seized, wantonly treated, the trade
destroyed, and without the least fault committed, our character
traduced, and we branded for rascals. This is the interpretation
of the word Freedom !
Two days after I applied to one of the officers to inform
me how I could address the Board? He hinted in a friendly
style, "that another visit was intended us.". We instantly procured assistance, and removed all the boards they refused to
take into a neighbour's house, to the amount of six hundred
pounds.
When two days had elapsed, we saw, with the utmost
astonishment, the officers surround the neighbour's house, and
seize this large deposit! Nothing but ruin and sorrow stared
us in the face. We had not acted amiss, yet must be the
victims of destruction. We had now more than eleven hundred
pounds worth of property fraudulently taken from us, and our
only prospect was a loss of trade and a destructive suit with
the Crown.
We were given to understand, a false friend had lodged an
information in hopes of a prize. I stated the case, and the
clauses in the Act, [in a letter] to the Commissioners. They
were struck with astcnishment, and observed that, "it was

278

Life of William Hutton.

improper to meddle with the stationers, for they were not the
makers."
Men in power have the same right to trifle, as to act in
arbitrary. After a lapse of three months, we were given to
understand that we might have all our property again, paying
the expense of seizures, as, what the tippling officers, and twenty
porters spent, also for their time, carriage to and fro, house-rent,
&c., upwards of twenty pounds, which was complied with.
Thus we durst not apply to justice for redress, because we
considered her a monster.
Struck with the beauties of Caernarvon and its environs, my
daughter and I, attended by a servant and horses, [in the style
of last year,] made a tour of six weeks, Aug. 15. The journey
was delightful. I made additional remarks to my last year's
tour, which lies ready for somebody. Dec. 29, I8oo.
1801.
April the 14th, my brother Samuel died, and, like my father
and sister, at the age of sixty-seven.* I am now the only
survivor of a generation consisting of nine.
My year runs round like a boy beating his hoop round a
circle, and with nearly the same effect, that of a little exercise.
I rise at six in summer, and seven in winter ; march to Birmingham, two miles and a quarter, where my son receives me
with open arms. I return at five, in one, and four in the other,
when my daughter receives me with a smile. I then amuse
myself with reading, conversation, or study, without any
pressure upon the mind, except the melancholy thoughts upon
her I loved; for although six years are nearly elapsed since I
lost her, yet her dear image adheres too close ever to be forgotten even for one day. How my case differs from his who
rejoices at nothing so much as the loss of a wife, except the
liberty of procuring another.
*

April

18, 18oi.

I have now to record the termination of existence

of this, my youngest brother, who died the I4th inst., at the age of 68,

after an indisposition of ten days; worn out after many scenes of adversity,
and only one of prosperity, which he did not know how to improve, that
of ailegacy of 5ool. bequeathed by his sister. An inclination to ramble in
early life, and having spent the prime of his days in the army, rendered
him unfit for the acquirement even of a livelihood.

family, he was sensible and peaceable ...
folio manuscript isa excellent likness,"

Like others of his

His portrait in the great

Life

of William Hutton.

279

I am now in my 7 9 th year, have only two incidents to record,
a journey, the loss of a friend, and a generous act.
In June i80oo, Mr. Coltman, of Leicester, and his lady paid
us a visit, and agreed with my daughter to make a tour to the
Lakes in Cumberland, the following June, and wished me
to be of the party. My consent was quickly obtained, for
having many years had a strong inclination to see the famous
Roman Wall, which crosses the Island of Britain from the
German Ocean to the Irish Sea, I embraced the plan; because
while they were engaged at the Lakes, I could take a trip to
my favourite object. The year winged away in feasting upon
a pleasure to come.
June arrived, when our friends declined the tour, but we
would not be disappointed. My daughter was to mount
behind her servant, upon one of the coach-horses, and I to
walk on foot, a mode of travelling which of all others I prefer.
Many arguments were spent upon me to ride, but in vain. I
comforted myself that, being upon a stage [coach] road, I could
be taken up if unable to perform. We agreed not to impede
each other in the way, but to meet at certain inns for refreshment and rest.
July 4, we set out, and continued together till we came to
Penrith in Cumberland, when she turned to the left for the
remainder of the Lakes, and I proceeded to Carlisle, where the
wall runs. I went down to the Irish sea, returned through
Carlisle to Newcastle, and marched to the Wall's End, and
back again through Newcastle to Carlisle, having crossed the
kingdom twice in one week and six hours, melted with a July
sun, and without a drop of rain.
I then retreated to Hest Bank, three miles north of Lancaster, the place of rendezvous, where I found my dear girl.
From thence, by easy marches, we arrived at Birmingham Aug.
7, after a loss on my part of perhaps one stone of animal
weight by perspiration, an expense of forty guineas, a lapse of
thirty-five days, and a walk of 6o I miles. My remarks upon
this journey are now printing by John Nichols, Esq. *
As so long and singular a journey on foot was, perhaps,
*

"The History of the Roman Wall which crosses the Island of Britain

from the German Ocean to the Irish Sea; describing its Ancient State, and
vol. 8vo.
its Appearance in the Year
By W. Hutton, F. A. S. S,"
80Q2, second edition was published in 183j
A
3

iSox.

280

Life of William Hullon.

never wantonly undertaken by a man of 78, it excited the
wonder of the town, which causes me frequently to be stopped
in the street to ascertain the fact. I shall therefore, to satisfy
all whom it may concern, give the journal of the day in the
following table.
(Date
18oi.

)1

July 4
~

Day.

Saturday

Additional

Slept ata.

Lichfield . ....

-

.
Hulmes Chapel
Warrington .

5 Sunday
6 Monday
Tuesday
7

S
9

.
.

Wednesday

~
~

io
11
12
13

Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Sunday
Monday

~

14

Tuesday

~

15

Wednesday

16

Thursday
Friday

-

Penrith......

18
~ 19

Saturday
Sunday

20
21

Monday
Tuesday

-

Harlow Hill

~ 23
24
~25
~26
~27
~28
~29
,,3o

.5
.-

20

.
.

.
.

6
6

1

25
21

-

17
-

.

.

22

-

-

Glen Velt .. .....Hesketh .......Shap .
Burton ..........

18

1
-

.-

Walwick Chesters

Hest Bank

1

14

-

.
.

Friday

Thursday
Friday
~31
Aug. i Saturday
Sunday
~ 2
3 Monday
~ 4
Tuesday
5 Wednesday
6 Thursday
~ 7
Friday

-

-

1

Newcastle.....

Wednesday

25
19
21
21
21
21
20

-

--

Thursday
Saturday
Sunday
Monday
Tuesday

3

17

ness)......
High Wallton
Twice Brewed

Wednesday

3
-

-

Stanwix.....
Burgh (return from Boul-

22

~
~

-

1
S
18

Ambleside .....

17

.
.

Ditto......
Tarlton........Garstang.....
Haysham.....
Ditto
Hest Bank
Newby Bridge

~

22

-

Liverpool.....

~

16

-

....

Stone.

22

1 (return)

28
-

.

.

~
Ditto
Dittos.............3
Ditto)
Preston .. ......
Wigan. ......Knutsford. ......Newcastle-under-Lyne .Wolsley Bridge ...Saltely, near Birmingham

18
22
i8

-

-

--

-

9

--

-

19
20

-

3
25

-

1
-----

26
17
25
24
21
26

6oi

The second occurrence was the loss of my worthy

friends

Mr. Robert Bage, Sept. i, whom I had known sixty-six years;

Life of William Hutton.

281I

and with whom I had lived upon the most intimate terms of
friendship fifty-one. A person of the most extraordinary parts,
and who has not left behind him a man of more honour
or generosity. I have lost my oldest friend. He was the
author of "Mount Heneth," " Barham Downs," "James
Wallace," " The Fair Syrian," " Man as he is," and "Man as
he is not ;" all much favoured by the world. I wrote, by public
desire, the memoirs of his life, which were published in the
Monthly Magazine for December, 1801.
The third relates to my quitting business in favour of my son,
Dec. 24,

1793,

when I not only reserved an estate for myself

sufficient to support me in a genteel style, but enable me to accumulate annually a sum equal to my wish. But the just and
necessary war oppressed me with taxes beyond what I was able
to sustain; and the rise of provisions, which began in 1798,
obliged me to contract a debt with my son of 65/. Is. 8d.,
which, Dec. 24, I801, he generously drew over; but I should
with more pleasure have given him more than that sum had I
been able.

Dec. 30, i8oi.
1802.

this

year commenced with what I call a foolish loss. A
small estate joining mine, in Herefordshire, of thirty acres, but
scattered into parts, coming under the hammer, I directed my
tenant to attend the sale, and purchase one bit only, provided it
did not exceed a rent he could afford to pay. He attended,
got drunk in a few minutes, bid against none but sweeteners,
or rather against none but himself; bought six lots-that is, all
that were sold, about twenty acres, for 713., three times their
value!
After my anger subsided I pitied the blockhead,
and took the bargain off his hands, at a loss of more than
4001.

In June, " The History of the Roman Wall" was published,
in octavo, price seven shillings; and in October I was surprised
to see an extract of my Life appear in Phillips's "Annual History of Public Characters." * Twenty-two pages are employed
* "Sir Richard Phillips's account of my father was extracted from the
History of his Life, and is given frequently in his own words. My father
lent the manuscript to a person employed by Sir Richard."-CATHERINE,
HUTTON,

282

Life of William Zutton.

to flatter my vanity. My worthy friend Mr. Pratt,* the celebrated Gleaner, had a prior idea of writing my Life, and had
procured materials. He requested my daughter to furnish him
with some minute iricidents which occurred in our journey to
the Lakes and the Wall. I shall transcribe her letter in
return :
To Samuel _ackson Pratt,Esq.
DEAR SIR,-Our summer excursion in I80o was ardently
wished for by both. My father's object was to see the Roman
Wall-mine, the Lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland.
We talked it over by our fireside every evening the preceding
winter. He always insisted upon setting out on foot, and performing as much of the journey as he should be able in the
same manner. I made little objection to this plan, reserving
myself for a grand attack at last.
When the time drew near, I represented to my father that
it was impossible he should walk the whole way, though I
agreed with him that he could walk a considerable part; the
only difference between us was, whether he should ride to prevent mischief, or after mischief was done. I besought him
with tears to go as far as Liverpool in a carriage, and valk
afterwards, as he might find it expedient; but he was inflexible.
All I could obtain was a promise that he would take care of
himself.
I rode on a pillion behind the servant, and our mode of
travelling was this.: my father informed himself at night how
he could get out of the house the next morning before the
servants were stirring. He rose at four o'clock, walked to the
end of the next stage, breakfasted, and waited for me. I set
out at seven, and when I arrived at the same inn breakfasted
also. When my father had rested two hours, he set off again.
When my horse had fed properly, I followed, passed my father
on the road, arrived before him at the next inn, and bespoke
dinner and beds.
My father was so careful not to be put out of his regular
* Samuel Jackson Pratt was a native of St. Ives in Huntingdonshire,
having been born there in 1749, and died at Birmingham in 1814. He was
a remarkably accomplished man and a voluminous writer, both in prose
and in verse. He was also a dramatic writer, and his " Fair Circassian"
and other pieces were general favourites, His writings occupy certainly
not less than fiifty or sixty volumes of on,'e sizor other

Life of William Hutton.

283

pace, that he would not allow me to walk by his side, either on
foot or on horseback, not even through a town. The only
time I ever did walk with him, was through the streets of
Warrington, and then, of my own accord, I kept a little behind,
that I might not influence his step. He chose that pace
which was the least exertion to him, and never varied it. It
looked like a saunter, but it was steady, and got over the
ground at the rate of full two miles and a half in an hour.
When the horse on which I rode saw my father before him,
he neighed, though at the distance of a quarter of a mile, and
the servant had some trouble to hold him in. He once laid
the reins upon his neck, and he trotted directly up to my
father, then stopped, and laid his head on his shoulder.
My father delivered all his money to me before we left home,
reserving only a few pieces of loose coin, in case he should
want on the road. I paid all bills, and he had nothing to do
but walk out of an inn when he found himself sufficiently
refreshed.
My father was such an enthusiast with regard to the Wall,
that he turned neither to the right nor the left, except to
gratify me with a sight of Liverpool. Winander Mere he saw,
and Ullswater he saw, because they lay under his feet, but
nothing could detain him from his grand object.
When he had reached Penrith, we took a melancholy
breakfast and parted, with a tear half suppressed on my father's
side, and tears, not to be suppressed, on mine. He continued
his way to Carlisle, I turned westward for Keswick. After a
few days' stay there, I went back to Hest Bank, a small
sea-bathing place near Lancaster, where we had appointed to
meet.
While I remained at Hest Bank, I received two scraps of
paper, torn from my father's pocket-book; the first, dated from
Carlisle, July 20, in which he told me he was sound in body,
shoe, and stocking, and had just risen from a lodging among
fleas. The second, from Newcastle, July 23, when he informed
me he had been at the Wall's End ; that the weather was so
hot he was obliged to repose under hedges, and that the
country was infested with thieves. But lest I should be under
any apprehensions for his personal safety, he added, they were
only such as demolished his idol, the Wall, by stealing the
stones of which it was composed4
On the fth morning after my arrival at -HeTest Bank i before I

284

Life of William Hutton.

was up. I heard my father hem ! on the stairs. I answered by
calling out Father! which directed him to my room, and a
most joyful meeting ensued. He continued here four days,
wondered at, and respected by the company. We set out on
our return home in the same manner as before, and reached it
in safety.
During the whole journey I watched my father with a jealous
eye. The first symptom of fatigue I observed was at Budworth
in Cheshire, after he had lost his way, and been six hours upon
his legs, first in deep sands and then on pavement road. At
Liverpool his spirits were good, but I thought his voice rather
weaker. At Preston he first said he was tired; but having
walked eleven miles farther to Garstang, he found himself
recovered, and never after, to the best of my remembrance,
uttered the least complaint. He usually came into an inn in
high spirits, ate a hearty meal, grew sleepy after it, and in two
hours was rested. His appetite never forsook him. He regarded strong liquors with abhorrence. Porter he drank when
he could get it : ale and spirits never. He mixed his wine with
water, but considered water alone as the most refreshing
beverage.
On our return, walking through Ashton, a village in Lancashire, a dog flew at my father and bit his leg, making a wound
about the size of a sixpence. I found him sitting in the inn at
Newton, where we had appointed to breakfast, deploring the
accident and dreading its consequences. They were to be
dreaded. The leg had yet a hundred miles to walk in extreme
hot weather. I comforted my father. "Now," said I, "you
will reap the fruit of your temperance. You have put no strong
liquors or high sauces into your leg; you eat but when you are
hungry, and drink but when you are thirsty, and this will enable
your leg to carry you home." The event showed I was right.
The wound was sore, and the leg round it was inflamed, as
every leg under such circumstances must be, but it never was
very troublesome, nor ever indulged with a plaster.
From the time we parted at Penrith till we reached home,
the weather was intensely hot. My father frequently walked
with his waistcoat unbuttoned, and the perspiration was so excessive that I have even felt his coat damp on the outside
from the moisture within. His bulk visibly diminished every
day. When he arrived at Wolsley Bridge, on our return, I was
terribly alarmed at this, and thanked God he had but one day

Life of William Hutton.

285

more to walk. When we had got within four days of our
journey, I could no longer restrain my father. We made forced
marches, and if we had had a little farther to go the foot would
fairly have knocked up the horse ! The pace he went did not
even fatigue his shoes. He walked the whole six hundred miles
in one pair, and scarcely made a hole in his stockings.
I am, dear Sir,
Your very sincere friend and obedient servant,
CATHERINE HUTTON.

Thus, while I give a faithful history of our journey, my
daughter gives as faithful a one of myself.
The poets have often drawn a happy life in their wishes, and
the painters in the delineation of their pictures; but, by the
complaint of individuals, we should be apt to conclude that
happiness is only to be found in the pen and the pencil / The
truth is, we groan under the cloud, and forget the bright day.
Happiness is more in our own power than we apprehend.
Like a shy nymph, she must be courted, she may be won, is
soon offended, and then disappears.
WHAT IS A HAPPY LIFE

?

Suppose a man endeavours after health, and his endeavours
are blessed with such success that, by a proper use of his
animal powers, he can, at fourscore, walk thirty miles a day.
Suppose him, by assiduity and temperance, to have obtained a
complete independency, can reside in a house to his wish, with
a garden for use and amusement, is blessed with a son and a
daughter of the most affectionate kind, who attentively watch
his little wants with a view to supply them: add as an appendage to this little family a pair of old and faithful horses, who
are strangers to the lash, and whose value increases with their
years. Still add to a taste for reading the benefits arising from
Would you proa library of choice authors, which cost
nounce this a happy man ? That man is myself. Though my
morning was lowering, my evening is sunshine.

1500oo.

A
TO DR.

DAY.

WITHERING, WHO INQUIRED HOW I SPENT MY TIME.

So much one day is like another,
It might be taken for its brother.

286

Life of William Hutton.
At six o'clock I raise my head,
Toss the warm covering off my bed,
Dress, and if thoughts sprang in the night,
Distinguish them in black and white;
Survey the skies with half a scowl,
And prophesy if fair or foul.
Then to my Girl I softly creep,
To steal a kiss whilst fast asleep;
For when the foot but lightly moves,
We stand a chance to win the gloves.
My hat put on, I quit my door,
Set out to walk two miles or more;
Animal pow'rs now set a-going,
The mental powers set a-flowing,
They orderly begin to chime,
Ending in measure tipp'd with rhyme.
At Birmingham I meet my Boy,
And never met him without joy;
For life to melancholy tends,
if 'tis not cheer'd by valued friends.
Nay, if to solitude we give,
We scarcely can be said to live.
Thoughts of the pen I now lay by,
On paper only cast an eye.
My glasses, newspapers, and I, late,
Enter the parlour to be private.
"Let's see what statesmen are contriving,
How the politic nags they're driving."
But how can I men's actions view,
Who know so little what they do ?
My joyous breakfast come at last in,
I relish like a ploughman fasting;
Chat with all comers on each head,
But after all there's nothing said.
The servant finishes debates,
Opens with, " Sir, the dinner waits."
Who would not enter with all his heart,
To taste plum-pudding, tart, and dessert?
Let me with these sweet dishes join,
And you, my friend, may take sirloin.
Nought now remains (the floor well trod),
But warm my shins or take a nod;

Life of William Hutton.
Till gloves are on, hat o'er the eye,
" 'Tis striking five, and so good-bye."
The bulky town recedes from view,
I meet with bows, and "How d'ye do?"
The rain and I each other chase,
We're often found in close embrace.
Though fair without and pure within,
I like her not to touch my skin.
When Aston steeple strikes my eye,
It steals for her r lov'd a sigh.
An intercourse now lost I mourn,
How to forget I ne'er can learn.
One mile walk'd o'er, the traveller sees
My little cot peep through the trees.
Dear cot ! in which I ever find,
That best of blessings, peace of mind;
Which ne'er gave anxious thought or sigh,
Until the fourteenth of July;
When laid in ashes by ill men,
But, phoenix like, thou rose again.
Hid from the world, from care, from din,
I cast a pleasing look within.
There I, with truth it may be said,
Write for the living, wake the dead;
Converse with those who liv'd of yore,
And feed on what they fed before.
Transactions at command appear,
Bringing to view each distant year.
Now, in heroic verse, I'll state,
How, as I enter through my gate,
Old Cerberus bounces from his bed,
Not grac'd with three, but with one head;
Bullies in thund'ring strains about,
Resolv'd to keep invaders out:
But the discov'ring who I am,
Converts the monster to the lamb.
He greets me with that mouth and eye,
Rais'd the past moment to destroy;
Makes his tremendous jaws expand,
And gently leads me by the hand.
Severity might give him blows,
Humanity the pat bestows.

287

288

Life of William Hutton.
The birds my little grove retain,
Welcome me with their pleasing strain.
In gratitude they sing their best,
Because they hold a peaceful nest;
For neither nest or bird has been
Disturb'd, since first my grove was seen:
A place, perhaps, by right divine,
As much their freehold as 'tis mine;
And, as we both are now possessors,
Both may bequeath it our successors.
Nor shall it in the frost be said,
I e'er withheld a crumb of bread.
My pair of greys the Muse engage,
They in my service see old age.
They hear my voice, they make no stand,
But take the bread from master's hand;
Perceiving an exhausted store,
They follow me in quest of more.
I turn, which their slow footstep checks,
" So, my poor lads !" and pat their necks.
They never knew a treatment harsh,
Strangers to want, as to the lash.
I meet my servants growing old,
But never meet them with a scold.
My equals in an eye divine,
Why not my equals then in mine?
Puss cocks her tail, begins to crawl,
And rubs her side against the wall.
She ne'er in all her life has spoke,
Or she would say, " Give me a stroke."
But what that pleasure can surpass,
When my Girl sees me, through the glass,
Rises to meet me, while her joy
Takes full possession of her eye ?
Whatever comfort age can find,
Lies in the storehouse of her mind.
Now garden, converse, book, or pen,
Tea, supper, music, please till ten;
When the bell rings, to "bring a light,"
I rise and burrow for the night.
SOf blessings can I wish for more?
They amply satisfy fourscore :

Life of William Hutton.

289

And I enjoy, others,.artaking,
A little heaven of my own making.*
Nov. 20, 1802.

Last year I treated my reader, or rather myself,with an unfashionable journey on foot, while my carriage slept in the
coach-house and my horses browsed in the field. From this
disgraceful style of walking, we should conclude that feet were
not made for conveyance-that there was a pride in being unable to walk, and that pride was hurt if caught in the act.
I now consented, however, to take our annual excursion, in
style, for a visit to Derby, Matlock, Leicester, and Fotheringay.
We commenced our journey June 19. Stopped at Derby to
view the scene of my childish amusement, and ruminate on
transactions none of which bore a shorter date than sixty-seven
years. Here memory had her full scope in examining ten different places of my residence; also those of my ancestors for
two hundred years.
I was a stranger at home. I knew no
soul; not a soul knew me. The generation to which I once
united was gone.
After two days' stay we drove to Kedleston, a place of civility
and delight; were admitted, after delivering in my name, into
that scene of wonder, the Hall.f Everything was grand and
expensive, and everything new except the books and the plate.
The park is most beautiful, and the oaks of a magnitude seldom
seen. Lord Scarsdale, I was told, had been offered iool. each
for nine trees, also 7ol. each for thirty. Perhaps some of the
trees are as old as the family, for they came over with William.
I perfectly remember the old hospitable hall in my infancy, and
the owner in his.
Arrived at Matlock; which, though I had before visited, I
had not seen. The man of taste will be delighted with the
variegated walks and scenes, which will bear reviewing. Mr.

t

y These verses have been published in the Volume of Poems, but, at my
Father's particular request, they are inserted here.-CATHERINE HUTTON.
f These would be in Bridge Gate, Full Street, Brook Walk, and other
parts of Derby.
SKedleston Hall, the seat of Lord Scarsdale, was built after the designs
of Adam, the architect of the Adelphi in London, and of many other
notable buildings. It was erected in 1765, and is one of the purest
classical mansions in existence. The older mansion, which Hutton says he
remembers in his infancy, was taken down to make way for the present

magnificent pile.

290

Life of William Hutton.

Arkwright's* improvement of the rocks is most charming, and
is only excelled by his kiftlness in exhibiting them to the
public eye.
* This was Richard Arkwright, Esq., son and heir of Sir Richard
Arkwright, the famous inventor, and the improver of cotton-spinning
machinery. Sir Richard was born in 1732, and married, first, Patience
Holt of Lancaster, and, second, Margaret Biggins of Pennington. He was
the son of poor parents, and the youngest of thirteen children. He
was never at school, and what little he did learn was without aid. He was
apprenticed to a barber, and after learning that wretched business set up
for himself as a barber in Bolton, in an underground cellar, over which
he put up the signboard with the curious wording of " COME TO THE
SUBTERRANEOUS BARBER.-HE SHAVES FOR A PENNY,"

painted upon

it. Carrying away by his low prices the trade from the other barbers in
the place, they reduced their prices to his level. Arkwright then, not
to be outdone, and to keep the lead in the number of customers, put up the
announcement of "A CLEAN SHAVE FOR A HALFPENNY," which no
doubt he found answer well. After a time he quitted his cellar, and took
to tramping from place to place as a dealer in hair. For this purpose
he attended statute fairs, and other resorts of the people, and bought
their crops of hair from the girls, bargaining for and cutting off their
curls and tresses, and selling them again to the wig-makers. He also
dealt in hair-dye, and tried to find out the secret of a perpetual motion.
Thus led to mechanical pursuits, he neglected his business, lost what little
money he had saved, and was reduced to great poverty. Having become
acquainted with a watchmaker named Kay, at Warrington, and had
assistance from him in constructing his models, he first, it is said, received
from him the idea of spinning by rollers-but only the idea-for Kay
could not practically tell how it was to be accomplished. Having once
got the idea, Arkwright set to work and neglected everything else for its
accomplishment, and, in desperation and poverty, his poor neglected wife,
who could see only waste of time and neglect of business in the present
state of affairs, and ruin and starvation in the future, as the consequence,
broke up his models, in hope of bringing him back to his trade and
his duties to his family. And who can blame the young wife? The
unforgiving husband, however, separated from her in consequence, and
never forgave her. His poverty, indeed, was so great at this time, that
having to vote as a burgess, he could not go to the polling place until, by
means of a subscription, some clothes had been bought for him to put on.
Having re-made, and pretty well completed, his model, but fearful of
having it destroyed, as Hargreaves' spinning jenny had been by a mob,
Arkwright removed to Nottingham, taking his model with him. Here,
showing his model to Messrs. Wright, the bankers, he obtained from them
an advance of money on the proper condition of their sharing in the profits
of the invention. Delay occurring in the completion of the machine, the
bankers recommended Arkwright to apply to Jedediah Strutt (ancestor of
the present Lord Belper), of Derby, who, with his partner Need, had
brought out and patented the machine for making ribbed stockings.
Strutt at once entered into the matter, and by his help the invention was
completed. Thus the foundation of the fortune of the Arkwrights was laid,

Life of William Hution.

291

Rising a hill called the Heights of Abraham, is a favourite
serpentine walk, about half a mile, where the prospect varies
at every turn, and is always pleasing. A spacious alcove accommodates the wanderer, in which I paid the following tribute:
The fools write on, the fools blot out,
Some with a pencil, some a clout.
Scribblers, refrain your idle talk,
And thank the owner for this walk ;
For, should the want of health appear,
Who seeks that gem, may find it here.*

Some amusement may be drawn from the various characters
assembled at a public table. In one man we could observe a
silent hearer, though not wanting in intellect. In another, a
harmless head upon the shoulders of a lawyer. Another had
acquired the gout and a thousand a year by the sale of tobacco,
yet had not forgotten the important value of a shilling. A
fourth, an officer just returned from killing the French, and
now attempted to kill the ladies, but perhaps succeeded in
neither. In one lady we saw nothing charming but the outside
of her face. In another, the inestimable treasures of good
sense, prudence, and temper within. In a third, a Venus of
Medicis tipsy. The clergy are sometimes charged with an
unsocial behaviour, keep at a distance, preserve the rust of the
college, and will not suffer us to approach so near as to rub it
off. During a fortnight's stay at Matlock, we were favoured
with the company of six sons of the Church who reversed this
charge, for they were all open and friendly. In one might be
observed the supreme of modesty. In another, good judgment, with now and then an oath. In a third, a jolly soul,
A fourth united
contented with his glass and his poverty.
riches, civility, and dignity. Another never uttered a sentence
and thus arose their cotton mills and their residence (Willersley Castle) near
and in the same year
Matlock. Arkwright was knighted in the year
was High Sheriff of Derbyshire. He died in 1792.
* In this same alcove, some years later, Montgomery, who visited
Matlock with his friend Ebenezer Rhodes, wrote the following elegant
impromptu in pencil on the wall :" Here in wild pomp, magnificently bleak,
Stupendous Matlock towers amid the Peak;
Here rocks on rocks, on forests forests rise,
Spurn the low earth and mingle with the skies.
Great Nature, slumbering by fair Derwent's stream,
Conceived these giant mountains in a dream."

1786,

U 2

292

Life of William Hutton.

of his own, but followed his leader; yet possessed one of the
best hearts that ever filled a human breast. The sixth was a
buck of the first magnitude, whether in person, song, glass, or
One important thing
joke; but all were good-natured.
attends a watering-place, we contract friendships which are
shipwrecked in a day.:
An inhabitant of Matlock has, by the labour of seventeen
years, added another wonder to the place, by penetrating a
rock, chiefly spar, in the hill called Proud Masson, which,
opening from cave to cave, leads the traveller three or four
hundred yards, with the sparry lustres shining by his candle.
He has named it Cumberland Cave.t Admittance one shilling.
But the greatest wonder I saw was Miss Phcebe Bown, in person five feet six, is about thirty, well-proportioned, round-faced
and ruddy, a dark penetrating eye, which, the moment it fixes
upon your face, stamps your character, and that with precision.
Her step (pardon the Irishism) is more manly than a man's,
and can cover forty miles a day. Her common dress is a man's
As she is
hat, coat, with a spencer over it, and men's shoes.
un-married, I believe she is a stranger to breeches.
She can lift one hundredweight in each hand, and carry
fourteen score; can sew, knit, cook, and spin, but hates them
all, and every accompaniment to the female character, that of
modesty excepted. A gentleman at the New Bath had recently
treated her rudely ; " she had a good mind to have knocked
She assured me " she never knew what fear
him down."
was." She gives no affront, but offers to fight any man who
gives her one. If she never has fought, perhaps it was owing
to the insulter being a coward; for the man of courage would
disdain to offer an insult.
* The same year that Hutton visited Matlock (1802) a townsman of his,
George Lipscombe of Birmingham, published a little work, "A Description
of Matlock Bath," &c., and says that the place consists principally of
three inns, known by the names of the Old Bath, the New Bath, and the
" Hotel," and of two convenient lodging-houses (one of which has been
lately erected), all of them situate on the south-east side of the Derwent,
commanding picturesque views of the cliff, the wood, and the river; and
affording accommodation for about four hundred visitors. Its three inns
are now multiplied by four, and its two lodging-houses by at least fifty,
for now nearly every house in the place, besides long ranges of shops, lets
lodgings, or is a place of public accommodation for the thousands of visitors
who flock to it by excursion trains almost daily during the summer months.

t The Cumberland Cavern is still one of the "sights"

of Matlock Bath,

Life of

WVilliamn Huton.

293

She has strong sense, an excellent judgment, says smart
things, and supports an easy freedom in all companies. Her
voice is more than masculine, it is deep-toned. With the wind
in her favour she can send it

a mile.

Has no beard or pro-

minence of breast; undertakes any kind of manual labour,
as holding the plough, driving the team, thatching the barn,
using the flail, &c. ; but her chief avocation is breaking horses
at a guinea a week; always rides without saddle, and is thought
to be the best judge of a horse, cow, &c., in

the country, and

is frequently employed to purchase for others at the fairs.
She is fond of Milton, Pope, and Shakspeare, also of music;
is self-taught, and performs on several instruments, as the flute,
violin, harpsichord, and supports the bass viol in Matlock
Church.
Is a marks-woman, and carries the gun on her
shoulder.

She eats no beef or pork, and but little mutton.

Her chief food is milk, which is also her drink; discarding
wine, ale, and spirits.*
Curious to see the tomb of the greatest subject that ever

lived in England, Cardinal Wolsey, nay, who even governed
the most absolute king, Henry the Eighth, we drove to
Leicester. Great part of the front of the Abbey is yet stand* Phoebe Bown lived in a cottage nearly opposite the High Tor, at Matlock
Bath, with her mother, who was very proud of her and her independent
character. It consisted of one room only on the ground floor, but a lady
having presented her with a harpsichord, Phoebe, mainly by her own
hand labour, built another room to the cottage for its reception. She had a
taste for music, the instruments she played upon being the flute and the
fiddle. In dress she was most eccentric, generally being habited in a
man's woollen coat, a short petticoat, several handkerchiefs tied over her
head, and a man's hat on the top of all. She was no bad carpenter and
mason, was a good mower in the hayfield, and reaper in the corn season,
and was ostler, farrier, groom, and horsebreaker ; and she was also a good
fighter. She was considered a good agriculturist, and an excellent breeder
of cattle, and was also a good smith, making out of everything that came in
her way some formidable weapon, with which her house was literally
stored. Harmless but uncouth, Phoebe Bown passed away her extraordinary life in this place, and died in 1854. The Rev. Mr. Gaunt, of
Matlock, wrote an epitaph for her at her own request, and it is said to have
greatly pleased her.
"Here lies romantic Phoebe,
Half Ganymede, half Hebe;
A maid of mutable condition,
A jockey, cowherd, and musician."
A memoir, with portrait, of this remarkable woman, will be found in the
" Reliquary," vol, ii, page 137$

294

Life of William H. tton.

ing, and discovers the vestiges of former grandeur; but I
sought in vain for the chapel. Could I have found that, I
could have found the chancel, which, no doubt, was the place

of his interment.

Tradition pointed out the spot, but on this

I could not rely.

Every man has a wish to gratify.

This wish may hang long

upon his mind, which he can neither accomplish nor discharge.
I had, during many years, an ardent desire to see Fotheringay; a place celebrated in all our histories as the depository

of two Princes, the birth-place of a King, and the murder of a
Queen.
Visiting a friend in this tour, twelve miles north of Leicester,
and being only twenty-eight from the favourite spot, I determined to use my feet, while my horses grazed in peace, though
every person I consulted, assured me "there was nothing to be
.seen." Approaching the place, I thought the steeple one of
the handsomest I had remarked. In the chancel, at the
Communion-table, are the monuments of the two princes
opposite each other, exactly alike, of stone of fine texture,
painted white, and both executed by Queen Elizabeth in 1573.
On the right is that of the second Edward, Duke of York,
grandson to Edward the Third, and great-uncle to Henry the
Fifth. He resided at this Castle, was killed at the battle of
Agincourt, and interred in a religious house here, founded by
his father and endowed by himself. Here he rested till Henry
the Eighth destroyed the house ;when his remains lay neglected
forty years, till deposited under his monument at the above
date.
On our left, and facing the other monument, is that of
Richard Duke of York and Cicely his wife. He was nephew
to the above duke, and father of Edward the Fourth; was
killed at the battle of Wakefield in 1460, in fighting for a crown
which he ought to have enjoyed without fighting. This is
a lesson to kings, never to violate the rules of justice; for the
quarrel between the Roses totally destroyed the family of
Henry the Fourth, who was the aggressor. It is also a lesson
to subjects, to let contending kings fight their own battles;
for this cruel contest ruined one hundred thousand families !
An old inhabitant of the place assured me he had seen
a written agreement between the duke and an undertaker
in which the latter was to erect the church for three hundred

Life of William Hutton.

295

pounds, the Duke finding materials; but he fell before the
work was completed.
In the pulpit are the royal arms, carved in wood, which, my
guide told me were those of Richard the Third, who perhaps
put a finishing hand to the church. The pulpit is as old as the
building, and on each side of the supporters was a boar,
Richard's crest: one of them is still perfect. He was born in
the Castle in 1452. His character I have delineated in the
Battle of Bosworth Field.
I saw the place where the castle stood, joining the village.
It is about eight acres, upon a flat, of an oblong form, and
remarkably strong, but there is not one stone left upon another,
and yet I had all the satisfaction I wished. The trenches are
wide, deep, and nearly perfect. The river Nen washes one
side, and fills the other three. The whole area is in grass, a
farm house and a few nettles excepted. With the soil thrown
out to form the trenches is composed a conical hill, whose base
perhaps covers an acre, rises twenty yards, and terminates in a
flat, thirty yards in diameter. On this flat, in the centre, has
stood a tower, circular as the hill, and covered a diameter of
fifteen yards ; and this tower was surrounded by about eighteen
turrets, which.stood upon the verge of the mound. Fifteen of
their foundations I counted.
At the foot of this artificial hill stood the Castle. The
people of the country have stocked up the stones to the very
foundation for buildings and the roads; and left the trenches
so complete, that the various rooms might be discovered.
Exclusive of many apartments for private use, I could particularise three state rooms; in one of these, no doubt, Richard
the Third was born.
The Great Hall, in which the unfortunate Mary Queen of
Scots was beheaded, 1 58 7, appeared very conspicuous. It is
thirty yards by twenty-four, and had two entrances. I sought
for the benches on which sat her thirty-six insulting judges;
and the scaffold raised two feet high at the upper end of the
Hall, on which she suffered, but could find no traces of either.
What will unprejudiced posterity say of Elizabeth, when
they are told that Mary, in distress, fled to her for protection,
upon a promise of safety; but instead of an hospitable reception,
was, through a mean jealousy, kept a prisoner eighteen years,
and then destroyed? All the sham plot laid to her charge
ended in a vapourn, except that of plotting for her own liberty,

296

Life of William Hutton.

of which none had a right to deprive her. Perhaps no scheme
was ever carried on with more deceit than that of her destruction. If her son, James the First, was not an actor in this base
tragedy, he was pleased with the piece and the performers,
though he endeavoured to establish a contrary opinion. He
pulled down the harmless castle of Fotheringay, out of revenge
for his mother's death, but took the actors into favour!
Perhaps he was as jealous of his mother as Elizabeth. He
loved a crown as well as she, to which his mother was not only
a rival but had a prior right. The two sovereigns well understood each other while the scapegoat was destroying.
Deeply impressed with former transactions, while standing
upon the very spot on which she suffered, I left the place with
regret and with a sigh.

Dec. 31, 1802.

1803.
Having arrived at fourscore, allow me to state some of the
feelings attendant upon that advanced age.
I am strongly attached to old habits and old fashions, even
though absurd. Instead of longing for a new coat, I part with
the old one as with an old friend who has well treated me.
My daily work is so circumscribed that I forget some lessons,
and cannot learn others. One lesson, however, I must learnto eat without teeth.
The farther we advance in years, the more we are affected
with both heat and cold. In early life our feelings are but little
influenced by either.
I can better remember the transactions of seventy years than
of yesterday. Pour liquor into a full vessel, and the top will run
off first. Perhaps I can recollect being in a thousand companies; every person which composed them is now departed
except myself. Upon whatever family I cast a distant eye, I
remark in that family a generation has sprung into life, passed
through the bloom of the day, and sunk into obscurity. In
some families I have known seven generations. My old friends
have slipped off the stage, and I am as unfit to unite with new
as new cloth with old. Thus I am become a stranger to a
world which I have long known.
As age increases, sleep decreases. When a child in health
enters upon life, it can sleep twenty-two out of the twenty-four
hours a day. Its sleep will diminish about three hours, upon
the average, every year during the next three, when activity

Life of William Hutton.

297

will enable it to nurse itself. That reduction will afterwards be
nearly one hour every ten years, till he arrives at eighty, when
four or five will be his hours of sleep.
It is curious to contemplate the fluctuation of property. I
have seen the man of opulence look with disdain upon a pauper
in rags. I have seen that pauper mount the wheel of fortune,
and the other sink to the bottom. I have seen a miserable
cooper, not worth the shavings he made, place his son to a baker,
and his son became a rich banker, a member, and a baronet.
The long indisposition of my daughter induced us to try the
effect of air, water, and sea-bathing at Scarborough. During
the first four weeks of our residence there she found no improvement of health, but afterwards she gradually mended for
the seven weeks following, the time of her abode. This improvement continued about five months. The success prognosticates another tour.
As I made remarks upon this most agreeable journey, which
I communicated to John Nichols, Esq., who is now printing
them in octavo, I shall here decline the subject.* Dec. 31,
1803.
* "The Scarborough Tour in 1803." By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S., 1803.
As our author purposely avoided giving any particulars of this tour, it may
be well to fill up the gap by a few words, and that pretty much in his own
words :-" My daughter, from being caught in the rain," he says, "and
not changing her dress, took cold, which brought on a tightness of
breathing. Every attention was paid towards recovery, but we could not
find it. We were disposed to try sea-air, sea-bathing, and spa-water,
with exercise on horseback. She mentioned Scarborough, to which I
assented. June the 19th, 1803, we took the mail, the servant attending
with a horse and pillion. The journey from Birmingham to Sheffield being
seventy-five miles was thought too long a stretch in one day for a sick
person. We stopped at Derby."
"Here," (at Derby) Hutton continues, "I reviewed the various scenes
of former acts, which gave a scope for reflection. I examined the silkmill, once the wonder of the age, which I had known in its pristine state,
and had lived to see it wear out even a building lease, and was nearly worn
out itself. I was, seventy-three years ago, the least of 300 people who
laboured there; every one, upon enquiry, was now in the grave. Five
thousand have since succeeded; and I was given to understand that their
united property did not exceed mine. Such is the fluctuation of things !
"Every person was unknown to me. I frequently singled out and
accosted an old man, when it appeared that I had known his father in
youth !-two generations had passed away since I knew the place. The
town is increasing, and rising in opulence.
" Since the improvements of our roads during the last age, travelling is
become frequent, and has introduced a set of rough masters unknown

298

Life of William Hulton.

1804.
This year opened, as the nine preceding years had done,
with melancholy reflections upon the loss of an excellent
woman, who had acted a principal part in the drama of my
life, which produced the following poem.
To THE MEMORY OF A DEAR GIRL, ONCE NAMED SARAH
COCK, WHO DIED JAN. 23, 1796.

Sarah, when thoudfirst came over,
Though no smile upon me came,
I assumed the faithful lover,
Two hearts united in one flame.
During forty years' possessing,
Whene'er thou approach'd my sight,
My heart, as conscious of the blessing,
Felt a ray of pure delight.
Pity was to love united,
When came seventeen years of pain;
Thy drooping head my hand invited,
Which my dear could not sustain.
in my youth. They govern our time, our comfort, and in a small degree
[What would he have said to
our property: I mean stage-coachmen."
railways ?] " They claim the exclusive privilege of loitering, tippling, and
incommoding at pleasure. Before we arrived at the Peacock, thirteen
miles beyond Derby, we were overtaken by two gentlemen in a chaise, and
They had taken their passages in the coach,
soon after by a stage-coach.
paid their fare according to custom, which, by the way (fore-hand pay), is a
very bad custom. When the driver took eight persons into the carriage they
remonstrated 'It was not possible to stow so much live stock in so small a
Hard words ensued. The
compass.' ' You must make room; it's easy.'
gentlemen quitted the carriage, hired a chaise to the Peacock, entered our
mail, and threatened a prosecution. But as a man is apt to utter sore
things in a warm moment, and possibly forget them in a cooler, I exhibit
the fact to the world."
Our tourists proceeded by Chesterfield, Sheffield, Rotherham, Doncaster,
Pontefract, Ferrybridge, Towton Field, Sherburn, and Tadcaster, to York,
and from thence by way of Whitewell and Malton to Scarborough, where
they arrived on the 24th of June, having taken six days to accomplish a
journey of 175 miles. Here they engaged to board and lodge with a family,
the terms being "25s. a week each for manydaughter and I, exclusive
6d.;
of tea and liquors, and los. each for a bed; the servant half, or
and the same sum for the horse, including corn." This was at " Crathorne's,
in Merchants' Row, joining Palace Hill: these are sounding names, but
they are streets of horror."
Here they remained eighteen days.
SThese verses have also been published in the volume of Poems,

17s.

Life of William

ultton.

299

When ill-natured time bereav'd me
Of thyself, the source of joy,
Two dear treasures thou bequeath'd me,
Dear as sight is to my eye.
O ! I mourn the day I lost thee,
As the year winds round its way,
Many a sigh and tear thou cost me,
Sorrow never sleeps a day.
Gentle spirit, can I find thee,
When the lamp of life shall cease,
To my anxious bosom bind thee,
Where thou long possess'd a place?
Jan. 23, 1804.

My tour to Scarborough was published in June, and arrived
there a few days before us, in our second journey. This visit
of twelve weeks gave as much delight as the last, and more
health to my dear girl, which foretells a third in 1805.
In this second tour to Scarborough, I made a more minute
inquiry into the particulars of the dreadful battle of Towton
Field. The whole country, as observed, was uninclosed.
That spot which sustained the heat of the conflict, is now an
inclosure of about twenty acres, rather hollow, but upon
elevated ground, and is called Towton Slade. The land adjoining the Slade on the north descends to the place where
some springs rise that form the rivulet which was tinged with
blood, not that blood shed in the battle, but in the pursuit, in
which, to the disgrace of the age, no quarter was given.
I was shown two tumuli where the slain were deposited. In
Saxon Churchyard, half a mile from the Slade, I saw the
tomb of Lord Dacre, who fell on that fatal day. His epitaph
is in the old English character.
In November my volume of Poems was published, "not by
the advice of friends," but the contrary, for the advice was,
"to keep the piece to myself."
Whether this offspring of the
brain can support itself, or whether I have produced a cripple
which cannot make its way through the world, must be left to
the judgment of others.
There is an inconsistency in the character of man. In youth
he sets but a small value upon his property, and is much incliined to spend it, while, having life before him, there is the
.utmost reason to save it for future use; btt in old age, when

300

Life of William Hutton.

he cannot from the shortness of his day use it, he is anxious to
accumulate and keep it. I am strongly tinctured with this
unphilosophical bias; for though in early life I did not spend
money because I had none, yet I am as willing to acquire as if
my date was that of Methusalem.
From early infancy landwas my favourite object, and though
a thousand pounds in the stocks may be as productive as a
thousand in land, yet I should despise the one and grasp at
the other. My desire, like a bottomless pit, cannot be filled.
This year closed with purchasing the manor of Woonton, joining
my own, in Herefordshire.
It is curious to observe the rapid rise of land. I gave for
the land on one side of the hedge in 1795, i11. per acre; and
on the other in I804, 24.
December the 24th died an ingenious artist, Moses Haughton, whose productions as a painter will live longer than he
lived himself, sixty-six years.
He painted nineteen portraits
of my family, five of which were of myself. Eleven of these
portraits embellish the grand manuscript copy of my own
History, and that of my family, in my son's library. His son
has erected a beautiful monument to his memory in St. Philip's
Church, in which is exhibited a medallion of statuary marble,
with an excellent likeness of the father in basso-relievo.
18o5.
Nothing occurred this year except another journey to Scarborough. I believe it will be my last. I found greater difficulty
in performing the walking part of it from Sheffield to Scarborough than before.
i806.
The efforts of memory are surprising. I can remember my
mother dandling me on the knee, feeding me with the infant
spoon, and nursing me in the arms. I also remember the form
and colour of my dress.
But although eighty-two years have
passed by, yet that space of time seems amazingly short; the
reason is obvious, memory only brings the two points of then
and now into view, and skips over every incident between the
two. But when we look forward, if but for one year, the time
appears lorig, because we foresee an infinite number of incidents
between the two points,

Life of William Hitton.

301

In February I ate a dinner which proved too rich for the
stomach to digest. It produced a slight surfeit; the first indisposition during twenty-three years.
A few weeks after, I
was attacked with a violent fit of the ague. These gave a
shock to the constitution, which it perhaps will never recover.
Twice in the winter, in reading by candle-light, I set fire to the
book by holding it too near the blaze, my sight failing.
April 4, I walked from Bilsdon in Leicestershire to Atherstone, thirty-two miles, which I accomplished with tolerable
ease, but believe it will be my last material walk.
I was never more than twice in London on my own concerns.
The first was April 8, 1749, to make a purchase of materials
for trade, to the amount of Three Pounds! The last, April 14,
i8o6, fifty-seven years after, to ratify the purchase of an estate
which cost 11,5901. One laid a foundation for the other,
and both answered expectation.
1807.

Of all the afflictions attendant upon the human frame, the
cancer stands in the first class. It is generally terminated by
death or the knife. About the year 1777, a small exuberance
appeared on the top of my thigh, which, after ten years' growth
was not bigger than a large pin's head, and of no consequence.
During the next ten years it grew to the size of a pea, looked
angry, and exuded a small degree of moisture. But not being
painful, or impeding action, it was disregarded. As time advanced, it proceeded with greater rapidity till about 1804,
when it had reached the size of a shilling, and discharged
copiously a watery fluid. I consulted an eminent surgeon, who
said, "I do not like its appearance. Perhaps it may not shorten
your life, but you had better let me take it out." Upon consulting a physician, he replied, " There is no immediate danger,
Two years
but there is a chance of its 1becoming a cancer."
elapsed, when I showed it again, now as large as a half-crown,
to the surgeon, my worthy friend John Blount. It appeared
with horrid aspect. In surprise he pronounced it a cancer.
"You must," said he, "submit to the knife or the coffin. You
may live one year, or you may live one month, but the whole
of your existence will be miserable." I considered that which
must be done, had better soon be done. February i, two surgeons laid me on a table; in about twenty minutes finished the

30 2

Life of William H

/on.

cutting, and in ten more sewed up, dressed the wound, and
carried me to bed. This I kept about six days. In seven
days more I was able to walk abroad, and in twelve more the
cure was completed.
I paid a visit in July to Bosworth Field, but found so great
an alteration since I saw it in 1788, that I was totally lost.
August 4th, I lost my poor horse Cobbler, at the age of
twenty-two. I considered him as one of my family, had sung
his praise in verse, had fed him with pleasure, and he had
served me fifteen years with fidelity.
If we carry a cheerful face into company, it naturally excites
cheerfulness in that company; we see them pleased, and feel
happy returns in our own bosom. We made a visit to Matlock of about a fortnight, in which we found much delight, and
contracted so many friendships that we were unwilling on all
sides to part.
In the history of my ancestors, I have mentioned that a
person came from Northallerton * to Derby, in about 1701, to
bring my grandfather back to the former place, to take possession of an estate to which he was become heir at law. My
grandfather entertained, and then conducted the messenger
one mile on his return, and dismissed him with this remark
"Let them take the estate who will, I would not go so far for
a better." My daughter wishing to spend a month at Coatham,
in the north of Yorkshire, and Northallerton being nearly in
the road, I requested her to make inquiry after the Hutton
family. It was extinct in that place; but four miles distant, she
found a gentleman resident upon his own estate, who seemed
to be a relation. It is probable, from circumstances, that his
may be the identical land my grandfather refused, but I have
neither the means nor the wish to attempt to recover it.
At the very moment of writing this, time is completing my
84th year: four times the space which forms the man. When
* In 18o8, as noted in his "Trip
to Coatham," Hutton visited Northallerton. " This town," he says, "was, 200o years ago, the residence of
my family. My grandfather's grandfather was a native, and enjoyed the
capital honour of furnishing the place with lats. Walking in the churchyard, it occurred to my thoughts that I might be treading upon the dust of
my ancestors, and being myself indisposed while there, I thought I might
possibly leave my dust to mingle with theirs. I enquired after my relation4,
but found the name was extinct."

Life of William Hutton.

303

I compare the two extremities of this long period, it exhibits a
total change of life and manners. In the morning of my days,
I ate when Fortune chose to suffer me, for she fed me with a
sparing hand; I could at any time have gladly attacked a
second dinner, immediately after a first; but now plenty awaits
me. In that early period I had an utter aversion to letters,
which wholly precluded improvement; but now one of the
greatest pleasures of my life is reading, and I have the gratification of a library to my wish. In former times dress was
eagerly coveted, and not easily attained ? but now, having dress
fully in my power, I have totally lost the relish. Money!
that darling of every one, which buys all things except health
and content, was hidden from my eyes. I once saved every
farthing I could procure, which, at the end of two years
amounted only to fourpence halfpenny! This occurred between the age of four and six. But now I command more
than I can use. Punishment was an unwelcome attendant.
My father, though he loved me, was too much attached to the
whip; he forgot that a gentle word properly applied was a
better excitement. But now I am under no chastisement, no,
not even that of the pen.
The authors of the Monthly Review, criticising my tour
through North Wales, bestow upon the work some encomiums,
after which they remark: " We believe that this veteran traveller
has at length taken a longer journey, the important details of
which he will not transmit to us poor wanderers below." This
occasioned the following :
" To the Authors of the 'Monthly Review.'
" MY DEAR FRIENDS,-I learnt from your Review for the
last month that I was dead. I cannot say I was very sorry,
though I had a great respect for the man. Your kind expressions will not be charged with insincerity, for praise is lost
upon the defunct. You may as well, by these presents, bring
me to life in your next, for till then I cannot attain my former
rank among the living. Your fiat musters my friends about
me, some in tears, but all terminates with a smile. Others, as
I walk the street, cast at me a significant glance, as if surprised
to see me above ground, and uncertain whether the ghost or
the body moves, but a moment determines that the ghost holds
its proper place. Three verses addressed to you, inoffensive as

Life of William Hutton.

304

your own remark, will probably be found in the Gentleman's
.Magazine.
"I am, with sincere respect,
"Yours, till a second death,
" W.

HUTTON.

" From my Shades, at Bennet's Hill,
near Birmingham, Aug. 13, 18o7."
"IN

THE

'GENTLEMAN'S

MAGAZINE.'

" To the Autzors of the 'Monthly Review.'

"No wonder a man, when his courtship is o'er,
Should enter his name a wed-man ;
The wonder consists, when a man is no more,
He should still write his name though a dead-man.
"Your work for July tells the world that I'm dead,
And have ceased to become an inditer,
But, by praising my book, it will rather be said,
That you keep me alive as a writer.
" Shall I drop the pen who am but eighty-four,
And smother a tale if worth telling?
I have long'd and still long to take one journey more,
And foot it to Johnny Groat's dwelling.
"Aug. 12, 1807."

In the next number the reviewers published my letter with
the following remark :-" We insert the above with much
pleasure; and as we have now a contradiction of the report to
which we alluded, under our venerable friend's own hand, we
will engage, if he requires it, never again to state an event which
we hope is yet distant, till we have, in like manner, his own
certificate of it."
This year my son gave me my birthday dinner, and with the
dessert my daughter presented to me the following lines, which,
I must own, are more remarkable for affection than elegance:" DEAR FATHER,-

" Allow me to congratulate you and myself on your birthday;
The interest we feel for your life and health will make it a
mirth-day.
Eighty-five times have you seen the i ith of October.
You have risen from poverty, and lived in plenty, with a mind
always sober.

Life of William Hultton.

.305

You have lov'd your children, indulg'd your household, and
never treated us with rigour.
You have kept your health and good humour, and still retain
your vigour.
May God, of His infinite mercy, long spare these blessings,
And I promise you, my dear father, you shall not want for
caressings.
I should have acquitted myself better had it been my lot to
make your plum-pudding,
For writing verses is a thing I never could do any good in.
If they are not poetry, they are truth, so I don't care a button,
And am your most affectionate daughter,
CATHERINE HUTTON."
1808.

Time is equivalent to money. I remarked, in the " History
of the Riots," in '79 I , that I had lost more than one day in a
week during nineteen years, in serving the public. It follows
that I have lost a fortune by acting for the benefit of others.
Perhaps there is not one in ten thousand who lives to the
age of eighty-five, but where is there one who, at that age, begins
to write a book ? I launched into authorship at the late period
of fifty-six, a season in which most writers land on the shore of
retirement; but as I began late, suffer me to retire late. Had
I, instead of being bred in the cold damps of penury, been
trained to letters, more than fourteen books would have issued
from my pen. I never wrote for profit, and yet the world has
amply rewarded me; nay, the pen itself has rewarded its own
labour, for the pleasure of writing is inconceivable.
August 7, this year, my daughter and I set out for Coatham,
a watering-place upon the northern coast of Yorkshire, distant
184 miles.
We were absent six weeks; and I am now writing
the memoirs of that excursion, which will make the fourteenth
book I shall have published in the period of thirty years.
As this is the last I shall exhibit to the world, I will particularise each, with the name and date; some of them, I believe,
are out of print:
The History of Birmingham .

Journey to London .......
The Court of Requests ....
The Hundred Court .......

.

.

178i

.

1784
1787

1788

306

Life of William Hutton.

. 1788
History of Blackpool ....
Battle of Bosworth Field
789
History of Derby
......
1790
The Barbers, a Poem . . . ..
1793
Edgar and Elfrida, a Poem
1793
180I
The Roman Wall
Remarks upon North Wales
I801
Tour to Scarborough ...
..
1803
Poems, chiefly Tales .....
1804
Trip to Coatham . . . . . . . 18o8
Some of them have since risen to double their original price.

1

1809
The infirmities of age inform me that I am drawing towards
a conclusion. Much has been said, but little is known, of
futurity. The subject is too deep to be fathomed, but none
can escape the trial.
When a man is ushered into the world, he possesses talents
fitted for that world. He knows many, he converses with many,
and is a man among men; but when he draws towards eighty
or ninety his talents become blunted, his vivacity is lost, his
powers are fled, his former acquaintance are swept off the stage,
he cannot associate with new, and he is no longer a man among
men.
I have lived to bury two generations, and among them
many friends whom I loved. I do not know, nor am known by,
any soul living prior to my twenty-seventh year. But, although
I barely live myself, I may have taught others to live. I was
the first to open a CirculatingLibrary in Birmingham, in 175 i,
since which time many have started in the race. I was the
first who opened a regular Paper Warehouse, in 1756; there are
now a great number. I was also the first who introduced the
barrowwith two wheels; there are now more than one hundred.
I may, in another view, have been beneficial to man by a life
of temperance and exercise, which are the grand promoters of
health and longevity. Some whom I know have been induced
to follow my example, and have done it with success.
The entertainment we met with at Coatham last year, induced'us this year to make another visit to the same place.
We began our journey with a design of being absent six weeks,
as before, which was effected. Some circumstances of this

Life of William Hutton.

307

second visit will be found in the Trip to Coatham, now in the
press.
While travelling between Derby and Burton, I remarked to
my daughter, " That we were at that moment passing over
the identical spot of ground, on the same month of the year,
the same day of the month, the same day of the week, and
hour of the morning, on which I had travelled over it sixtyeight years before; but with this difference, I then walked in
the bloom of eighteen, but now moved in the withering age of
eighty-six. Then I appeared as a runaway apprentice, but
now as a gentleman. Then I travelled with blistered feet, but
now at ease in my own carriage."
I8

o.

A faithful friend is a real treasure. His sensations are
mine. If he is wounded, I am hurt. By his cares mine are
reduced. His happiness augments mine. Friendship is a
partnership of sentiment, and one that is sure to profit, for by
giving we are gainers.
May 5 th, I lost my valuable and worthy friend, William
Ryland,* after an intimate connexion which continued, without
the least interruption, more than 59 years. While bachelors
we daily sought each other out. While passing through the
married state, which continued with each about 40 years, the
same friendly intercourse continued; and while widowers, the
affection suffered no abatement, the secrets of one were the
secrets of both. His life was a continued series of vivacity, good
humour, and rectitude. I have reason to believe he never did
a bad act knowingly, or uttered a bad word.
A man may have many friends, but seldom has, at the same
time, more than one bosom friend; the cabinet is generally
fitted for one jewel only. In taking a retrospective view of a
protracted life, I find six of these cabinet counsellors, from
whom nothing was hidden; five were separated by removal
of place, and one by death.
We took, this year, a third journey of six weeks, into the
* William Ryland, of whom Hutton has so often made mention in this
work, was originally a buckle-plater, at a time when buckles were a
necessary portion of dress, and at that, and other branches of industry,
amassed a princely fortune. He was a man of much energy and perseverance, and of excellent business qualifications.
X2

308

Life of William Huttoan.

north of Yorkshire ; but the hotel at Coatham being shut up,
we took up our residence at the Red Lion, Redcar, and were
completely accommodated. My "Trip to Coatham" had
made its appearance about a month, and attracted some
notice, and I respectfully accepted as much praise as the company chose to give. Mr. Christopher, bookseller at Stockton,
told me he had purchased ioo copies, and did not doubt the
sale.
The ladies were intent upon scrutinizing the characters
mentioned, page 128 of that work, and thought they had
succeeded in making every cap fit the proper head, except the
widow with 7 00ool. a year, which set them fast.
Passing through Derby, Aug. 23, I saw workmen taking
down an old house, between the Town Hall and the Corn
market, which brought to remembrance that eighty-five years
before, when I was two years old, I went to school in that
house with my brother, one year older, both in petticoats, John
Jackson master. I saw the very room, a chamber, laid open.
I recollected that the servant-maid took, and brought us back.
On market-days she brought our dinner to school, and I well
remember we had buttered oat-cakes. This little anecdote,
which shows the extent of memory, should have appeared in
1725, but was not recollected. Perhaps I am the only man
who had seen this house eighty-five years before, and who saw
its end.
The workmen found a bottle of red port, of a remarkably
fine flavour, under some rubbish.
I was present at a dispute whether this spirited bottle had
slept in silent security fifty or one hundred years ? But the
important question could not be determined.
At the age of eighty-two I considered myself a young man.
I could, without much fatigue, walk forty miles a day. But,
during the last six years, I have felt a sensible decay; and,
like a stone rolling down the hill, its velocity increases with
the progress. The strings of the instrument are, one after
another, giving way, never to be brought into tune.
My father died of the gravel and stone at the age of sixtyseven; his brother of the same disorder, at fifty-one. I first
perceived the gravel at twenty-seven, but it was for many years
of little consequence. In 1804 I went to Worcester, to the

Life of William Hutton.

309

sale of an estate; which being ended, I spent the evening with
five or six gentlemen, all strangers to me. The conversation
turning upon the above complaint, I remarked that, during the
last twenty or thirty years I had been afflicted with the gravel,
and had had three or four fits every year, which continued,
with excruciating pain, from one to four or five days. "I
will," said one of the gentlemen, "tell you a certain cure.
Abstain from spirits, wine, and malt liquor; drink cyder, perry,
or milk; and, although it will not totally eradicate the gravel,
you will never have another fit." I replied, that I never drank
spirituous liquors, and seldom wine, but daily used the produce
of malt ; that, though I had four cyder farms, I could not conveniently be accommodated with cyder or perry, but was fond
of milk.
Though I had but little expectation from this tavern prescription, I have followed it during the last seven years; i
which time I have not drank a quart of malt liquor, or had a
fit of the gravel. The only evil attending this change of beverage is, that, when I call for milk upon a journey, it is apt to
cover my landlady's face with a cloud, but her countenance
brightens up when I pay the price of wine.
Lines written to a gentleman who requested my worthy
friend Mr. Blount, to procure for him a specimen of the
handwriting of Dr. Priestley, Matthew Boulton, Esq.,* and
William Hutton.
Priestley and Boulton, learn'd and sage,
Rank with the foremost of the age;
* Matthew Boulton-of the historical firm of Boulton and Watt, of the
Soho Works, at Birmingham-was originally a humble button-maker, but
was a man of such uncommon intelligence and skill, and of such indomitable energy and perseverance, that he rose to eminence, and became
one of the greatest scientific men of his own or any other age. His
chief aim was the practical introduction of his friend and partner James
Watt's invention of the steam-engine as the great working power of
England, and this was splendidly accomplished. He founded the Soho
Works, at which, among many other important things, gas was first used;

in which coining-for he contracted for the striking of the copper money of
the realm-was made an art; in which plating was perfected ; and in which
a thousand and one inventions and discoveries were made and brought into
active use. Boulton died, in August, 1807, at the ripe age of 81, and his
friend and partner James Watt followed him in August, 1819, in his
eighty-third year.

Life of William Hu/aon.

3 10o

And to such company invite
The man who ne'er was taught to write,
Is like to him, of whom 'tis told,
He dirty farthings mix'd with gold.
Whether my lines are bent or straight,
Excuse the hand of eighty-eight.
No praise can ever be their due;
But my best thanks belong to you.
November

17,

I walked twelve miles with ease.
I812.

In 1742 I attended divine service at Castle Gate Meeting,
in Nottingham. The minister, in elucidating his subject,
made this impressive remark: that it was very probable, in
sixty years every one of that crowded assembly would have
descended into the grave. Seventy years have elapsed, and
there is more reason to conclude that I am the only person left.
This day, October i th, is my birthday. I enter upon my
ninetieth year, and have walked ten miles.
So far William Hutton's autobiography is from his own pen, and it
would be an ungracious and unpardonable act on the part of any editor to
take from, or add to, it one sentence or one single word. It carries up to
his 9oth birthday, on which he, with his never-tiring pen, writes, "This
day, October I Ith, is my birthday. I enter upon my ninetieth year, and
have walked ten miles, "-and this was the last he wrote, or caused to be
entered, in this remarkable book. The conclusion which here follows, and
which gives many particulars of Hutton's life not included in his own
MSS. ; and also gives a circumstantial narrative of the last days of this
wonderful man, are from the pen of his beloved daughter, Catherine
Hutton, who appended them to the second edition, which she carefully
edited.

Life of William Hurton.

31

CONCLUSION,
BY CATHERINE,

DAUGHTER

OF WILLIAM

HUTTON.

MINE is the melancholy task of "laying the cap-stone on the
building." I undertake it with tears to the memory of my
father and friend.
Minute as the foregoing narrative is, I hope a few additional
particulars of its author and subject will not be unacceptable.
These may be the more readily pardoned, as I look upon my
father's history to be the most complete picture of human life,
from its springing into existence to its wearing out by the
natural exhaustion of the vital principle, that ever was drawn
by man; and the few touches that are added will be chiefly
such as mark the progress of decay, and put the finishing stroke
to the whole.
In the year
my father carefully inspected the remains
of the City of Verulam, and had begun a history of that place,
which was undertaken with the same ardour and spirit of
research as his " History of the Roman Wall." This he intended
for his friend Mr. Nichols, but his remarks were destroyed at
the riots, and he could never resume the subject.
In 1796, after we had lost my beloved mother, my father's
affection and mine being less divided, centred more upon each
other. On our journey to Barmouth, it was so evident, that we
were sometimes taken for lavers, and sometimes for husband
and wife. One person went so far as to say to my father, "You
may say what you will, but I am sure that lady is your wife."
At Matlock, at the age of seventy-nine, my father was a
prodigy. He was the first acquaintance and guide of new
comers, and the oracle of such as were established in the
house. Easy and gay, he had an arm for one, a hand for
another, and a smile for all. When he was silent he was
greatly admired for his placid and benign countenance.
At table my father spoke little, but one night after supper he
asked me for a glass of wine. I felt some surprise at the

1791

312

Life of William Hu

hton.

unusual demand, but I poured it out. He drank it, and pushing
his glass to me again, said, "Give me another." "I dare not,
father," said I; " I am afraid it will make you ill." "I tell thee
give me another," said he, smiling ; "it will do me no harm."
I gave it him in silence, and with fear.
The effect of two glasses of wine upon my father's temperate
habit was extraordinary.
He spoke of his former life, he
became animated, his eyes sparkled, his voice was elevated,
every other sound gradually died away. The company looked
at him with astonishment. Those near heard him with
attention, the distant bent forward with anxiety; of twentythree persons at table every one appeared a profound and
eager listener, and in the pauses of my father's voice a pin
might have been heard to fall to the ground.
After my father had published his " Tour to Scarborough"
the principal inhabitants of that place courted his acquaintance.
Several of them visited him, and invited him to their houses.
He was pleased with their attention, but declined their invitations. One of them said to me, "We do not know how to
show our respect for your father. He will not dine with us;
he will not drink with us. Will you tell me what we can do
for him?" I replied that the esteem they had already manifested for my father was all he could desire.
In his eighty-third year my father walked to visit his new
purchase in Leicestershire. On one day, as he has mentioned
in his Narrative, he walked thirty-two miles. On the next he
walked eighteen, which brought him home. I met him as he
entered the house, pale, exhausted, and scarcely able to mount
the stairs. He said it would be the last long walk he should
take, and his prediction was verified.
Nine days after, my father set out for London in a mail coach,
and travelled all night. As soon as he had breakfasted in town,
he walked from Duke Street, Manchester Square, to King
Street in the Borough, to deliver a letter that had been committed to his charge, and then walked back to Duke Street.
We remained in London a week, and my father was walking
the greater part of every day. I endeavoured to convince him
that his strength was less than it had been, and his need of
rest was greater, but he could not be made to comprehend me,
though he exhibited evident marks of fatigue. The effects of
what he called his surfeit still remained, and made him loathe
his food. On his return home he was sick for fourscore miles,

Life of William Huttdon.

313

and tasted nothing the whole way. The confinement of the
coach during so many hours occasioned his legs to swell.
A walking journey was now impracticable.
My father
expressed no desire to go another way, and I thought rest was
better for him than going from home in any way; I therefore
went to Scarborough without him, to the extreme regret of us
both.
On my return I found my father in possession of more
strength, more bulk, more appetite, and more cheerfulness,
than when I went.
At the age of eighty-four my father was in high spirits at
Matlock. He walked and talked with everybody, was caressed
and admired by everybody, was the principal charm of the
society, and the bond that held us together. To be beloved
and reverenced by a man's own family is not always the lot of
eighty-four years, but to be idolized by strangers is a thing
scarcely before heard of.
From Matlock I proceeded to Coatham, and my father
returned home. My account of that place pleased him so
much that the next year he determined to see it himself. We
went together in the carriage. After examining Sandall Castle
he had a bilious attack, and, I believe, never would have reached
Coatham without my nursing and purveying.
Arrived at Coatham my father was well. He conversed,
played his part with the chickens, and two parts with the puddings. He was still determined upon long walks, and I was
anxious to circumvent him. I heard him inquiring the way to
Wilton Castle. I took no notice, but I begged him to go an
airing with me, and I set him down at its foot, leaving him to
walk back at his leisure, and thus cheating him of one half of
the way. He would then walk to Skelton Castle, seven miles
distant, but he was aware of my contrivances, and gave me no
other notice of his intention than by saying, "I shall not ride
with thee to-morrow." I suspected the secret, extorted it from
him, and met him six miles of the way with the carriage. It
was well I did, for he joined me heated and worn down with
fatigue.
My father never having been called upon, during more than
fourscore years, to submit to weakness or inability, pursued a
track he was no longer able to tread, and smiled at my remonstrances. His answer to them was, "I will endeavour to
take care of myself."

314

Life of Williamn Hutton.

On our second journey to Coatham, at the age of eighty-six,
my father always staggered at first getting out of the carriage,
and would probably have fallen if he had not been stopped. I
got out first, and directed the assistants how to proceed, for he
could only bear to receive help in conjunction with his own
strength, and not to have his own strength replaced by that of
another. His health, spirits, and appetite were good. I dreaded
his walking over Marston Moor, thinking it might prove no less
fatal to him than it had done to Prince Rupert, but he came
off with flying colours, and highly delighted with the discoveries
he had made.
At Coatham my father measured himself against what he
was at Coatham last year, and we both grieved to find how
much he had lost.
His sight, his hearing, his strength, both internal and external,
his powers of motion and of conversation, were impaired. He
was still, however, the admiration of a respectable company.
The elderly sought him, and the young, both men and women,
pressed forward to serve him.
The following winter was the first that my father sat whole
evenings by his fireside unemployed, because he could not see
to read or write. He did both at times by the help of a very
glaring lamp, but it was painful to him. He walked daily to
and from Birmingham, and walked about the streets when there,
but he could scarcely rise from his chair without assistance,
and could not bend his arm back to put on or pull off his coat
and waistcoat.
At Redcar, the ensuing summer, my father was generally
silent, except when land was the topic. He sat much in his
own room, in company with a volume of old magazines, but
he was content. He still walked to Marsk, a distance of five
miles, out and in, before breakfast.
In the winter I perceived my father's joints grow stiffer, his
limbs grow weaker. He did not sleep so much or so soundly
as formerly, and his spirits were not low, but gone. Cheerfulness had given place to silence. On the other hand his
appetite was excellent, and, if he had a bad night there remained no traces of it on the following day. He suffered a
fortnight's confinement with a broken shin without injury to
his health, and, in the meantime the shin got well.
During the winter neither my father or myself dared to mention a future journey, a subject that had formerly enlivened

Life of William Hulton.

315

our fireside. In March he said, "Would you venture on
another journey in summer, if we should be no worse than we
are now ?" My reply was, " I should like it." My father said,
" So should I." I had many fears that the journey would be
too much for him, but I was determined not to express them if
he chose to make the trial.
In June my father's faculties remained unimpaired, except
the faculty of comprehending what was said. If there are
nerves which convey ideas to the mind, these nerves were
His body began to bend, his step was
blunted by time.
shortened, his sight was confined to one object at a time, and
frequently to a part even of that.
In July, when we went to Redcar, my father did not know
his weakness till he tried his strength. I do not believe it
would have been possible for him to have got through the
journey, if the coachman's box-coat had not been folded in
the form of a cushion, and laid at his back, which kept him in
a reclining posture; yet he walked a mile and a half on the
sands as soon as he got there.
My father's slowness of speech and apprehension threw him
much out of society at Redcar. In a large company few would
have the patience to wait for his observations, or to make him
a partaker of their own. The man who, two years before, had
been the principal- object of attention, was now seldom addressed by anybody, and, if he spoke, was not heard. We are
no longer estimable in society than while we are capable of
contributing either to its profit or amusement.
There were some strangers, however, who took the trouble
to understand, and who duly appreciated my father. And
there were two sensible interesting young women, Miss Greatheads of Darlington, who had met us one summer by accident,
and two by appointment, who retained all their veneration for
my father, with a mixture of pain for the neglect of some of the
others.
The last evening of our stay at Redcar, the party happened
to be small, and was composed of such as, if this meet their
eye, will not be displeased at my calling them our friends.
He deMy father was again the first person of the company.
sired me to sing the wife's part of Burns's song of " My Spouse,
Nancy," and, at the age of eighty-eight he sung that of the
husband. He went from home no more.
In November my father still rose from his bed without help;

316

Lift of William Huatton.

and bending, and almost tottering under the weight of fourscore and eight years, he walked to Birmingham. When there
he seldom went out, as his sight was so imperfect that he hardly
knew where he was, in streets that he was not accustomed
to.
About four o'clock I saw him approaching his house with a
short step: generally a little fatigued, sometimes a great deal.
After emptying his pockets of newspapers, and of money, if he
had any, if there were a little sunshine left, he read; but that
was now become a great difficulty, even by a good light, and,
by an indifferent one, or by candlelight, it was impossible.
When he could not see to read he dropped into a quiet sleep,
which lasted about half an hour, and greatly refreshed him.
Though my father could not rise from his chair without
assistance if he had sat any time, yet, on the 27th of October,
Sunday, on which day of the week he had ceased to go to Birmingham, his walks round the drive before his door amounted
to ten miles, and on the I8th of November to twelve, taking
three walks each day. He had neither sickness nor pain. He
was fat, looked well, ate well, slept tolerably, and was never
out of humour.
At the age of eighty-nine my father was well in health, and
what was extraordinary at that age, increased in size, but his
infirmities increased also. He still walked to and from Birmingham, and I believed that his walks and his life would
finish nearly together.
Fear and uncertainty had kept us both silent through the
winter respecting another journey; but in April my father
owned that he should like to go to Redcar if he were no worse.
I believed the journey would be of service to him, as it had
been before, if he were able to undertake it; and though I
dared not take the responsibility of an adviser, I was most
willing to encounter the fatigue of a nurse. Silence again
prevailed.
When a month only was wanting of our usual time of setting
out, I broke the spell by saying, " Father, I must write to Miss
Greatheads : what shall I say about our going to Redcar ?"
The question shook his whole frame. It was not, "Shall I,
or shall I not go to Redcar ?" It was, "Am I able to go again
from home, or is my circle brought down for ever to two miles
and a quarter from my own house ?"
After some conversation it was agreed that my father should

Life of William Hutton.

317

take a week to consider of the matter. That expired, I meant
to have asked for his determination, but he prevented me, by
saying that he durst not venture to go.
As my own health required change of air I went to Swansea,
and though I could not leave my father without anxiety, I left
him without terror.
In the manuscript life of my father the handwriting changes
in 18o8, and the lines cease to be straight. In 1809 and i8io
the hand becomes very unsteady, and the pen frequently
touches the paper where it was not intended to do so. In
1811 and 1812 it was scarcely legible, and at the end of each
of these years he made use of my pen to express his thoughts.
The last letter he ever attempted to write was the following,
addressed to me at Swansea; and it was the last time he ever
attempted to write anything but his name.
Bennet's Hill, Aug. 25, 1812.

MY DEAR LOVE,--I have taken up the pen, but know not
how to use it. Things are much as when you left us, except
that we are fifteen days older.
The servants are extremely attentive to me; they forestall
my wishes,
If a worthy man, named William Spencer, should catch
your eye, shake hands with him upon my account. I cannot
W.H.
proceed.
My father had lived to see himself twice in fashion in Birmingham. Till the riots he was courted and respected. For
some time after the riots he was insulted. He was now reverenced and admired. Two portrait-painters in Birmingham
requested him to sit to them, and one of them placed his
Mr. Pratt seeing it
picture in the public library of the town.* To the ineffable disgrace of the institution, this portrait I am told, on
inquiry, has disappeared a long time, having been taken down to be
replaced by that of some other person, and it is not known where it is.
Surely such a liberal minded town as Birmingham ought, as a matter of
public duty to the memory of the man to whom the town owes so much,
both as its historian and as one of the most talented of its brilliantly-gifted
array of inhabitants, to have some portrait, or some statue, of William
Hutton in one of its public buildings. May I hope that the hint I thus
give may be acted upon, and that ere long the town will thus honour the
mian whose career and works are such an honour to it. -L. JEwITT.

3 18

Life of William Hultton.

wrote some very handsome lines underneath, which he desired
might be inserted in the new edition of the History of Birmingham. As that work has met with some interruption, I
shall insert the verses here.
EXTEMPORE LINES,
WRITTEN

UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF WILLIAM HUTTON,
THE LIBRARY, UNION STREET, BIRMINGHAM.

IN

The well-known form, and venerable grace,
Here mark the sage Historian of the place.
Though ninety winters round his reverend head
Have rolled their tempests, and their snows have shed;
And these with Time, imperious Time, combin'd
To waste at once the body and the mind:
This their confederated power defies,
And that the manly action still supplies:
While gently sloping to a soft decay,
We still behold the Nestor of the day!
The Ajax too, for still a native force
Keeps the fair tenour of his daily course.
His morn, his evening walk, preserve their length,
While many a noontide feat of hardy strength
Remains, to show intemperateAge and Youth,
This living moral of eternal Truth,
That, ere to half his honour'd years they come,
Indignant Death shall sweep them to the tomb.
With strangers my father was never out of fashion. While
he was able to walk to Birmingham, he was seated, during a
great part of the day, on a bundle of paper, by the fireside of
my brother's warehouse, which was facing the street door.
This Mr. Pratt called "Mr. Hutton's Throne." No day
passed in which strangers were not observed to pass and
repass several times, looking in, so as to leave no doubt that
their object was to obtain a sight of the Historian of Birmingham.
As my father was to be seen near a door always open, so he
was to be spoken with in a shop always ready to receive
customers; and a multitude of persons, from different parts of
the kingdom, have introduced themselves to him, as readers
and admirers of his works. The late Duke of Norfolk, the late

Life of William Hutton.

319

Mr. Gough,* Dr. Priestley, t Dr. Kippis,4 Mr. Pratt,§ Mr.
Berrington,11 Dr. Mavor,
and Mr. Kemble, " were of the
number. One gentleman presented his son, a child of four
years old, to my father, bidding the boy take especial notice of
Mr. Hutton, that, when he grew old himself, he might remember he had seen him.
After the year I812, my father mentioned his Memoirs no
more.
In his ninetieth year, my father's strength and activity
gradually diminished. He still walked to and from Birmingham, but he was a machine hgrd to set a-going, and, when
going, not to be stopped. The end of his walk became a
short run, in which he leaned forward in proportion to his
velocity. In May he fell several times, but he was desirous to
hide it from his family, because he feared that my brother and
myself might endeavour to throw some obstacles in the way of
his walking.
On Tuesday, the 5th of October, when my father wanted six
days of completing his ninetieth year, he set out on his
accustomed walk to Birmingham. When he had reached half
way, his strength began to fail. When he got into the streets,
his helpless situation attracted the notice of numbers of people,
who offered him their assistance. He was afraid he should
have been overturned by their kindness, for a touch would
have thrown him off his balance. He took the arm of one,
and at length reached the Paper Warehouse, which now
belonged to his grand-nephew, Samuel Hutton. He had been
two hours in walking two miles and a quarter. On his return
he was lifted into his carriage by three men, and out of it by
two. In both cases he was perfectly sensible, silent, passive,
and helpless.
I met my father at his gate, and leaning upon me and a
* Richard

Gough,

F.S.A.,

author

of

"Sepulchral

Monuments,"

" British Topography," &c. &c.
t Dr. Joseph Priestley, already spoken of.
+ Dr. Andrew Kippis, a Dissenting Divine, and editor of "Biographia
Britannica," &c.
§ Of whom some particulars have already been given.
II Mr. Joseph Berrington, a voluminous theological writer.
Dr. William Mayor, author of " Universal History," "British
Tourist," "Mavor's Spelling Book," &c. &c.
** John Philip Kemble.

320

Life of William Hutton.

servant, he walked into the house. "Now," said he, bursting
into tears, " I have done with Birmingham !" Too surely did
I believe him, and most sincerely did I weep with him !
My father had always a surprising facility in recovering
fatigue. Rest was sure to succeed it immediately, and the
happy consequences of rest were soon visible.
The three following days my father accomplished several
walks in his own ground, without difficulty; on the Saturday,
therefore, he ventured to walk to the nearest part of the town,
which is only a mile and a half from his house. He performed
it with ease. He returned half-way tolerably well, when he
began to run backwards, aid must have fallen, had not a
woman-servant, whom I had sent to watch him, and whom
he would not have suffered to be so near him had he
known it, caught hold of him. With great exertion on
both sides she led him till they were within three hundred
yards of his own house, when, finding it impossible to proceed any further, she supported him in the best manner she
was able, and sent for a chair, in which he was carried home
by two men. He was the model of Patience when he was set
down.
This was the last walk my father ever attempted out of his
own ground, except to the cottage of my brother, whose
ground and my father's were only separated by the turnpike
road.
My father was totally free from pain and uneasiness. He
moved round and round his gravel walk, being careful to
accomplish his Birmingham distance, and his mind accommodated itself to a small circle when a larger one was no longer in
his power.
In January, 1814, my father was attacked with the cramp.
He was frequently obliged to be got up, after having been one,
two, or three hours in bed, and to pass the remainder of
the night in a chair. As soon as he quitted the recumbent
posture, the pain left him. He dozed through the day, and
hung his head almost to his knees as he sat upon his chair.
It was melancholy to contemplate the ruins of a strong man,
and most melancholy when that man was my father.
My father's pain went with the frost. He was again in
perfect health, slept quietly, ate manfully, and walked three
miles a day in his kitchen, but his limbs performed their offices
slowly, and with difficulty. His mental faculties had not

Life of William Hullon.

321

suffered, and I would have taken his judgment, or trusted his
memory, rather than my own.
Summer renewed my father's life. It took him again into
the air, and brought with it the enjoyment, though not the
strength, of the preceding summer. On the Ist of August I
left him, with a view of passing a month at Malvern Wells. I
believed it would be the last time I should leave him.
On Thursday the IIth, I received a letter from my brother.
I opened it with suspense, bordering upon terror, and was not
able to fix my eye upon the beginning. The first that caught
my sight was the end, " If you do not come home, I shall
write again in a post or two." It was enough. I left the room,
and when I was able to read my letter, I found it in substance
as follows:
My father had dined at the cottage on Sunday in good
health. On Monday he had eaten but little, and had had no
sleep during the night. On Tuesday he had fallen three times,
and had persisted in walking, notwithstanding the entreaties
of those about him, saying, " If I once give up my walking,
I shall never recover it again." In the night of Tuesday he
had raved and talked incessantly, and twice got out of bed,
though he was not able to stand. Three times he vomited.
At five o'clock on Wednesday morning he was quite still, and
the attendants believed him dying. At twelve o'clock on
Wednesday, when the letter was written, my father was got up,
and was better, but my brother concluded his account by
saying, " Ho can we expect a return to health at ninety-one ?"
I was in my gig before six o'clock the next morning, and at
home before eight in the evening.
I passed the day in sad composure, prepared to undergo all
the fatigue my nature could support on the road, and all the
sorrow that might await me at home. I neither felt pain nor
hunger. Food did not seem necessary to my existence.
As I passed through the village near our house, I expected
every moment that some kind neighbour would stop me, to tell
me of my father's death; and as soon as the house was in
view, I looked for the same intelligence through an open
window.
I found my father dressed, and sitting on the sofa.
The scenes that had presented themselves to my father's
imagination during the tumult of nature made a more vivid and
lasting impression on his mind than if they had been real. The
Y

322

Life of William Huzaon.

day after I came home he amused himself with relating therrr
to me.
" I was in the Narrow Marsh, in Nottingham," said my father,
' in a room where twelve men were drinking and smokig;. I
remember their faces well, and even their clothes, though) they
were all strangers to me. The cause of our meeting was to fixthe price of frame-work hose. When the business was dis
cussed, they divided into parties of three or four, and I got:
into a boat, and sailed among them. At first the motion was;
delightful; but I was soon carried on with such rapidity, that I
was in the utmost terror lest I should run foul of some of the
men. By great good luck, however, my boat, though going
with prodigious swiftness, crossed from one side of the room to
the other, and I missed them all."
A thought instantly struck me, on mention of the boat.
" Pray," said I to my brother, "what had my father for dinner
on Sunday?"
" Harico of mutton and gooseberry-pudding ;.and he ate:
very heartily."
"Then," said I, "the whole is accounted for. He haseaten a dinner he could not digest; he has retained it with,
increasing misery; the motion of the boat was occasioned by
sickness; when the stomach was relieved of its burden my
father sunk into repose, and was supposed to be dying, and he
has been recovering ever since."
The apothecary whom I sent for confirmed all I had said,
and added that my father would be as well as before, which
was really the case.
This event altered my opinion of the probable duration of
my father's life. The preceding winter I had been under daily
apprehensions of discovering some symptom that might indicate
a speedy change; but now, having weathered such a storm, I
concluded he had great internal strength left, and I was blind
to danger when it actually stared me in the face.
My father was now well, but so infirm that he could not sit
down on his chair, or lie down on his bed, or rise from either,
without assistance. He continued his walks in the kitchen,
but they were performed with difficulty, and not without danger.
On the i.th, the z9 th, and the 24th of December my father
fell. By one fall he was not hurt, by another his hip was bruised,
by another he received a severe contusion over the eye; but
nature still retained her happy propensity to make all well

Life of William Hutton.

323

Again. In these repeated falls my father never uttered cry or

groan. He lay immovable till he could be lifted up, and the
calm character of his countenance was never disturbed. These
warnings were too many to be slighted. Such a number of
falls could only proceed from the utter inability of the frame to
support itself. He walked no more alone, but leaned on the
arm of a servant.
In the winter my father had frequent returns of the cramp.
A frost never failed to bring it, and a thaw generally took it
away. Not being able to pass the night in a chair, as he had
done the last winter, he lay in bed, groaning under excruciating
and irremediable pain.
The temporary alienation of mind under which he had
laboured in August now attacked my father at intervals, but only
in the night. It was not delirium, it was not insanity, it was
not childishness; it was a kind of illusion. Imaginary objects
presented themselves before his eyes, and made a much stronger
impression upon his mind than those he really saw. In the
dead of night he saw candles burning in the room, though
there was no light but the fire; and a number of persons conversing together, though there was no one but the servant who
attended him.
My father's belief in these appearances was firm, and he related them to me as facts, with a fluency of speech that he was
not capable of at any other subject. Sometimes they were
ludicrous. I shall give one in his own words as a specimen.
On the 14th of January, I815, my father said, "I observed
one thing this morning that I never saw before. You know
the fire draws everything into its vortex. I got into the current, and it drew me towards itself, in spite of all my resis
tance ; and, when I got near, it turned me half round, and
seated me on the fire !"
"You found it a warm seat, did not you ?" said I.
"Yes," replied my father, " I made an effort, and got off immediately. One does not like to sit upon the fire, if it be only
a few embers."
" I suppose," said I, "you are now convinced that it was not
really so."
"I am as sure as I live," replied my father, in a tone of reproach for my incredulity, "that it was so."
I could have wept at this wavering of a noble mind, and I
I did
could have laughed at the oddity of the incid6nt.
Y

2

324

Life of William Hutton.

neither; I proceeded seriously to show my father that he was
mistaken. He listened, doubted, inquired, and was convinced
he had been deceived. In consequence of my pursuing this
method, his doubts arose before he communicated his visions
to me; and he asked whether the circumstances he detailed were
truth or fiction. Sometimes he would say, " I do not see how
this could have happened : yet everything appeared so perfect
at the time, that I was assured of its reality." He was always
disturbed by these imaginations, and restored to serenity when
I had convinced him that they were not truths.
In March the cramp and the illusions quitted my father.
After his morning walk he came up weary, grew sleepy, and
was laid down on his bed, where he rested quietly. In the
evening my brother passed two hours with us, and reading and
conversation amused my father. He made judicious remarks
on the one, and joined in the other occasionally, though not in
a very articulate voice. At ten o'clock he was undressed and
lifted into bed, where he could not turn himself, however uneasy
he riight lie.
In May my father's estates in Herefordshire were in a perplexing situation, and my brother was in Loidon. One tenant
paid no rent, and answered no letter that was sent to demand
it; another had lately entered on his farm, and wanted a reduction of rent; and another wished to transfer his lease to a
new tenant; repairs, too, were wanting. My father was conscious of his own inability to manage these matters, and his
mind was struck with the dread of misfortune, without being
capable of ascertaining whence it might arise. He grew hot
and restless, passed many nights wholly without sleep, and part
of them in great confusion; became thinner, paler, and had not
so good an appetite. His legs, which hitherto had preserved
their shape and bulk, now shrunk. Notwithstanding all this,
he still walked, and summer had taken him from the kitchen
into the open air.
I am inclined to think that a natural decay and the untoward
circumstances of the Herefordshire farms operated upon each
other; that the vexation would not have produced such violent
effects if life had not been drawing near its close; and that life
would not have ebbed away so rapidly if it had not been for
the anxiety.
I looked upon winter as the season when my father's dissolution would take place, because he had recovered a greater

Life of Williamn Hutton.

325

degree of health in the two preceding springs, and I think
that nature made several efforts now to heal the wounds that
had been made, but they were counteracted by fresh incidents.
In June my father performed no action of his life without
assistance, except carrying a spoon to his mouth. His walks
were reduced to a quarter of a mile each, but he took four in
the day. He passed the greatest part of the afternoon, as well
as the morning, on his bed.
I now perceived a wheezing, a cough, and a shortness of
breath after getting upstairs. As soon as I heard these I knew
they were the ministers of death, the agents appointed to convey
my father to another world, though I could not guess at the
time they would take in performing their office.
On the 26th of July I set out for Malvern Wells. I knew I
should be within call; I believed my father in no immediate
danger; I consigned him to the care of persons I could trust;
I thought my own health required change of air, and that it
was necessary to arm me for the mournful scenes I might have
to go through.
I returned home on the 24 th of August, and found my father
thinner, weaker, and more spiritless than I left him. How far
he had felt my absence I know not. I rather think nature was
so far worn out that it did not afford him matter of lasting
regret. When I had been gone three weeks he said to the
person who attended him in my place, "Our folks" (meaning
me and the servant) "will be at home to-morrow." " No,"
replied she, "you know they were to stay a month." My father
said, "Is a month so long ?"
From my return on the 24th of August to the
of
September my father declined apace. He took a very small
quantity of food, and did not relish even that. He was a
shorter time out of his bed, and did not rest so well when in it.
He had great difficulty in uttering the few sentences he spoke,
and we had not less in understanding them. His cough was
become extremely troublesome. He listened with attention to
the anecdotes I related of Malvern, and when I told him that
Lady Gresley had expressed a desire of being introduced to
me because I was his daughter, he said, "It is a feather in my
c4p."
For some time past my father had found it extremely difficult
to lower his foot, so as to touch the first stair; on Thursday,

13th

Life of William Hultton.

326

14th

the
of September, he found it impossible. He stood,
holding by the bannisters, and could not move. The servant
who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs came up, and,
laying hold of the leg, endeavoured to make the foot descend ;
it was not to be done. I led my father back.
During the last week my father had several times expressed
a wish to see his friend and apothecary, Mr. Blount, particularly
on account of his cough. As I was assured that my father's
case was out of the reach of medicine, and no less certain that
when he ceased to cough he must die, I delayed sending for
Mr. Blount. Yesterday I had sent for him, and this evening
he came.
My father's purpose was now evident, though his explanation
of it was very inarticulate. It was to ascertain positively whether
there were any hope of relief, or whether he were arrived at
that stage of existence where hope is extinct. While Mr. Blount
was feeling his pulse my father said to him, I suppose I am
worn out ?" Mr. Blount's answer was, " No, not yet."
On Friday, the I5th, my father performed his four accustomed
walks round the circle of a quarter of a mile each, but with
great exertion and fatigue. I had not the least apprehension
of the melancholy catastrophe that was approaching. On
Saturday, the I6th, my father had had a very restless night.
He took his first walk round the circle, and came in very much
wearied and out of breath, though not more so than I had seen
him before. He was put into bed, and slept as usual. He was
roused to his dinner, but did not attempt to go downstairs.
He ate only two small apples made into sauce, which I gave
him with a spoon. I offered him minced beef, cream cheese,
and preserved fruit. At last he said rather hastily, "I have no
appetite, and I'll eat nothing more !" expression that was
an
fatally verified.
I led my father to the top of the stairs on his way for his
second walk, and with great hesitation and tardy movements
he got to the bottom. I then placed myself at a window that
overlooked his promenade. I watched him with silent anguish
as he was gently hauled along by the servant. His countenance
was pale, his chin rested on his bosom, his body was bent, and
he was scarcely able to drag one leg after the other.
When my father was going his second round, the servant,
who had lived with him twenty years, who had been his faithful
attendant in every journey he had taken during that period,

"

L0 q/ Williani Huton,

32 /

and whom he had treated as a friend, looked up to nie, and
shook his head, saying in a voice understood by me, though
not by my father, "Very bad !" I went down immediately.
" Father," said I, " I am afraid you are tired; you had better
not go your six times round." " I am tired," replied he, " but
I will go one more, however !" That one was his last. He was
brought into the house quite exhausted.
I placed a chair
behind him, and he was let down upon it.
Having rested a few minutes, my father got upstairs-to go
down no more.. By the time he could be laid in bed he was
in such agony that he groaned aloud, and exclaimed, " Oh!
God, think on me !" He did not rest, being harassed by a
perpetual cough. At the end of two hours he was, at his own
desire, taken out of bed. It was now the time of his third
walk, and as I believed that his doors were for ever shut upon
his walks, I asked if he would take a turn in the next room.
He said, "I'll try. '
A woman servant led my father by both hands, and I
supported him on the back. His feet could not be gotten into
anything like a perpendicular line with his body. When we
were returning he cried, " I am got to my last; I cannot walk
another step !" By our taking almost all his weight he reached
his chair, but, as it had a small footstep, we were not able to
place him in it. My brother, who then entered the room, tried
to lift the foot so that it might stand upon the step-it was
immovable. My father was then seated on his chair by my
brother and myself taking him under each arm, and the servant
lifting his knees. When he sat his legs shot forward. The
joints of his knees bent no more!
My father's breathing was so short and difficult, that we were
not without apprehensions that every breath might be his last.
Every breath was an agony, and attended with a cough, an
unavailing effort to bring up the mucus that oppressed him.
The struggle occasioned a fever.
My eyes were now completely open to the event that was
approaching. A waistcoat was laid for my father to wear the
next day. "No," said I, "take it away, he will never want a
waistcoat more." I knew he had nothing to do but to perform
the last sad task of mortality-to die.
My father articulated nothing but a very indistinct "Good
night, my love," to me. His groaning and coughing continued
all night, with very little intermission.

32 8

Life of William Hutton.

On Sunday the I 7th, about nine o'clock, he was carried in
his bed-clothes to the sofa. He passed the day in coughing
and groaning, and about three o'clock he cried out, in agony,
"Oh! God, relieve me!" He sucked half a peach with
avidity, saying, " It will give me cold." "Do you want cold ?"
said I. He answered, "Yes."
I think, after this day, the bitterness of death was over. At
seven o'clock in the evening my father was carried to bed, as
he had been taken from it, in the bed-clothes, he did not cry
out nor groan during the whole night, and nothing seemed to
disturb him.
On the morning of Monday, my brother read to my father
for I believe two hours. When he was asked if he chose to
have the reading continued, he answered, "Yes."
But,
whether he understood what was read, whether the voice
soothed him, or whether it was a mechanical fondness for a
book that still remained, I am not able to determine.
My father drank more than a quart of milk in the course of
the day. He remained in bed till seven o'clock in the evening,
when he was carried to the sofa, where he continued about an
hour and a half. He lay awake till about two in the morning,
with little coughing or groaning. It is believed he slept
a little about three. He slept no more.
I went to my father at seven o'clock in the morning of
Tuesday the I 9 th, and found him in a bath with excessive
perspiration. He looked red, he felt hot, and he breathed
very short and hard. He was supported by bolsters. As
hitherto the best repose he had taken had been in the natural
posture of laying down, I had the bolsters removed, and himself laid down gently. But no sooner had his head sunk on
the pillow, than he cried, "I shall be dead ! I shall be dead !"
He was instantly raised up, to lie down no more.
About ten o'clock my father spoke for a considerable time,
as if he were uttering connected sentences, but my utmost
efforts could not distinguish what he said. He discovered a
great desire to make himself understood, and some disappointment when he found he could not.
I wept violently. "Father," said I, "you are very ill; it
grieves my heart to see you so." He said, "There is only
one pinch more to come." He then made me comprehend
that he wished to be moved to the sofa.
From this time till half-past two o'clock he was placed

Life of William Huitton.

329

against the end, the corner, and the back of the sofa, by turns,
as he exhibited symptoms of restlessness. He could not
articulate his words, and my brother and I, who attended him,
had great difficulty in finding out his wants. He was perfectly
sensible, but took little notice of what was passing in his room.
He drank a little milk, and nothing else.
At three o'clock my father was shaved as he sat bolstered up
on the sofa, and he stretched his under-lip while its beard was
taken off.
From about half-past two o'clock till ten at night, my father
neither moved head nor foot, and his looks seemed to say,
" Do not move me." His eyes were open during the whole
time, and sometimes wandered round in a manner not usual to
him. His breath was excessively hard, quick, and short, but
his countenance was composed and he neither coughed nor
groaned. Once I asked him if he sat easy? His answer was
" O yes." He spoke no more. Believing his end approaching, my brother and I determined not to remove our father if
he remained at ease. But between ten and eleven, when I had
placed his bolsters in a manner that I thought calculated to
afford him more support, he began to discover symptoms of
uneasiness. Shocked at the idea of his having a hard sofa for
his place of repose through the night, I insisted upon his being
put into bed. He suffered very little by the removal.
I looked at my father's pale countenance, and open unmeaning eyes, and wished him, what I knew he could not have, a
good night. He seemed insensible of the vain wish.
Samuel Hutton, the grand-nephew of my father, and the
present possessor of his house and business at Birmingham, a
most deserving young man, who reverenced my father as a
parent, and by whom he was beloved as a son, earnestly
entreated permission to sit up with his uncle. After making
every arrangement that I thought could contribute to the comfort of both, I left them.
My cousin did not perceive any alteration in my father
during the night. He quitted the room at half-past five o'clock
in the morning, and a woman servant, who had been accustomed to attend my father, took his place.
At half-past five in the morning of Wednesday the 20th of
September, the servant observed a slight convulsion in my
father's legs. This lasted about a minute and returned twice
afterwards. A little before six his breath was heard in his throat.

330

Life of William Hutiton.

About a quarter before seven the servant frequently cast her
eyes upon her master, and thought he breathed rather quicker
and shorter. Soon after she observed him open his mouth, as
if gasping a very little for breath. He did not do this more
-than six times. There was, at this time, such long intervals
between each breath, that she tried to hold her own breath so
long, and could not. She then thought the breath had
stopped, but was not certain: she put her ear to the face, and
could not hear it. She called the man-servant, who ran up
stairs instantly, and said his master was gone.
The tidings were soon brought to me. I rushed into my
father's room half dressed and half frantic. He was sitting in
bed exactly as I had left him. Not a thread that was near
him had been disturbed. I remember his fixed eyes and his
pale serene countenance. I kissed his warm forehead, but I
know not what I said.
Bitter sorrow has been my portion while I have been tracing
the events of the last four days.
Perhaps I have been too circumstantial in my relation of
my father's decease. To die is the lot of every man, and my
father has done no more ; but Mr. Blount said that it seldom
happened to a medical practitioner to witness such a case: a
human being quitting the world from the natural and total
wearing out of the structure, without any mixture of disease.
If this and the interest my father may have excited in the
course of his narrative, do not make my apblogy, I have greatly
erred.
Since I have lost my father, reflection has pointed out many
things left undone that I ought to have done; but I do not
recollect any that I did, and ought not to have done, or that I
did not do to the best of my power. I have the satisfaction of
his own testimony in my favour. He has said to me more
than once, "It is impossible to be better nursed than I am."
He said once, "Thou dost all thou canst to smooth the
rugged way I have to go." And he said once, "I was thinking
a few days ago what faults thou hadst." " Pray, father," said I,
" do not think too much on that subject." Without noticing
my interruption, he added in solemn manner, " To my great
satisfaction I could find none."
I am not so infatuated as to believe I have no faults. I
know them, and I feel them; but I am grateful to Almighty
God that my parent's fondness could cover them.

Life of William Hutton.

331

I shall be censured for reciting my own praises. Be it so.
They are the praises of my father, and I will not lose an atom
of them.
My father recollected with gratitude to Providence the
success that had crowned the exertions of his youth. "How
thankful ought I to be," he would say, "for the comforts that
surround me. Where should I have been now if I had
continued a stockinger ? I must have been in the workhouse.
They all go there when they cannot see to work. I have all I
can wish for. I think of these things every day."
My father seldom spoke of his death; but I have reason to
believe he constantlywatched its approach, and was sensible of
every advance he made towards it. Some expressions I have
mentioned tend to prove this; and while I was at Malvern he
said to his attendant, " I shall not be long for this world."
My father has delineated his own character in the history he
has written of his life. Little more remains to be said, and I
hope that little will not be too much.
I think the predominant feature in my father's character was
the love of
No quarrel ever happened within the sphere
of his influence, in which he did not act the part of a mediator,
and endeavour to conciliate both sides; and, I believe, no
quarrel ever happened where he was concerned, in which he
did not relinquish a part of his right. The first lessons he
taught his children were, that the giving up an argument was
meritorious, and, that having the last word was a fault.
My father's love of peace made him generally silent on those
inexhaustible subjects of dispute and animosity, religion and
politics. His sufferings at the riots drew his sentiments from
him, and he gave them without reserve. They will be found
too liberal for the present day. Public opinion, like the
pendulum of a clock, cannot rest in the centre. From the
time of the riots it has been verging towards bigotry and
slavery. Having reached its limits, it will verge towards the
opposite extremes, infidelity and anarchy. Truth is the centre;
and, perhaps, my father's opinions may not have been wide of
the mark.
The few lessons of good breeding that reached my father in
early life were never forgotten by him. His friend Mr. Webb
had said, "Billy, never interrupt any person who is speaking."
My father was a patient hearer. He waited till his turn came;
and frequently, in the clamour of a public table, his turn did

_peace.

332

Life of William Hutton.

not come, and what he had to say was lost. I never knew him
make one of two persons speaking together. He did not
begin till another had ended, and he stopped if another began.
My father's conduct towards his children was admirable.
He allowed us a greater degree of liberty than custom gives to
a child; but if he saw us transgressing the bounds of order, a
single word, and that a mild one, was sufficient to bring us
back. He strongly inculcated the confession of an error. A
fault acknowledged was not merely amended : in his estimation
it almost became a virtue.
My father was an uncommon instancQ of resolution and
perseverance, and an example of what these can perform.
Another, I might almost say, every other, would have sunk
under supposed inability when he was falling to the ground;
and would, therefore, have been irrecoverably in bed, while he
was still walking. My father was so tenacious of his activity
and independence, that he performed every one of his accustomed actions till it was not possible for him to do it once
more. I have no doubt that he prolonged his powers and his
life by these exertions. The ill consequences of exercise are
precarious, those of sitting still are certain.
My father was nearly five feet six inches in height, well
made, strong, and active; a little inclined to corpulence, which
did not diminish till within four or five months of his death.
From this period he became gradually thin. His countenance
was expressive of sense, resolution, and calmness; though
when irritated or animated he had a very keen eye. Such was
the happy disposition of his mind, and such the firm texture of
his body, that ninety-two years had scarcely the power to alter
his features, or make a wrinkle in his face.

THE

END.

ffhI k

Obituary Notice of William Hutton.

33 3

AMONG the obituary notices which appeared on the death of
this remarkable man, were some of great point and excellence,
which well summed up the character of the historian, and placed
his labours in their true light. One of these is the following :
WILLIAM HUTTON, ESQ. F.A.S.S.

Sept. 20. Died at his house, at Bennett's Hill, near Birminghiam, at the age of ninety-two, William Hutton, Esq., the
venerable Historian of Birmingham, and author of various
other works. This gentleman owed much to Nature, and
nothing to Education. He began the world with three guineas
and a half, which he borrowed of his sister; and a chest of old
books, which were sold to him on unlimited credit. Talents,
industry, and economy, three qualities that do not often meet
in the same person jointly, made his fortune. His capacity
was sufficient to embrace three objects at once, and to pursue
them all with avidity and perseverance.
He attended to the
minutest concerns of his business, at the same time that he was
purchasing estates with its profits, and writing books for his
amusement. Mr. Hutton had retired from business twenty-two
years; but, after he had ceased to receive any emolument from
it, he attended it with the same regularity, first for his son, and
afterwards for his grand-nephew, to whom it was successively
given, that he had done for himself. Six days in the week he
walked to the scene of his old employment and back, a distance of four miles and a half; on the seventh, he walked to
worship his Maker, and his carriage brought him home. One
day, when he wanted but five days of completing his ninetieth
year, his strength failed before he reached his house, and he
was carried home in a chair. He went to Birmingham no
more. -He then took to walking round the drive before his
own house, where he regularly walked, and counted his four
miles a day. Winter drove him to walk in the house; Spring
again took him out; but Time had cut short his walksr He
had numerous falls; but he was only raised up to walk again.
At length, having fallen three times in eight days, he submitted to lean on a servant. The late summer he chiefly

334

Obituary Notice of William Hutton.

passed between his bed and his walk; going four walks every
day, of a quarter of a mile each. He was dragged along,
rather than led, by a servant; but nothing could prevail upon
him to give up his exercise. This diurnal motion continued
till within three days of his death, when he could not finish his
last walk. He was then confined to his bed and a sofa; and
all that remained was to die. He was so happily constituted,
that ninety-two years had scarcely the power to make a wrinkle
in his face. He has left behind him the History of his own
Life, which he intended for publication.

NOTICES
OF THE

PUBLISHED

WORKS

AND

WRITINGS

OF

WILLIAM HUTTON, F.A.S.S.

BY LLEWELLYNN JEWITT, F.S.A.,
ETC.

ETC.

ETC.

THE HISTORY OF BIRMINGHAM.

THE

first book written by William Hutton was the history of
the town of his adoption, Birmingham, and upon this his
name still rests as much, perhaps more, than on any other. As
early as the year 1775 he had got together some matter for this
History, but in that year "a circumstance of a private nature
occurring," he destroyed his materials and relinquished the
design. In I780 he, however, again took up the project.
" The first nine months of this year," he says, "were employed
in writing the 'History of Birmingham.' Fearing my ability,
I wrote with dread. Rollason, the printer, was pleased with it,
and showed it to Dr. Withering, who pronounced it 'the best
topographical history he had ever seen.' I had for it seventyfive copies, the profit upon which amounted to about forty
pounds. To venture into the world as an author, without
having had a previous education, was a daring attempt. It was
setting my knowledge against that of the public: the balance
very uneven. This was afterwards considered the best book
I ever wrote. I considered it in a less favourable light."
Hutton's whole heart and soul must have been in his work,
and he must have allowed it to entirely engross his attention,
for he writes, "Pleased as a fond parent with this History, as
my first literary offspring, I may be said, while in manuscript,
to have had the whole by heart. Had a line been quoted, I
could have followed it up through the chapter. Frequently
while awake in the night I have repeated it in silence, for two
or three hours together, without adding or missing a word."
Thus, though he "took up the pen with fear and trembling, at
the advanced age of fifty-six, a period at which most authors
lay it down," he took care that every word he wrote should be
impressed deeply on his mind.
I the next year, i78i, he writes, "I supped January 3 r
with a large company at the Bull and Gate. Rollason, my
bookseller, was there, spoke highly of my History, and 'made
no doubt but that the fine paper would, in twenty years, sell

The History of Birmingham.

337

for a guinea;' and I also superintended the correcting, enThe
larging, and printing of the 'History of Birmingham.'"
History, when first announced for publication, had no author's
name attached. it was as follows: "March 15,
posals for publishing by Subscription, In One Volume, Octavo,
Price 7s. 6d., The History of Birmingham, From the earliest
Accounts down to the present time. Which will be enriched
with 24 Copper-Plates, representing the Public Buildings, a
By a Gentleman, an
View and Plan of the Town, &c. &c.
Inhabitant." The modesty of this announcement, however, soon
wore off, and the following week's advertisement gave the
name of William Hutton as the author. In October in the
same year another announcement appeared as follows :-" To
the Public. The publication of the History of Birmingham is
obliged to be postponed till the beginning of December next,
as some of the principal plates, which are engraving by that
eminent artist, Mr. Walker, of London, cannot possibly be
'finished before that period. The subscription will continue
open till that time, and then finally close. The great expense
incurred by the number of copper-plates given in the work will
unavoidably oblige the author considerably to advance the
-price to non-subscribers. It will contain seventeen copperplates, some of which will be well worth 2s. 6d. each. Price to
subscribers 7s. 6d."
Dr. Langford-a writer of whom Birmingham has abundant
reason to be proud-says " the book was published in DecemWilliam Hutton, however, himself says,
ber as promised."
" 1782. March 22, the History of Birmingham was published,"
and this no doubt was the actual day of its issue. The volume
bears the date 1781 on its title-page, but doubtless after the
work was printed the waiting for the plates caused its postponement to the following spring. It was entitled "An History
of Birmingham, to the End of the Year 1780. By W. Hutton.
Birmingham: Printed by and for Pearson and Rollason; and
sold by R. Baldwin, Paternoster Row; B. White, Fleet Street;
J. Robson, New Bond Street; S. Hayes, Oxford Street; and

178.-Pro-

J.

and

J.

Fletcher, Oxford.

MDCCLXXXI."

The preface is so characteristic of the man, and gives such
an insight into his mind and ideas that it is well worthy ofhere
reprinting. It is as follows :"A preface rather induces a man to speak of himself, which
is deemed the worst subject upon which he can speak. In

338

The History of Birmingkam.

history we become acquainted with things, but in a preface
with the author, and for a man to treat of himself, may also be
the most difficult task of the two, for in history facts are produced ready to the hand of the historian, which give birth to
thought, and it is easy to clothe that thought in words, but in a
preface an author is obliged to forge from the brain, where he
is sometimes known to forge without fire. In one he only
reduces a substance into form, but in the other he must create
that substance.
"As I am not an author by profession it is no wonder if I
am unacquainted with the modes of authorship; but I apprehend
the usual method of conducting the pen is to polish up a
sounding title-page, dignified with scraps of Latin, and then to
hammer up a work to fit it, as nearly as genius, or want of
genius, will allow.
" We next turn over a new leaf, and open upon a pompous
Dedication, which answers many laudable purposes; it becomes
a pair of stilts, which advance an author something higher.
" As a horseshoe nailed upon the threshold of a cottage
prevents the influence of the witch, so a first-rate name at the
head of a Dedication is a total bar against the critic, but this
great name, like a great officer, sometimes unfortunately stands
at the head of wretched troops.
" When an author is too heavy to swim of himself it serves
as a pair of bladders to prevent his sinking.
" It is farther productive of a solid advantage, that of a
present from the patron, more valuable than that from the
bookseller, which prevents his sinking under the pressure of
famine.
"But being wholly unknown to the great names of literary
consequence, I shall not attempt a Dedication, therefore must
lose the benefit of the stilt, the bladder, and the horseshoe.
"Were I to enter upon dedication I should certainly address
myself' To the Inhabitants of Birmingham,' for to them I not
only owe much but all, and I think among that congregated
mass there is not- one person to whom I wish ilL I have the
pleasure of calling many of those inhabitants friends, and some
of them share my warm affections equally with myself. Birmingnam, a compassionate nurse, not only draws our persons
but our esteem from the place of our nativity, and fixes it upon
herself. I might add 'I was hungry, and she fed me; thirsty,
and she gave me drink; a stranger, and she took me in.' I

The History of Birmingham.

339

approached her with reluctance because I did not know her; I
shall leave her with reluctance because I do.
"Whether it is perfectly consistent in an author to solicit the
indulgence of the public, though it may stand first in his wishes,
admits a doubt, for, if his productions will not bear the light,
why does
publish them ? and if they will, there is no need
to ask a favour-the world receives one from him. Will not a
piece be everlastingly tried by its merit? Shall we esteem
it the higher because it was written at the age of thirteen ?
because it was the effort of a week? delivered extempore?
hatched while the author stood upon one leg? or cobbled while
he cobbled a shoe? or will it be a recommendation that it
issues forth in gilt binding ? The judicious world will not be
deceived by the tinselled purse, but will examine whether its
contents are sterling.
"Will it augment the value of this history, or cover its
blunders, to say that I have never seen Oxford? that the
thick fogs of penury prevented the sun of science from beaming
upon the mind ? that necessity obliged me to lay down the
battledore before I was master of the letters ? and that, instead
of handling systems of knowledge, my hands at the early period
of seven became callous with labour ?
"But though a whole group of pietences will have no effect
with the impartial eye, yet one reason pleads strongly in my
favour--no such thing ever appeared as an " History of Birmingham." It is remarkable that one of the most singular places in
the universe is without an historian, that she never manufactured an history of herself, who has manufactured almost
everything else. If such a production had ever seen the light
mine most certainly would never have been written. A temporary bridge therefore may satisfy the impatient traveller till
a more skilful architect shall accommodate him with a complete
production of elegance, of use, and of duration.
"
Although works of genius ought to come out of the mint
doubly refined, yet history admits of a much greater latitude to
the author. The best upon the subject, though defective, may
meet with regard.
"It has long been a complaint that local history is much
wanted. This will appear obvious if we examine the places we
know with the histories that treat of them. Many an author
has become a cripple by historically travelling through all
England who might have made a tolerable figure had he stayed.

be

zz

340

The History of Birmningliam.z.

at home. The subject is too copious for one performance, or
even the life of one man. The design of history is knowledge,
but if simply to tell a tale be all the duty of an historian he has
no irksome task before him, for there is nothing more easy
than to relate a fact, but perhaps nothing more difficult than to
relate it well.
"The situation of an author is rather critical. If the smiles
of the world chance to meet his labours he is apt to forget
himself; if otherwise, he is soon forgot.
" Having many years ago entertained an idea of this undertaking, I made some trifling preparations, but in 1775 a circumstance of a private nature occurring, which engaged my attention
for several years, I relinquished the design, destroyed the
materials, and meant to give up the thought for ever, but the
intention revived in 1780, and the work followed.
" I may be accused of quitting the regular trammels of history
and wandering in the fields of dissertation, but, although our
habitation justly stands chief in our esteem, in return for rest,
content, and protection, does it follow that we should never
stray from it ? If I happen to veer a moment from the Polar
point of Birmingham I shall certainly vibrate again to the centre.
Every author has a manner peculiar to himself, nor can he well
forsake it. I should be exceedingly hurt to omit a necessary
part of intelligence, but more to offend a reader.
" If grandeur should censure me for recording the men of
mean life, let me ask which is preferable-he that thunders at
the anlvil or in the senate ?
"The man who earnestly wishes the significant letters, ESQ.,
spliced to the end of his name, will despise the question; but
the philosopher will answer, 'they are equal.'
"Lucrative views have no part in this production; I cannot
solicit a kind people to grant what they have already granted ;
but if another finds that pleasure in reading, which I have
done in writing, I am paid.
"As no history is extant, to inform me of this famous
nursery of the arts, perfection in mine must not be expected.
Though I have endeavoured to pursue the road to truth; yet
having no light to guide, or hand to direct me, it is no wonder
if I mistake it; but we do not condemn, so much as pity, the
man, for losing his way, who first travels an unbeaten road.
"Birmingham, for want of the recording hand, may be said
to live but one generation; the transactions of the last age die

The History of Birmingham.

34I

in this; memory is the sole historian, which, being defective, I
embalm the present generation for the inspection of the future.
" It is unnecessary to attempt a general character, for if the
attentive reader is himself of Birmingham, he is equally apprised of that character; and, if a stranger, he will find a
variety of touches scattered through the piece, which taken in
a collective view, form a picture of that generous people, who
merit his esteem, and possess mine.
" To be corrected with regard to errors committed in the
work, or informed of fresh incident, will be thankfully accepted.
" Let me close this public scene, by expressing my gratitude
to the friends who have generously contributed materials for
the following sheets, particularly Mr. Mark Noble, F.A.S., a
gentleman from whose researches into antiquity the world has
much to expect."
The volume consists of xii and 28o pages, and is printed
on thick paper of large 8vo size. It is illustrated with a
"Plan of Birmingman, Surveyed by Thos. Hanson, 1781," and
engraved by R. Hancock; and by plates of St. John's Chapel,
Deritend; St. Bartholomew's Chapel; St. Mary's Chapel;
St. Paul's Chapel; New Meeting, and Old Meeting; Birmingham Theatre, Hotel, and Tavern; Hotel; Free School;
Charity School; Workhouse; Welsh Cross, and Old Cross;
St. Martin's Church; St. Philip's Church; and General Hospital; the whole of which are drawn by Pickering and engraved by Hancock; and a plan of the navigable canal from
Birmingham to Autherley, drawn by John Snape and engraved
by Thos. Sanders. No plates by Walker, whose name was
given in the advertisement, appear. Hancock was a very
celebrated engraver, and was the principal engraver of subjects
for the Worcester China Works at the time when transfer
printing was first introduced upon porcelain. Some of his
Valentine
productions also occur on Battersea enamels.
Green and John Ross, two famous engravers, were his pupils.
His engravings in Hutton's " History of Birmingham" are remarkably good.
Dr. Langford says in his "Century of Birmingham Life,"
when speaking of Hutton's work "It is our first history-a
history which, notwithstanding its shortcomings, its errors of
omission and commission, is still a book to which we all turn
with delight, and ought to speak of with respect ;" and Mr.

342

The History of Birmingham.

Guest writing in the same strain concerning " the quaint and
frequently amusing style of Mr. Hutton, the first and only
historian of Birmingham," adds that "notwithstanding several
accounts of Birmingham have been published since Mr. Hutton's,
they are all copied from his work, adding but few facts not before recorded by him, and seldom disputing his assertions."
Many of his observations are so novel in expression and in
turn of thought, and so interesting in matter, that some
extracts will add no little to the pleasure of reading his " Life."
To this end I have selected the following. Thus, speaking of
health in relation to bathing, he says," I do not know any author who has reckoned man among
the amphibious race of animals, neither do I know any animal
who better deserves it. Man is lord of the little ball on which
he treads, one half of which, at least, is water. If we do not
allow him to be amphibious, we deprive him of one half his
sovereignty. He justly bears that name who can live in the
water. Many of the disorders incident to the human frame are
prevented, and others cured, both by fresh and salt bathing;
so that we may properly remark 'He lives in the water, who
can find life, nay, even health, in that friendly element.' The
greatest treasure on earth is health: but a treasure of all
others the least valued by the owner. Other property is best
rated when in possession, but this can only be rated when
lost. We sometimes observe a man who, having lost this
inestimable jewel, seeks it with an ardour equal to its worth;
but when every research by land is eluded he fortunately finds
it in the water. Like the fish, he pines away upon shore, but,
like that, recovers again in the deep."
His remark upon longevity is curious. "Man is a timepiece. He measures out a certain space, then stops for ever.
We see him move upon the earth, hear him click, and perceive
in his face the uses of intelligence. His external appearance
will inform us whether he is old-fashioned, in which case he is
less valuable upon every gambling calculation. His face also
will generally inform us whether all is right within. This
cturious machine is filled with a complication of movements;
very unfit to be regulated by the rough hand of ignorance,
which sometimes leaves a mark not to be obliterated even
by the, hand of an artist. If the works are directed by
violence, destruction is not far off. If we load it with the oil
of luxury, it will give an additional vigour, but in the end clog

The History of Birmingham.

343

and impede the motion. But if the machine is under the
influence of prudence, she will guide it with an even and a
delicate hand, and perhaps the piece may move on till it is
fairly worn out by a long course of fourscore years."
One of the most striking features of the writings of William
is his love for moralizing, and this he does in a manner
peculiarly his own. No matter upon what subject he is discoursing, he breaks off into strange digressions which are
sometimes witty, generally quaint and original, and always
amusing. "Whence is it," he says in one place, "that title,
pedigree, and alliance in superior life are esteemed of the
highest value; while in the inferior, who have a prior claim,
are totally neglected ? The grand design of every creature
upon earth is to supply the wants of nature. No amusements
of body or mind can be adopted till hunger is served. When
the appetite calls, the whole attention of the animal, with all
its powers, is bound to answer. Hence arise those dreadful
contests in the brute creation, from the lion in the woods to the
dog who seizes the bone. Hence the ship, when her provisions
are spent, and she becalmed, casts a savage eye upon human
sacrifices; and hence the attention of the lower ranks of man
are too far engrossed for mental pursuit. They see, like
Esau, the honours of their family devoured with a ravenous
appetite. A man with an empty cupboard would make but a
wretched philosopher. But if fortune should smile upon one
of the lower race, raise him a step above his original standing,
and give him a prospect of independence, he immediately
begins to eye the arms upon carriages, examines old records for
his name, and enquires where the Herald's office is kept!
Thus, when the urgency of nature is set at liberty, the bird can
whistle upon the branch, the fish play upon the surface, the
goat skip upon the mountain, and even man himself can bask
in the sunshine of science."
." The seeds of every virtue, vice, inclination, and habit, are
sown in the breasts of every human being, though not in
an equal degree. Some of these lie dormant for ever, no
hand inviting their cultivation. Some are called into existence by their own internal strength, and others by
the external powers that surround them. Some of these
seeds flourish more, some less, according to the aptness of the
soil and the modes of assistance. We are not to suppose
infancy the only time in which these scions spring-no part of

'Hutton

344

The History of Birminghala.

life is exempt. I knew a man who lived to the age of forty
totally regardless of music. A fiddler happening to have
apartments near his abode, attracted his ear by frequent
exhibitions, which produced a growing inclination for that
favourite science, and he became a proficient himself. Thus in
advanced periods a man may fall in love with a science, a
woman, or a bottle. Thus avarice is said to shoot up in
ancient soil, and thus I myself, bud forth in history at fifty-six.
" The chameleon is said to receive a tincture from the colour
of the object that is nearest him; but the human mind in
reality receives a bias from its connexions. Link a man to the
pulpit, and he cannot proceed to any great lengths in profligate
life. Enter him into the army, and he will endeavour to swear
himself into consequence. Make the man of humanity an
overseer of the poor, and he will quickly find the tender feelings of commiseration hardened. Make him a physician, and
he will be the only person upon the premises, the heir excepted,
unconcerned at the prospect of death. Make him a surgeon,
and he will amputate a leg with the same indifference with
which a cutler saws a piece of bone for a knife handle. You
commit a rascal to prison because he merits transportation, but
by the time he comes out he merits a halter. By uniting also
with industry we become industrious. It is easy to give
instances of people whose distinguishing characteristic was
idleness, but when they breathed the air of Birmingham,
diligence became the predominant feature. The view of profit,
like the view of corn to the hungry horse, excites to action.
Thus the various seeds scattered by nature into the soul at its
first formation, either lie neglected, are urged into increase by
their own powers, or are drawn towards maturity by the concurring circumstances that attend them."
Here are Hutton's notions of government as prefixed to
the following highly curious account of the local government
of Birmingham before it became a corporate town :
" Have you, my dear reader, seen a sword hilt of curious,
and of Birmingham manufactory, covered with spangles of
various sizes, every one of which carries a separate lustre, but
when united has a dazzling effect ? Or, have you seen a ring
from the same origin set with diamonds of many dimensions,
the least of which sparkles with amazing beauty, but when
beheld in cluster surprise the beholder; or have you, in a
frosty evening, seen the heavens bespangled with refulgent

The

History of Birmingham.

345

splendour, each stud shining with intrinsic excellence, but
viewed in the aggregate reflect honour upon the Maker and
enliven the hemisphere. Such is the British government.
Such is that excellent system of polity, which shines the envy
of the stranger and the protector of the native. Every city,
town, or village in the English hemisphere hath a separate jurisdiction of its own and may justly be deemed a stud in the grand
lustre. Though the British constitution is as far from perfection
as the glory of the ring and the hilt is from that of the sun
which causes it, or the stars from the day; yet perhaps it stands
higher in the scale of excellence than that of its neighbours;
we may with propriety allow that body to shine with splendour
which hath been polishing for seventeen hundred years. Much
honour is due to the patriotic merit which advanced it to its
present eminence. Though Birmingham is but one sparkle ot
the brilliant cluster, yet she is a sparkle of the first water and ot
the first magnitude.
"The more perfect any system of government, the happier
the people. A wise government will punish for the commission of crimes, but a wiser will endeavour to prevent them.
Man is an active animal : if he is not employed in some useful
pursuit, he will employ himself in mischief. Example is also
prevalent; if one man falls into error he often draws another.
Though Heaven for wise purposes suffers a people to fulfil the
measure of their iniquities, a prudent state will nip them in the
bud."
"We often behold a pompous corporation which sounds well
in history, over something like a dirty village,-this is a head
without a body ; the very reverse is our case,-we are a body
without a head. For though Birmingham has undergone an
amazing alteration in extension, riches, and population, yet the
government is nearly the same as the Saxons left it. This part
of my important history therefore must suffer an eclipse. This
illustrious chapter that rose in dazzling brightness must be
veiled in the thick clouds of obscurity; I shall figure with
my corporation in a despicable light. I am not able to bring
upon the stage a mayor and a group of aldermen, dressed in
antique scarlet bordered with fur, drawing a train of attendants,
the meanest of which, even a pinder, is badged with silver.
Nor treat my guests with a band of music in scarlet cloaks with
broad laces. I can grace the hand of my Birmingham fiddler
with only a rusty instrument, and his back with barely a whole

346

The

History of Birmingham.

coat; neither have I a mace for the inauguration of the chief
magistrate. The reader therefore must either quit the place
or be satisfied with such entertainment as the company affords.
" The Officers, who are annually chosen, to direct in this prosperous seat of fortune, areAn High Bailiff,
Low Bailiff,
Two Constables,
Headborough,

Two High Tasters,
Two Low Tasters,
Two Affeirers, and
Two Leather Sealers,
all which, the Constables excepted, are no more than servants
to the lord of the Manor; and whose duty extends no farther
than to the preservation of the manorial rights.
"The High Bailiff is to inspect the Market, and see that
justice takes place between buyer and seller, to rectify the
weights and dry measures used in the manor.
" The Low Bailiff summons a jury who choose all the other
officers, and generally with prudence; but the most important
part of his office is, treat his friends at the expense of about
to
701.

" The Headborough is only an assistant to the Constables,
chiefly in time of absence.
"High Tasters examine the goodness of beer and its measure.
"Low Tasters inspect the meat exposed to sale and cause
that to be destroyed which is unfit for use.
" Affeirers ratify the chief rent and amercements between the
lord and the inhabitants. And the
"Leather Sealers stamped a public seal upon the hides when
Birmingham was a market for leather.
" These manorial servants, instituted by ancient charter,
chiefly occupy a name without an office, thus order seems assisted by industry and thus a numerous body of inhabitants are
governed without a governor.
"Exclusive of the choice of officers the jury impannelled by
the Low Bailiff have the presentation of all encroachments
upon the lord's waste, which hath long been neglected.
"The duties of office are little known, except that of taking a
generous dinner, which is punctually observed. It is too early
to begin business till the table is well stored with bottles, and
too late afterwards."
On religion and politics he expresses himself thus :-" Although these two threads, like the warp and the woof, are very

The History of Birmingham.

347

distinct things; yet like them they are usually woven together.
Each possesses a strength of its own, but when united have often
become extremely powerful, as in the case of Henry the Third
and the clergy. This union at times subsisted from a very
early date. Power is the idol of man. We not only wish to
acquire it, but also to increase and preserve it. If the magistrate has been too weak to execute his designs, he has backed
his schemes with the aid of the Church; this occurred with
King Stephen and the Bishops. Likewise if a churchman finds
his power ascendant in the human mind he still wishes an
addition to that power by uniting another. Thus the Bishop
of Rome being master'of the spiritual chair, stepped also into
the temporal. Sometimes the ecclesiastical and civil governors
appear in malign aspect; or in modern phrase, like a quarrel
between the Squire and the Rector, which is seldom detrimental to the people. This was the case with Henry the
Eighth and the Church. The curses of a priest hath sometimes brought a people into obedience to the king, when he
was not able to bring them himself; one could not refrain
from smiling, to hear a bishop curse the people for obeying
their sovereign, and in a few months afterwards, curse them
again if they did not, which happened in the reign of King
John. But happy for the world, that these dealers in the
wrath of Heaven are become extinct, and the market is
over."
In the list of subscribers to the " History of Birmingham "
are many names now famous in commercial history, and in
various walks of life. Among them are Matthew Boulton, of
Soho, the head of the great firm of Boulton and Watt; Francis
Eginton, of Soho, one of the inventors, as I have no hesitation
in here calling him, of photography, and the most famous of
the then painters upon glass; Dr. John Ash, of Birmingham;
" Mr. Thomas Bentley," the partner, I apprehend, of the great
Josiah Wedgwood; the celebrated Dr. Disney, F.S.A.; Richard
Gough; " Mr. Green, of Lichfield," the founder of the Museum
bearing his name; Mark Noble, F.S.A.; "Mrs. Perkins,
Nottingham," who was Hutton's sister; Dr. Joseph Priestley;
Dr. Withering; and others. The whole number of names of
subscribers was 297, and the number of copies subscribed for
-for his publishers took fifty-was 352.

348
THE JOURNEY TO LONDON.
William Hutton's second published work was the "Journey
to London," published in 1784. It is entitled "A Journey to
London, comprising a description of the most interesting objects
of curiosity to a visitor to the metropolis." In this curious
little work, which is a thin 8vo volume, and has passed through
two editions, are many quaint and curious remarks upon men
and things in the metropolis. The first time Hutton visited
London was, as will have been seen, in I749, when he walked
up from Nottingham to buy tools and materials for starting
himself in business as a bookbinder. Then, in I749, he was
a poor tramp with worn-out shoes, breakfasting on furmety at a
wheelbarrow, and at other times living upon halfpennyworths
of soup, and halfpennyworths of bread, and only eating one
meal under a roof during the whole of his stay; now, in 1784,

he was a well-to-do and well-dressed gentleman in black, with
money enough in his pocket to command attention, and to
enable him to feed in body upon the fat of the land, and in
mind upon all the sights, which before had been denied to him.
Here are his reflections upon the British Museum. How
different is that place now !
"The British Museum justly stands in the first class of
rarities. I was unwilling to quit London without seeing what
I had many years wished to see, but how to accomplish it was
the question; I had not one relation in the vast metropolis
to direct me, and only one acquaintance; but assistance was
not with him. I was given to understand that the door,
contrary to other doors, would not open with a silver key;
that interest must be made some time before, and admission
granted by a ticket, on a future day. This mode seemed
totally to exclude me. As I did not know a right way, I was
determined to pursue a wrong, which probably might lead me
into a right. Assiduity will accomplish weighty matters, or
how could Obadiah Roberts have counted the grains in a
bushel of wheat ? By good fortune, I stumbled upon a person
possessed of a ticket for the next day, which he valued less
than two shillings; we struck a bargain in a moment, and were
both pleased. And now I feasted upon my future felicity.
What though stern winter locks up the Park and Vauxhall, she
leaves me an entertainment in the Museum worth them both.

The 7ourney to London.

349

Here I shall regale the mind for two hours upon striking objects;
objects which ever change, and ever please. I shall see what
is nowhere else to be seen. The wonders of creation are deposited in this vast cabinet. Every country upon the globe
has, perhaps, paid its richest tribute into this grand treasury.
The sea has unlocked its stores. The internal parts of the
earth have been robbed of their spoils. The most extraordinary
productions of art find their way into this repository, and the
long ages of antiquity have largely contributed to the store. I
was not likely to forget Tuesday at eleven, December 7, 1784.
We assembled on the spot, about ten in number, all strangers to
me, perhaps to each other. We began to move pretty fast,
when I asked with some surprise whether there were none to
inform us what the curiosities were as we went on ? A tall
genteel young man in person, who seemed to be our conductor,
replied with some warmth, ' What ! would you have me tell you
everything in the Museum? How is it possible? Besides,
are not the names written upon many of them?' I was too
much humbled by this reply to utter another word. The
company seemed influenced; they made haste and were
silent. No voice was heard but in whispers. If a man pass
two minutes in a room, in which are a thousand things to
demand his attention, he cannot find time to bestow on them a
glance each. When our leader opens the door of another
apartment, the silent language of that action is, Come along. If
I see wonders which I do not understand they are no wonders
to me. Should a piece of withered paper lie on the floor, I
should, without regard, shuffle it from under my feet. But
if I am told it is a letter written by Edward the Sixth, that
information sets a value upon the piece, it becomes a choice
morceau of antiquity, and I seize it with rapture. The history
must go together; if one is wanting, the other is of little value.
I considered myself in the midst of a rich entertainment,
consisting of ten thousand rarities, but, like Tantalus, I could
not taste one. It grieved me to think how much I lost for
want of a little information. In about thirty minutes we
finished our silent journey through this princely mansion, which
would well have taken thirty days ! I went out much about as
wise as I went in, but with thi severe reflection, that for fear
of losing my chance, I had that morning abruptly torn myself
from three gentlemen, with whom I was engaged in an
interesting conversation, had lost my breakfast, got wet to the

350

The Court of Requests.

skin, spent half-a-crown in coach-hire, paid two shillings for a
ticket, been hackneyed through the rooms with violence, had
lost the little share of good humour I brought in, and came
away completely disappointed. Hope is the most active of all
the human passions. It is the most delusive. I had laid
more stress on the British Museum than anything I should see
in London. It was the only sight that disgusted me."

THE COURT OF REQUESTS.
Hutton's next published work, which he issued in 1787, was
his "Courts of Requests: their nature, utility, and powers,
described, with a variety of cases determined in that of
Birmingham. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.," which is a very
extraordinary work, and one which, like his "Life," contains a
vast deal of curious matter and turn of thought. "A Court of
Conscience," says Hutton in his preface, "is a court of
rectitude ; its name indicates perfection. There can be no
flaw in the institution ; if there is any it must be in the practice,
for perfection is not with man. The utility of such a court is
obvious: every plan is beneficial upon which is drawn the
exact line of justice, and which repossesses a man of the
property he has lost, particularly if upon easy terms to him
who sustains the loss, and him who caused it. Whatever
scheme can be adopted to terminate quarrels, which often
originate from trifles, and rise to consequence; to prevent a
series of ill blood, and introduce concord, carries its own worth.
It need not be recommended, it will recommend itself. It only
need be known to be valued.
" One should be surprised at first view that so excellent
an institution has made so small a progress in two hundred and
fifty years, for there are but few, since its first rise under
Wolsey. I could give an ample reason for this sluggish advance; but even truth itself must not always be spoken. What
fire can kindle repeatedly dashed with cold water.
" One principal reason of this publication is to describe the
nature, powers, and practice of the Court at Birmingham, to
which I have often been solicited; perhaps more causes pass
through that Court than any other under the British Government.

The Court of Requests.

35I

If practice makes perfect, it has not been wanting. A man
cannot bestow a close application to any science for fifteen
years without acquiring some knowledge of the subject. In
many of these years I have not omitted attendance for one day.
It gives me more pleasure, perhaps more pride, to tell the
world I never received the least emolument than if I had
privately drawn an ample fortune. If a man works for nothing
it is a proof he likes the work; if he likes it no wonder he
become a proficient; no musician ever played a good fiddle
who did not love music. A powerful relish in the mind for
any undertaking will in some measure supply the defect of
capacity. I have longed for Friday, as the schoolboy for
Christmas, nay, the practice of years has not worn off the keen
edge of desire.
" I may be said to have spent a life upon the Bench, which,
though without a profit, carried its own reward, for I have
considered the suitors as my children, and when any of this
vast family looked up to me for peace and justice I have
distributed both with pleasure.
" A long preface is needless, because fifty will be found in
the course of the work, chiefly tending to elucidate the subject.
I think it a peculiar happiness that I never had the least disagreement with a brother commissioner. Concord is generally
to be found upon the Bench, how seldom soever she may be found
off; perhaps I have not succeeded so happily with the suitors.
The loser is often hurt. I always considered myself bound to
assign my reasons why a decision should go against him.
Those reasons usually satisfied, and the loser has often become
my friend, but in some few instances I shall never be pardoned.
A Commissioner ought to be the friend of both parties, though
they are not both his. The hand of power should ever be
gentle. I can safely aver I never acted against any man with
design. If I pronounced wrongfully it arose from ignorance;
revenge and a party spirit are beneath a man. I wished to
avoid even the first operations of partiality, that subtile power,
frequently unobserved, which adheres as closely to the mind as
the hand to the body, and, like that, is apt to appear in action.
I have described various cases for information, each a
distinct history; some of them are curious, others too intricate
for human wisdom to decide with certainty, which powerfully
pleads in favour of the Bench. Every one of them, with fifty
thousand more, passed under my own eye. Whether they were

352

.Tte Court of Requests.

equitably determined must be left to the judgment of the
world. Many of them will be remembered by the spectators,
and particularly by the parties concerned. Here the loser
who never pardons a lost cause may see the reasons why he
lost it."
The cases in this volume are one hundred and nineteen in
number, with such curious titles as " The Sturdy Club,"
" Match a Knave," " The Second-hand Wife," " File Dust,"
"The meek Husband and bouncing Wife," " Bad is the best,"
&c. &c. The cases are all clearly and distinctly set forth, and
the judgments are, perhaps, the most just of any on record-full
of practical wisdom and common sense, and evincing that clearness of perception, and that firmness of purpose which characterized Hutton in all his doings. The following cases will
show the style in which this excellent book is written.
"THE PLEASURES OF MATRIMONY.
"Law, with its rigid fetters, binds what conscience sets free.
Law knows no mercy. Equity knows no rigour. If this court
cannot proceed contrary to law, they can proceed without it.
Nature has furnished every man with the talent of judging between right and wrong; the paths to both are straight and even,
though the light is sometimes defective.
" It is a duty, an interest, and a pleasure for a man in the conjugal state to promote his own happiness. If he lives in amity
with his wife he fully enjoys the benefit himself. There is no
species of happiness more interesting; none will better pay for
cultivation; none is so much neglected. Love is the foundation of this felicity, and this often upon prudence. If love
does not exist, happiness cannot. If a man is unable to love
his wife, let him try to pity her. None ever repented, or went
unrewarded, who made the trial. If she has not his affections
she merits his pity; and pity is the sister of love. He will
suffer more by hating her than himself. He can easily excuse
his own faults; let him try to excuse hers. He who barters
happiness for caprice may improve by reading Paul's sentiments
upon this subject to the Ephesians; or if sacred sounds hurt
the ear, he may find an excellent lesson in the old song of 'Darby
On the other hand, if the husband is to love his
and Joan.'
wife, the wife can do no less than try to deserve it.
"George
and Ann, his wife, lived together like new-

The Court of Requests.

3 53

married pairs, in great harmony. They lamented they had not
entered into marriage and happiness sooner. But alas! the
smile, the moon, the dear, and their loves waned and wore out
and changed together. These were succeeded by the sullen
look, the back turned where the face should be when a question was asked, and a cold answer given in the monosyllable,
No. The dainty bit was now cut for dear self which used to
be offered to dearest life. She exercised her tongue upon him,
and he his foot upon her.
" Matters cannot always grow worse; they will come to a
period. It was prudently judged, if two people must plague
each other, they had better plague at a distance. If it was
better to marry than to burn, it was better to part than to kill.
Our couple, who possessed more wisdom than love, chose, like
their superiors, to separate. But here a difficulty arose how
could a maintenance be obtained. George hated economy,
and madam hated labour. George thought it cruel to work for
one he detested; and she could prove from Scripture, under
the very hand of Paul, that a wife ought to be supported by
her husband. Her friends were consulted, and by an indenture tripartite, George was to allow her I2l. a year, and be
screened from all demands she should make or debts she should
contract.
"If a woman spends twenty-four pounds she will find it
difficult to cover that sum with twelve. This being our case,
the result was George was pestered with duns, arrests, and
suits in various courts. All this did not diminish their love,
for they had none. Among other courts George was brought
to the Court of Requests.
"After the necessary inquiries into the nature of the debt, the
Court remarked-" All our laws, both statute and common,
charge the debts of the wife upon the husband. Though in
her family she may possess absolute power, that power is
usurped, the law gives her none. The act of the wife is
deemed the act of the husband. It is necessary the husband
should be responsible, or the creditor would have no security
for the property he parts with. But in a case like this, when
the terms of separation are agreed upon, published to the
world, and known to all who know the parties, none can plead
ignorance. A contract like this ought in reason to be as binding'as that of marriage. Though the law allows no separation
without a divorce, yet it ought to be accepted lest worse
AA

354

The Court of Reyues/s.

mischief follow. If we admit this doctrine the parties may
live comfortably asunder, if not, the husband is inevitably
ruined. He is in the power of a revengeful wife, who may
contract what debts she pleases. She may draw his whole
fortune. A new gown would clap him into prison, and a
milliner's bill make him fly his country. While the husband
fulfils the original agreement by paying the 121. per annum,
which, by the way, is as much as his circumstances will allow,
we will not make an order against him; if he fails, we will.
Whoever trusts the wife, trusts in her own honour, for her
person is secure, which ought not-but his ought."

" THE COFFIN.

"Perhaps a man might be found who would pay no money
with so much willingness as that for a coffin for his wife.
Perhaps another might be found who would better relish the
coffin than the pay, and a happier third who would wish for
neither. When a man longs to introduce this kind of furniture into his house, it looks as if matters had not passed very
agreeably. Meeting the lively Mr. J. H. in deep mourning, I
expressed my concern and inquired with diffidence which of
his-family he had lost. He replied with a smile " I have only
lost my wife, tol lol der ol ol der ol lol,"-and in two months
picked up a second. Perhaps a fourth person might be found
who would make ample promises to the dear nymph, before
marriage, of the rectitude of his conduct and farther promise
a hundred guineas to her confidant and a silk gown to her
maid, for selling him a bride, but be as sluggish in discharging
these debts as those of her funeral, although he looked forward
with equal pleasure to both.
"G. having lost his wife, applied to his brother, who was a
joiner, for a coffin. The brother, for reasons best known to
himself, told A., another master joiner, that he might execute
the order.
"Let us then suppose what really happened, the business done,
the wife interred, joy possessing the inside of G.'s breast and
black cloth the out, the brother broke and fled his country, the
coffin unpaid for, and G. brought to the court for the money.
"G. urged in pointed terms that he never employed A., that

The Court of Requests.

355

he had paid his brother for the coffin, that it was nothing to
him whom he employed, that if they two agreed about the work,
as he had no concern in that agreement, he ought to have
none in its consequences; that if he was open to a claim from
A. he was open to every other person for business transacted,
therefore no man could be secure in his property. This case was
decided, ' contrary to an established maxim that the employer
shall pay the workman,' against G. and in favour of A."
The following is a graphic description of the beadle of the
Court as he existed in Hutton's time :-" When I first sat
in this Court the clerks and the beadle were under a private
contract; the beadle was chargeable with every expense,
was to pay the clerks an annual stipend, and appropriate
the residue of the profits to himself. This genius of the
Court was William Bridgens Barton, nominated Gentleman in
all deeds of lease and release, who, though possessed of about
ten thousand pounds, was seldom master of a shilling, but
frequently borrowed a trifle of his own servants to pay his
reckoning or to satisfy a kind nymph. Notwithstanding this
barrenness of cash, a stranger would think he was fond of
money, for his littleness of temper would at any time suffer him
to run of an errand for twopence. He was equally averse to
receive and pay money. If he accidentally met a person in
his debt he shunned him by running away or hiding himself in
obscurity. If one came to pay, ' Let it be,' was the word.
Those who dunned him always found him in haste, received
ample promises forgotten in a moment, but his good nature, of
which he had a large portion, always warded off the blow.
Though he daily gave and took credit, he kept no private
books of account, his counting-house was his memory, which
was very retentive, but when he died it was locked up, with its
contents, for ever. He was landlord to a farm near twenty
years without ever receiving a shilling rent. Always in a hurry
without making progress, he despatched nothing quick-but the
tankard. Expedition never discovered itself but in getting
drunk, in which he became so expert by daily practice that he
could accomplish it in ten minutes; I have known him drive a
post-chaise to Warwick for as much liquor as he could turn
into his vessel. It was indifferent to him whether he slept in
a bed, upon the hearth of an alehouse, or under a manger, or
AA2

356

The Court of Requests.

whether he staggered thither or was carried. He wrote an
excellent hand, was master of figures, and well understood the
business of an attorney's office. His fondness for employment
induced him to work without profit, and yet from his random
conduct his employment became loser. His shoes received
their last tincture of black from the currier. It was of no consequence to him whether he wore his shirt a week or a month,
whether his neckcloth was tied under his chin or over his ear, or
whether the top or the bottom of his wig was uppermost.
His beard and his linen were equal strangers to the suds.
"The money belonging to the suitors must of course pass
through the hands of this good-natured sloven, or rather pass
into them, for it seldom came out. The result was the Court
dwindled, the suitors complained, the Bench remonstrated, he
promised, the evil grew, and the clerks were obliged to take
their department into their own hands, since which time it has
been conducted with prudence.
" All sides were pleased and the current of property was now
to run in its right channel. Still by the laws of his office the
money arising from executions must submit to the touch of his
fingers, and we were again obstructed. 'Of what use is the
Court,' says the suitor, 'if we cannot have justice. We had
better lose our money by the debtors than be defrauded at
another expense by the beadle.'
"The Commissioners entertained serious thoughts of discharging him ; ald perhaps three months would have finished their
purpose, if in the interim the strength and quantity of his
liquor had not sent him into another world. There he could
not conduct matters much worse than he had done in this."

"The dignity of the mind should never be lost. It cannot be
supported by pride. A man preserves this dignity whose
poultry would feed without fear from his hand; who can throw
aside the word seventy and play at taw with his grandchildren;
who injures none, either in character, person, or fortune;
whom neither the rational nor the animal world can accuse of
wanton punishment; who gives pleasure to another without
diminishing his own. But he who ties the broken saucepan to
a dog's tail for the pleasure of hearing him rattle through the
streets with a hue and a cry after him, the butcher who plays

The Court of Requests.

357

with his knife in the wound after he has stabbed the pig to the
heart, and the driver who lashes his horses for the pride of
gracefully smacking the whip, are but one remove from the
brutes they punish."
"THE PUMP.

" Defendant.-I have never paid anything, neither have I a
right to pay. I gave no orders to have it done. I never
promised payment, neither has any man a right to lay out my
money.
" Commissioner.-Should you think it fair if all the neighbours went free and the whole expense was saddled upon you ?
" Defendant.-No.
" Commissioner.-Then what reason is there that you should
go free and your neighbours bear the whole? Had they been
all of your mind, they would have been deprived of one of the
greatest blessings we know, or rather, like you, would wish to
enjoy it at the expense of another. If you have never paid to
former repairs, they have granted you a favour you do not
deserve. As they have all an equal right to the pump, they
have all an equal right to pay. If you gave no orders it was
not because orders were not necessary or the water not wanted,
but that another, more spirited than yourself, might step forward
and furnish you with a pretext. If you had promised payment
you would have stood in a more honourable light. He lays out
his money himself who pays for a necessary article which cannot be had without; but if you take that article at the expense
of your neighbour, you do him an injustice, so shall we if we do
not order payment."
"A PICTURE OF A MAN FROM THE LIFE.

"A woman lost her needle-book, containing 5s. 6d., all she
had in the world, in consequence of which her children were
starving for bread. The man who had found it refused to
return it, and boldly supported his claim to the property. He
had fairly found it, and everything a man finds is his own.
" Court.-And so you apprehend the street gives a title to
whatever lies upon it. You forget that property cannot change
its owner without an act of that owner. You can inherit no
title but from her, and she has given you none. If you acci-

358

The Court of Requests.

dentally find a person's title-deeds, will it give you a right to
the estate ? Should a man take up your watch, would you think
he had a right to keep it? or rather would not you hold forth
in a different style, and proclaim that power of right which
obliged him to restore it? It may be generous to reward the
finder, but he can demand nothing; neither has the person who
wishes to conceal, or refuses to return what he finds, a right to
expect a gratuity. We are sorry that half this is your case. A
gentleman some years back was travelling in Nottinghamshire
with a servant who carried a portmanteau in which was 2000oo
to pay for an estate. By some accident it slipped unperceived
off the horse. When the loss was discovered the servant posted
back. An old woman, with the portmanteau on her head, whom
they had lately passed, exclaimed, " I know what you are galloping after; here is the treasure you lost; take it and welcome."
She was afterwards introduced to the master, who gave her five
guineas. Both parties were pleased, and whenever his affairs
led him to Nottingham he sent for the old woman, and always
gave her a kiss and a guinea ; each had a different relish, but
both were very acceptable. We shall allow you what you do
not deserve-one shilling; make an order against you for the
rest, and leave you to reflect how you stand with the world
and how you might have stood. Had you sought out the loser,
freely returned the property without a fee, for she wanted and
you did not, you would have stood upon honourable ground.
You may farther reflect that your honesty will never be called
in question, for of this you have publicly made shipwreck;
your capacity may, for as every loser of a cause pays the fees,
you have for twelve paltry pence bartered away seventeen and
a character."

"EDUCATION.

"Much of our prudence consists in properly directing children.
Upon our nice management depends their happiness and our
own. If their conduct is erroneous it is often owing to their
teachers, who themselves, as well as the children they teach,
feel the effects of a wrong bias. The prosperity of the next
generation depends upon this.
"A person was sued for i2s. The debt was allowed. The
Court, in such a case, seldom make further inquiry, but the

The

Court of Reques1s.

359

defendant appearing very young they demanded his age, which
was thirteen, and he had lost his friends.
" Court. It is always with regret that we find ourselves
obliged to assist one man to deprive another of his property.
We must become solicitors for the child before us, and entreat
you to withdraw the action.
His parents, who might have
directed him, are taken away, and he is unable to direct himself. Prudence in a child is not to be expected. It would
be cruel to punish him for not acting as a man. We all
know a grey head can never be set upon the shoulders of an
infant. Perhaps imprisonment would succeed our decision,
which would reflect no honour upon you, and be a disgrace to
us; we also know a prison of any kind is but a wretched school
for a child of thirteen. You would, we are persuaded, rather
lose the debt than have his ruin laid to your charge. You
would rejoice to assist in forming the man. A child is the
property of his parents, whose duty and interest it is to conduct
him; -but, if he has lost them, he becomes the property of
society; every one with whom he has connexion should lend
assistance. This is done by a multitude of ways; perhaps you
have performed more than your part. He is now thrown in
our way; we must add our mite in his favour. A reform does
not altogether consist in punishment; perhaps it has done as
much mischief as good. That child often makes the best man
who is rather drawn than driven; we should guide him, without
seeming to guide; the angler is not so likely to take his fish
by violence as by art. Long and grave lessons lose their effect.
Those instructions are the most efficacious which are only hints,
arising from little occurrences that daily happen. Comments
upon actions, seemingly beneath notice, may be applied to
useful purposes.
"The plaintiff cheerfully consented to withdraw his plea, the
clerks to remit their fees, and the Court recommended to the
lad a return of gratitude."
The whole of the ninety-one cases in this remarkable volume
are of the same general character as these, and the judgments
in each are sound and equitable. Hutton abhorred chicanery,
and held in utter detestation all attempts at cheating, extortion,
lying, deceit, and oppression, and his judgments never failed
to carry with them a sting to those who were guilty of any of

360

The Hundred Courl.

these practices. The volume contains some admirable "Maxims
for the Bench," which might well be acted upon by country
justices, judges of county courts, and others. Altogether this
" Court of Requests" is one of the most remarkable of William
Hutton's productions.

THE HUNDRED COURT.
Hutton's fourth published work was a kind of supplement or
addenda to his " Court of Requests," and was entitled "A
Dissertation on Juries; with a Description of the Hundred
Court: as an Appendix to the Court of Requests. By W.
Hutton, F.A.S.S.," and was published by Pearson and Rollason,
of Birmingham, in
It was a pamphlet of sixty pages in
8vo. The necessity for its publication is thus owned by its
author :--" In the ' Court of Requests,' which I sent into the
world in 1787, I was totally silent upon that ancient and
valuable barrier of British liberty, the Trial by Jury, from
whence two gentlemen, whose characters I respect, a doctor of
divinity and a barrister-at-law, supposing from that silence and
my attachment to Courts of Conscience, that I was no friend
to juries, jointly published some strictures in the prints of the
day, wherein they expressed an admiration of such Courts, but
would not exchange for them that safe bulwark, the Jury; and
to strengthen the remark, quoted the authority of Judge Blackstone. I instantly saw the defect, and was sorry I had not
touched upon that important subject; a species of government
which has ever had my hearty concurrence.
When the
Afonthly Review, in December, 1788, made their remarks
upon my publication, they delivered exactly the same sentiments
the two gentlemen had done, and introduced the same passage
from the learned judge which caused me sensibly to feel the
defect and gave rise to this appendix." It contains some few
cases of much the same illustrative character as those in the
previous work, and much sound sense in the opinions expressed
upon juries and the practice of courts.

1789.

361

DESCRIPTION OF BLACKPOOL.
The fifth published work by William Hutton was his "Description of Blackpool in Lancashire, frequented for Seabathing," which he wrote in 1788, as will be seen by referring
to -his " Life," under that year. In the beginning of this little
book he writes :-" It may be asked why I write of Blackpool?
Because it has merit which is little known! Whether it will
answer the expense? It will, if my information invites one person
there who shall find a cure i Had the Court seen it, I should have
had no occasion to write. If the place is possessed of advantages preferable to some others, it is but justice to exhibit them
to the world. I have no private view, or friend in the place, to
serve. When I intended to visit it with my family in 1788, I
neither knew nor could learn any particulars respecting its
appearance or accommodations.
Another may be circumstanced like me; this little work will inform him."
This publication is as quaint as its writer in every particular,
and is one of the most curious of topographical productions. It
concludes thus :-" Society without order can no more be conducted than a kingdom without laws. Anarchy is productive
of injustice; injustice gives birth to laws; and laws to decorum.
The more these laws are adapted to the good of a people, the
more that people prosper. If they are wantonly made they are
not likely to be kept; but when they arise from necessity they
should never be violated with impunity.
"A boarding-house at Blackpool, though consisting of one
hundred persons, may be considered as a private family or a
kingdom. The same maxims which conduct one, will the other.
The visitants are of two sorts-those who abound with health
and those who want it. It would be kind in the first to compassionate the other. Of all the different species of charity
known in the Christian world, that of ministering to distress
stands first. Acts of kindness, by soothing the mind, carry
their own reward. Rest is as necessary to recruit the human
frame as food. If those in health are obliged to court sleep,
how must the sick attain it? But what excuse can be made if
the healthful wantonly deprive the afflicted? Disturbance
reigns at midnight. In a large, hollow-sounding house every
noise operates with full effect, and pervades the whole. Sounds

362

Description of Blackpool.

are continually rising during the night 'which murder sleep;'
and repose, once lost, cannot soon be recovered.
"It might, if approved by the voice of the majority, be
enacted in this infant commonwealth" i. That every visitant, at his arrival, shall enter his name in
a book kept for that purpose at every boarding-house, as at
Buxton, and subscribe a shilling.
" 2. No person to take a place at table before dinner is served
in, upon the forfeiture of one shilling; and then every one be
seated according to priority.
" 3. If any person is vociferous after twelve, so as to disturb
the peace of the family, to incur the same penalty.
" 4. The senior visitant, as chief magistrate, to execute these
orders or depute another.
" 5. All the above accumulations to be appropriated towards
improving the Parade.
" 6. When the Parade is completed, the money to be applied
towards erecting a chapel, or assisting distressed objects whose
sole motive for visiting Blackpool is health.
" 7. The profits arising from the sale of this work, which
perhaps may be sixpence each book, shall be applied as above
towards the Parade, the chapel, or the afflicted stranger.
" Messrs. Baily, Forshaw, Hull, and Hudson are requested
to act in rotation as annual stewards, to receive the money collected, and appropriate it to the uses intended.
" Order is harmony, and is accompanied by happiness.
Every man should enjoy his own freedom without infringing
that of another. Silence at proper hours would then reign in
the family ; the indisposed be favoured with rest; the beauties,
the use, and the pleasure of Blackpool increase; the indigent
bless the source of relief; the visitant regret the time of his
departure, reflect upon his journey with pleasure, and eagerly
wish a return."
The history of the first edition is thus given in the preface to
the second, which was printed in 1804. "What alterations
have taken place at Blackpool during the last sixteen years I
am unable to say. The reader is to consider this little work a
description of the place in
not in
"The first edition has in its history something uncommon. It
shows my own credulity on one side, and a worse trait on another.
"Struck with the place, I became the historian ; showed the

1788,

1804.

The Battle of Boseorth Field.

363

manuscript to my landlord. He was pleased; summoned his
brethren of the spigot, six in number. They agreed to take the
whole edition and I agreed to charge only prime cost. Two of
the six became responsible as receivers and payers; which I
considered a partnership in this transaction.
" I packed up the whole edition, 7 20 copies, which came to
181. They cost me 91., which price I charged.
"I made, during the ensuing four years, many applications
for payment. At length one of them (Mr. Hudson) sent me
4/. Ios., which he called his share ; and I might apply for the
remainder to his partner, who has not yet had the rectitude to
pay me.
"By regulation the 7th the profit of the first edition was to
be appropriated to a charitable purpose. What became of it I
am ignorant; but perhaps the profit of this, if any, may be
applied to a better purpose. 1804."
The second edition was destroyed by a fire at Messrs.
Nichols, Son, and Bentley's printing-office; and a third was
issued in 1817. In this third edition, the publishers say " the
kind wishes of the ingenious author, as above expressed, having
been frustrated" by the fire, they have been induced, as the
work is still annually called for, to reprint a very small edition.
This was issued on the 5 th November, 1817.

THE BATTLE OF BOSWORTH FIELD.
This, the sixth published work of William Hutton, is
described as one of his best and most careful productions, but
I confess that to me it falls far short of his " Life," his "Court
of Requests," and his " History of Birmingham." The work is
entitled "The Battle of Bosworth Field, between Richard the
Third and Henry Earl of Richmond, August 22, 1485.
Wherein is described the approach of both armies, with a plan
of the Battle, its consequences, the fall, treatment, and character
of Richard. To which is prefixed, by way of introduction, a
History of his Life till he assumed the regal powers. By W.
Hutton, F.A.S.S." The first edition was published in 8vo, by
Pearson and Rollason of Birmingham, in 1788, in one volume
of i 80 pages, and is illustrated by a portrait of King Richard

364

The

Battle of Bosworth Field

the Third, and by a plan of Bosworth Field.
were published in 1813 and

1817.

Other editions

In the course of his preface Hutton says :
" Persuaded that the latter part of this important quarrel, the
Battle of Bosworth, is superficially represented, I have taken
some pains in a minute research. This little work will nearly
comprehend the history of Richard's short reign. Whatever
omissions I may be charged with, want of assiduity and inquiry
are not of the number. My pursuits, as might be expected,
were attended with difficulties. I could not even examine the
wood in Bosworth Field without being repeal edly set fast in the
mire; though possessed of two feet, I could sometimes use
neither. If in searching the rubbish of antiquity I found an
imaginary prize, it appeared so cankered with the rust of time
as to baffle the judgment. I have more than once put a whole
family into silent amazement by the singularity of my errand
by opening a subject which, though constantly under the eye,
they had never noticed. I frequently perceived embarrassment
on being unable to give me that information of their own
premises which a stranger might reasonably expect, and have
myself stood in an awkward light while I solicited a gentleman
to teach me what he had never learnt. But if I could not
always find an answer to my inquiries, I always found civility.
Authentic information of so remote a period is procured with
as much difficulty by the antiquary as water in Arabian deserts
by the traveller. I have treated my friend with a letter, and
myself with a journey, yet all the intelligence derived from
both has been comprised in six words : this evinces that a
work, though small, may be expensive, and that literary emoluments are no part of my pursuit."
The narrative is clear and careful, and gives an excellent
insight into the troublous history of that eventful period.
Indeed, the whole narrative is the best which has been
compiled, and is the groundwork on which later writers have
built their edifices. Hutton's shrewdness has, in many instances,
been fully borne out by documents brought to light since his
time, and thus the value of his opinions has become greatly
enhanced.
Towards the conclusion of the work Hutton thus sums up the
character of King Richard the Third :-" Former writers drew
Richard's character from prejudice, but as time has diminished
that prejudice, their successors will, with more justice, draw it

The Battle of Bosworth Field.

365

from facts. Perhaps he had a greater number of enemies than
any person in the whole system of English history. It was
said of Sir Robert Walpole, when he guided the helm under
George the Second, 'that he had more than any man living.'
But his were only the enemies of a day, Richard's continued for
ages. They were diligent in wounding his fame, while his
friends, if he had friends, were condemned to silence. Although
many crimes were laid to his charge, yet the greatest of all
was that of losing the battle of Bosworth. This added
emphasis to his guilt, gave his antagonist the ascendant,
and mnabled Henry to raise against him the clamour of ages.
Had Richard been prosperous, he would, with all his faults,
have passed through life with eclat. His errors, like those
of other monarchs, would have been lost in oblivion, and
himself have been handed down to posterity as an excellent
king. History would then have taken an opposite turn, and
the odium have fallen upon Henry. Many of the English
princes have been as guilty as Richard, but less blamed,
because more successful. The treatment of Duke Robert
by his brothers, William Rufus and Henry the First, was
infinitely more diabolical than that of Richard to Clarence.
King John murdered his nephew, and his sovereign, as well as
Richard; but this is little noticed by the historians, though
Richard was by far the better king. Henry the Fourth stands
almost excused, who really murdered Richard the Second, while
our hero is condemned for the death of Henry the Sixth,
though not guilty. The destruction of Warwick by Henry the
Seventh was as vile a murder as that of Edward the Fifth;
nay, were it possible to speak in palliation of this worst of
crimes, Richard was the least culpable, for he had one temptation which Henry had not: Edward the Fifth had an absolute
right to the crown, but Warwick only a shadow. And the
artful Queen Elizabeth, who, by her address, was idolized by
the subject and immortalized by the historian, basely destroyed
a sovereign princess over whom she exercised power without
right, Mary Queen of Scots, and, to augment the cruelty,
suffered her to be insulted at the block. . . . Richard's crimes

originated from ambition, and took their complexion from the
boldness of his character. Could he have lawfully claimed the
crown, he might have made an excellent monarch; or had
a crown been totally out of his reach, he might have been
a valuable subject; but, placed between the two, he partook

366

The History of Derby.

of both, and marred the subject to make the monarch.. He
was a faithful servant, a brave soldier, an admirable legislator,
yet one of the vilest of men. Perhaps history cannot produce
instance of such an assemblage of virtues and defects in one
person. In him were united as many excellencies as would
furnish several shining characters, and as many faults as would
damn a troop."

an

THE HISTORY OF DERBY.
This, the seventh, is one of William Hutton's best books,
and, with his "History of Birmingham," his "Court of
Requests," and his "Life," will be one on which his lasting fame
will rest. The volume bears the following rather long title.
"The History of Derby, from the remote ages of antiquity
to year MDCCXCI. Describing its situation, air, soil, water,
streets, buildings, and government, with the illustrious families
which have inherited its honours. Also the Ecclesiastical
History, the trade, amusements, remarkable occurrences, the
eminent men, with the adjacent seats of the gentry. Illustrated
with plates. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S. London: Printed by J.
Nicholls; and sold by G. G. J. and S. Robinson, Paternoster
Row; John Drewry, at Derby; and Thomas Pearson, at
Birmingham. MDccxcI." A second edition was published
by Messrs. Nicholls, Son, and Bentley, in 1817. The first
edition was an 8vo volume of xvi., and 320 pages, and was
illustrated by a number of copper-plates, many of them
wretchedly drawn by George Moneypenny, of Derby, and
engraved by Robert Hancock, of Birmingham. It is thus
dedicated to the Mayor of the borough for that year, Francis
Ashby, Esq. :"To Francis Ashby, Esq., Mayor of Derby.
"SIR,-It is not from personal acquaintance that I address
you, for I never had the pleasure of seeing you, nor from
a lucrative return, I neither wish or want any; but because you
are the Chief Magistrate of an ancient Borough, which gave
birth to those affections which it now possesses. When I departed from the place I did not depart from my esteem. Whenever I gain a sight of those turrets over which you preside, it
diffuses a sensation through the mind like the discovery of an

The History of Derby.

367

old acquaintance in whose favour I have been long and warmly
interested. If asked, why in this address I do not comprehend
the whole corporate body, I answer, I cannot take the head
without including the members.
"A body of history, like that of a man, is composed of
minute parts, every one of which ought to be known, otherwise
the whole will be defective. No topographical history can be
complete till its detached parts are investigated, and this task
is the most likely to be correct when performed by a resident.
Every piece of local history, like a mite cast into the treasury,
tends to furnish the sum wanted.
"Two requisites form an historian: to convey all which ought
to be conveyed, and that in a pleasing manner. How far I have
succeeded in both must be left to the reader. The first
consists in the assiduity in collecting materials; in this I have
not been defective; also in selecting them with judgment: and
the second is more the gift of nature than the acquirement of art.
" I took up the pen at that period in which most writers lay
it down. I may be said to have set off upon my historical
pursuits from the vale of years at a time when every declining
year, like every minute of a declining sun, tells five.
"The only ancient authors who have spoken materially of
Derby are Leland and Camden. Both are short, nor is it a
wonder that he who grasps at much loses nearly all. No one
ever wrote a history of the place, although it has long merited
one. I therefore tread that ground where was first cast my
severe lot, where, at an early age, I was attacked with most of
the ills attendant upon human life, without the power either of
resistance or retreat.
" I am indebted to Richard Gough, Esq., for his valuable
edition of the 'Britannia.'
"I have also to express my obligations to the Rev. Mr.
Manlove, Mr. Alderman Eaton, and Mr. Swift for the information I received, but still more for the politeness with which
I was received myself. A favour communicated with civility
doubles its value.
"Another debt I contracted with the Reverend James Pilkington, who recently published 'The Present State of Derbyshire,'
and this in a manner perfectly new. He professes not to
follow the dry Dugdale; and his work verifies the assertion :
to read Dugdale is a drudgery; but to peruse Pilkington a
delight. One conveys intelligence without pleasure; the other

368

The History of Derby.

conveys both. Our performances, though in a small degree
upon the same subject, widely differ; but I trust not in every
respect. I have made free with many passages in his valuable
work, without directing the reader to the source whence I drew
them, that I might not break the line of his attention by
removing his eye to the margin. And I embrace this public
mode of conveying my gratitude for the information he has
given, and the trouble he has saved me. Had not he
examined dusty charters and mouldy records, I must. A part
of my knowledge is grafted upon his assiduity. Had his
production seen the light a little sooner, mine would for ever
have been hid. But when I first heard of his, this work was
too far advanced for the pride of an author to give up to
destruction.
" Unknown in Derby, I stand clear of prejudice. When I
silently wander from the extremity of St. Mary's Bridge to that
of St. Peter's parish without meeting with one face that I
know, I consider myself as a stranger at home; but, though
forgotten, I cannot forget. I behold with concern the buildings
altered with time, and reflect, with a sigh, that every house has
changed its inhabitants; and that I have to mourn a whole
generation who are swept into the grave."
The following are curious and highly interesting extracts
from the " History of Derby," and show how quaintly its
author expresses himself.
" THE STREETS.-Derby is said to be a mile long, that is,
from St. Mary's Bridge to Cuckold's Alley; but it must be a
very short one. Neither is the passage straight, but curves
with the river. Its breadth, from the top of Friar Gate, through
Sadler Gate to the Derwent, is nearly half one. Could the
town be thrown into a square, it would not cover one hundred
acres. The Market Place is not large, but very neat, useful,
and elegant, and is the first ornament of the place. There are
about eighteen streets, but not more than six of these are
central, as Queen Street, St. Mary's Gate, Sadler Gate, Iron Gate,
Rotton Row, and Corn Market; the others all verge upon the
borders. One would think there was some motive for the
name of every street, and yet it would puzzle the antiquary to
find the original of Walker Lane, St. Mary's Gate, Bold Lane,
Sadler Gate, Iron Gate, Rotton Row, and Bag Lane; perhaps they
are the offspring of a proprietor's name or trade, or of fancy.

The History of Derby.

369

King and Queen Streets were probably so called in honour of
the royal owners during the Heptarchy, for the place was then
a royal borough. The inhabitants were considerable favourers
of the saints, by preserving their names in the streets, as St.
Helen, St. James, St. Michael, St. Mary, and St. Peter, which
constitute a tolerable calendar. Bridge Gate took its rise from
St. Mary's Bridge, and that from St. Mary's chapel; Nuns'
Green, from a nunnery, otherwise The Willows, because abounding with that tree, but prior to either King's Mead : this was an
appropriation of Burton Abbey, to which three peppercorns
were annually paid, as an acknowledgment of ownership; Friar
Gate from a house called Black-friars; Wardwick, from ward, a
detached place, and wick, a home, from the British; Corn
Market carries its own interpretation; Peter's parish from the
church, anciently, as above, Peter Gate, and more anciently
Castle Gate, because leading to that fortress; Morlege from
moor, low, lodge, a house, with which it perfectly agrees. Full
Street, from being the habitation of fullers, lying convenient for
that calling from its vicinity to the water. At the bottom of
this street, upon the banks of the Derwent, twenty yards from
the river, now Mr. Upton's garden, I first drew the vital air,
September 30, 1723.

There are also eight bye-lanes, slenderly

inhabited, St. Helen's Walk, St. Michael's Lane, Nanny Tag's,
Silkmill, Leather, Babbington, Green, and Dason Lanes, which
barely excite the notice of an historian.
"The number of houses in Derby are said to be 1637, and
the inhabitants 8563.
" Many of the private buildings deserve notice, as the house
of Mrs. Wilmot, late Ayres, in Peter's parish; that of
Forester, Esq., in a vile situation in Babbington Lane; Captain
Barnes's, at the Brookside. In the Wardwick, a narrow street
with a gloomy aspect, we are pleased with those of Thomas
Wilson, Esq.; Francis Fox, Esq.; William Smith, Esq.;
Samuel Fox, Esq. ; Mr. Lowe, Mrs. Rolleston, and Walter
Mather, Esq. In Friar Gate, which is spacious, but ill laid out,
Crompton, Esquires, Lady
are those of Samuel and -Wilmot, Mrs. Pickford, Mr. Lowe, Capt. Robinson, Mr.
Cater, and Rogers Buding, Esq. In the Market Place the
great house, the King's Head, and the building adjoining, are
spacious; Mrs. Chambers's, late Bailey's, in the Morlege; in
Iron Gate that of John Newton, Esq.; Full Street boasts Mr.
Bingham's, late Lord Exeter's, once graced with the presence of
BB

70o

The History of Derby.

the unfortunate Prince Charles; also the house of Dr. Darwin.
In St. Mary Gate is the elegant residence of Thomas Evans,
Esq., that of the late Hugh Bateman, Esq., and in Queen Street
that of Mr. : Latuffier; but the most superb is that of John
Gisborn, Esq., in Bridge Gate, a house that would honour the
first orders of nobility, but in a situation which does not merit
Wherever we find so expensive a work, we
a dwelling of
may fairly conclude that the proprietor was either very rich or
did not dread poverty. There is one solitary mansion, however, which I cannot behold without a sigh; it was once the
most eminent in Derby, but now ruined by time, and seems to
mourn the loss of its master: it is called Babbington Hall, and
stands at the extremity of the lane of that name: both were
derived from the ancient and opulent family of Babbington
of Dethick, one of the first in the county, who erected the building
many centuries ago, and made it their residence. The last of this
unfortunate race was Anthony Babbington, who lost his life for
adhering to the unhappy Mary Queen of Scots against Elizabeth.
The family and the fortune sunk with him !-fallen greatness
excites tender emotions !-one false step destroys the growth
of ages! Though this venerable antique has, perhaps, experienced as many mutations as years, and is multiplied into
half a dozen tenements, yet the original taste and grandeur
of its master are easily traced. The emblematical carvings are
numerous, and in high perfection. In the last century this was
the residence of Sir Simon Degge.
"The country about Derby is delightful: the town is handsome. Camden calls it 'an elegant place;' but some of the streets
are narrow, dark, and dangerous. Improvements have, however, recently taken place, by accommodating the foot passenger
with a pavement of flag-stones, if that can be deemed an
accommodation which is too confined to allow two people
to pass each other; neither does it amount to half a cure, for,
as the streets have been narrow during the last two thousand
years, they will probably continue so two thousand to come."
"BRIDGES.-As the Derwent runs by, rather than through,
Derby, one bridge is sufficient, to which all the eastern roads
point. But as Markeaton Brook passes through the place,
the communication was preserved by ten-four paltry ones of
stones, and six more paltry of timber-none of them passable
in a flood. The three first are of timber upon Nuns'Green, the
fourth stone, at Cuckstool Mill; a fifth at Bold Lane, timber;

500oo

The History of Derby.

37'

Warburgh's Bridge, stone; the seventh plank, upon a foundation of stone, which proves that the whole were of the same
materials in the days of the Monks: this joins St. James' Lane
to the Wardwick; the eighth sixty yards below, plank; Jail
Bridge, now St. Peter's, stone; and Tenant Bridge, a corruption
of tenth, in the Morlege, the same. Those of timber were
designed for foot people ; the others were so ill constructed as
scarcely to admit a horse with safety.
"To the honour, however, of the present generation, they
have recently taken down Cuckstool, Warburgh's, and the Jail
bridges, and displayed their public spirit in erecting three in
their places, more commodious than grand. Owing to these
improved passages, two wretched bridges are destroyed as useless--the fifth and the eighth. There is yet room for a display
of genius and accommodation in constructing Tenant Bridge,
which calls loudly for the plan, the pickaxe, and the trowel.
" To preserve a passage over Bramley Brook was a something
which bore the name of Packsaddle Bridge, from its shape,
over which the traveller forbore to ride, except he chose to
hazard a limb. This vile obstruction is also removed, and a
convenient bridge placed in its stead.
" All the authors that ever wrote upon Derby are lavish with
encomiums upon the beauty and elegance of St. Mary's Bridge,
which is a proof they never saw it. Contradiction is an
irksome task, but truth demands it. Its praise arises from its
extraordinary elevation, which is one of its greatest defects:
it is an arch upon arches, a mountain erected upon a river.
Human infirmity and loaded carriages drag up heavily; but aE
move over it dangerously, being so extremely narrow as to
admit but one carriage, so that we may safely remark it cannot
be travelled two ways at once. The gravel is incessantly
washed away, owing to the steep ascent, and the arches left
naked. Perhaps a bridge over so cold a river, so much used,
and so ill adapted for use cannot be found.
" There is no evil without its good; if the stranger travels
with difficulty to the summit of this bridge, he is well paid for
his journey. The prospect is most charming, surprise and
pleasure possess his mind; which, being engrossed by the
view, pass unobserved. Above the bridge the river gently
winds and moves on in solemn majesty; below, he is delighted
with the expansion, the rustic island, the cascades formed by
the weirs, as if art meant to confine this vast mnass cf water;
I

B

2

372

The History of Derby.

but it spurns the confinement with dignity, and, like man,
rejoices in liberty. The garden of evergreens in the centre of
the stream, the verdant meadows on the left, bounded by
distant woods, the superb appearance of the silk-mills, All
Saints, and other capital buildings, terminated by a varied and
extensive prospect, please his eye and engage his mind. He
views and would still view but that he has a life to guard, in
continual danger from the carriages, owing to the narrowness
of the bridge.
"About a century ago, this bridge demanding repairs, the
mechanic head of Roger Morlege endeavoured to come at
the foundation by cutting a trench through the south end
of the first close leading to Chester, and also the Nottingham
road, and directing the stream down a lane on the right into its
own bed near the Holmes. To accomplish this airy, or rather
watery, project, he drove piles quite across the bed of the
river, about two yards asunder and twenty above the bridge.
He then produced a wooden box, a yard wide, as high as the
depth of the water, and long as the width. This was to be
placed in the front of the piles, as a barricade to the stream.
The cumbrous machine, to make it sink and act as a complete
dam, was filled with earth, but the sullen water, fond of its old
course, crept through the crannies as fast as they could drain it
out. As the pride of man cannot brook a conquest, the box
was taken up, and Roger, like Noah, pitched it within and
without. This was to insure success. But the river proved
as obstinate as Roger, would submit to no control, but, regardless of the little efforts of man, moved on with its wonted
majesty, and the project was given up with reluctance. The
piles, I believe, are yet standing : I have seen them in a clear
and low water.
"At what time the present bridge was erected is uncertain :
perhaps it has stood more than 300 years. To the honour of the
present day, an act and four thousand pounds are procured to
erase that nuisance, which for ages has borne the epithet of
'grand,' and to erect another bridge, ten yards above the present,
but I doubt upon too small a scale. The people of Derby, like
those of every other place, rest satisfied with an improvement
half accomplished. They lose sight of an old but excellent
adage, 'Once well done is twice done;' nor is a useful hint
remembered, which Lord Chesterfield drops to his son, ' If a
I could
thing be worth doing at all it is worth doing well.'

Te History of Derby.

373

give as many instances of this short-sighted conduct as would
fill a volume. I have known the pavement of a street taken
up to lay it a little lower, and soon after taken up again to lay
it still a little lower. I have known the hedges on both sides
a road demolished to widen it; and a few years after again
removed to add more width."
Speaking on the subject of the ecclesiastical history of the
town, Hutton says:" The man who has power may oblige him who has none to
act like him, but he cannot oblige him to think like him.
Thought is free, action should follow thought. No man can
be free except his actions are his own, and while no injury
arises from them no power ought to control them; hence
appears the absurdity of punishing for religious conduct.
Religion is allowed by all parties to be composed of meekness
and love; but in all ages it has been supported by a spirit of
blustering. That has ever been the truest which was the
•strongest. Power is the criterion of right. A powerful church
is a powerful oppressor, and becomes a powerful state engine.
No system can stand examination but that of perfect freedom,
for should the least infringement be allowed the system falls.
If a man's faith and practice be ever so absurd, they are his
own; they are private property, to which he has the same
right as to the coat he wears or the air he breathes; for
should a second person deprive him of these because they
are infamous, a third, for the same reason, may deprive the
second. Here then the fabric moulders, nor can it be erected
upon another basis. The Scriptures, as a rule of rectitude,
never taught one man to take that which is the property of
another. Errors in belief arise from the weakness of judgment : if we err in plain cases, it is no wonder we err in the
mysterious. This weakness, being no fault, cannot merit
punishment. In a recent conversation with my friend Moses
Solomon, ifa Jew can be the friend of a Christian, he delivered,
what some would have deemed an absurd belief, 'That the
Rabbis of their church had still the power of working miracles;
a power which must be attended with other powers equally
great. That Constantinople contained 6oo,ooo Jewish families;
Amsterdam nearly as many. That the generations of men
dwindled in size every age and in time would be reduced to
pigmies. That in the days of David they were ten yards high,
and that Absalom, being a fine young fellow, was considerably

374

The History ofDerby.

taller. In those of Moses they were twenty, but that Adam
was so tall as to prevent the sunbeams from reaching the earth
over his head. That Christ was an impostor, and had done
irreparable mischief to that religion which lie ought to have
confirmed. That Dr. Priestley was culpable in attempting
to convert the Israelites, and that he would never succeed;'
which perhaps was the truest sentence he uttered. I assured
him that however his sentiments differ from those of others, yet
as none were injured by them, none could claim a power over
them, and instead of being repelled, he ought to be supported. Amazed, says the pious reader, 'Would you allow
such monstrous tenets?' Yes. 'Perhaps you would suffer
the heathen to worship the sun ?' Certainly: he worships the
Sayiour of the world, so do you. ' And would you suffer the
Mahometan absurdities to pass?' I would: nay, I go farther,
I would support that religion whose former practice I am going
to condemn.
"In 1556, when the faggot was the barrier between truth
and falsehood, a religious and harmless girl of All Saints'
parish, named Joan Waste, who was born blind, aid assisted
her father, a rope-maker, in his calling, was accused by. some
officious neighbours, before that ignorant Doctor Ralph Barns,
bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, of denying the real presence
in the sacrament. The bigot attempted to persuade her into his
faith, upon which terms he offered to secure her salvation. But
not being able to convert her to his religion, he was determined
to put a stop to her own, therefore condemned her to the flames,
and consigned her to the bailiffs of Derby for execution.
"This innocent victim to cruelty, aged 22, was, August r, led
to All Saints, like a criminal, preparatory to her suffering; and
from the church conducted, in solemn procession to Windmill
Pit, near the turnpike, upon the Burton road, about a mile
from the church, in the centre of which she suffered the torture
of fire with humble fortitude. It is matter of the utmost surprise that the innocence of her life, her youth, her sex, and her
misfortune, did not operate with her severe judges. Impressed
with her melancholy fate, even in early childhood, I have
examined the spot where she suffered, and by the help of an
infant imagination believed I discovered the relics of the burnt
faggots, which, like a random faith, founded in weakness, could
be no more than the operations of fancy.
" Those people who are not employed in some active pur-

The

History of Derby.

375

suit, have time to dabble in the concerns of others-a sure
indication of quarrels. This being the case at Derby, perpetual differences ensued between Papist and Protestant under
the Tudors; and between Whig and Tory under the Stuarts.
The town was rent in the reigns of Queen Anne and George
the First in favour of the Church, though no enemy was near
it. There was only one small congregation of Dissenters, who
were obliged to keep a nocturnal watch to preserve their
meeting-house from dissection; but not a Roman Catholic,
an Independent, Baptist, Israelite, or even a harmless Quaker,
could be found in the place. This irksome piece of disjointed
neighbourhood was increased by that incendiary, Dr. Sacheverell
whom the sheriff-George Sacheverell, of Callow, his cousin
admitted into the pulpit of All Saints, in 1709, to preach the
assize sermon. He fed the people with food to their taste,
such as himself had received from the disappointed Atterbury:
he told the world 'The Church was in danger,' and he told them
true, for he had set it in a flame. Had Butler written his 'Hudibras' thirty years later, I should have supposed he had had
Sacheverell in his eye when he talked of his 'drum ecclesiastick.' "
Under the history of All Saints' Church, Hutton says :"While -the steeple was down, the church stood solitary,
having lost her helpmate; but in 1722 the church was taken
away, and the steeple stood silent, as if lamenting the loss of
his. A few of the ancient monuments are preserved and
replaced, but the generations which had accumulated for ages
in this repository of the dead fell a prey to the pickaxe. The
last intelligence of the old inhabitants was lost for ever.
Monuments may preserve the dead, but what can preserve
monuments! The fine hand of the artist holds up for
a while the history of the defunct, but the rough hand of the
labourer, or at least, that of indefatigable time, destroys his
work. Upon one of the galleries, in gold letters, was written
Sutton, -Esq., of
'This gallery was erected in i6 , byKing's-mead, near Derby.' Two remarks arise from this
intelligence : that King's-mead, not Nuns'-green, was the
original name; and that the habitation, once sufficiently grand
for a squire, would now disgrace the pride even of a shoemaker.
His house is yet standing, marked with an elevated white porch,
projecting from the front.
"The design of the present church was done by Gibbs, for

376

The History of Derby.

which he received 251. The curate, Dr. Hutchinson, not
only subscribed 401., but, being a man of genteel address,
charged himself with raising the whole money, and executing a
masterly work without a shilling expense to his parish. He
was a complete master of the art of begging. The people to
whom he applied were not able to keep their money, it passed
from their pockets to his own, as if by magic. Wherever
he could recollect a person likely to contribute to this desirable
work, he made no scruple to visit him at his own expense. He
took a journey to London to solicit the benefaction of Thomas
Chambers, Esq., ancestor to the Earl of Exeter, who gave him
one hundred pounds. If a stranger passed through Derby,
the doctor's bow and his rhetoric were employed in the service
of the church. His anxiety was urgent, and his powers so
prevailing that he seldom failed of success. When the Waits
fiddled at his door for a Christmas-box, instead of sending
them away with a solitary shilling, he invited them in, treated
them with a tankard of ale, and persuaded them out of a
guinea. I have seen his list of subscribers, which are 589,
and the sum 32491. I is. 6d. But it appears he could procure a
man's name by his eloquence easier than his money, for fiftytwo of the subscribers never paid their sums, amounting to
1371. 16s. 6d. The remaining 3111. 15s. being defective,
he procured a brief, which added 598/. 5s . 6d. more. Still,
though assiduity was not wanting, money was; he therefore
sold six burying-places in the vault for six guineas, and twelve
of the principal seats in the church, by inch of candle, for
4751. 13s., which were purchased as freeholds by the first
inhabitants. Pride influences our actions, nor will it bear
contradiction. As the doctor raised the money, he justly
expected to have the disposal; but the parish considered
themselves neglected, and repeatedly thwarted his measures,
till, provoked by reiterated insults, he threw up the management, and left them in a labyrinth of their own creating. The
result was a considerable expense upon themselves. Some
things he intended were never finished, and some never begun.
He preached the first sermon November 25, 1725, from David,
'I was glad when they said unto me, let us go into the house
of the Lord."'
"Some of the amusements of Derby," says Hutton in another
place, "are common with those of other places. Some are
local. Recreations should always be inoffensive : they may be

The History of Derby.

377

divided into two classes, the mental and corporeal. The first
is chiefly adopted by the more refined ranks of men, and
consists in conversation, which is much cultivated here by small
clubs or societies in nocturnal meetings. In these well regulated
associations are united entertainment and improvement. In
reading, the man who has no relish for letters must, in some
idle moments, be a burden to himself. To converse with the
dead is the next pleasure to that of conversing with the living;
boih form the man. This pleasure is well known in Derby.
Men of reading not only abound, but there are many book
societies who keep pace with the press. A third mental
amusement is that of the stage. This is a garden of weeds
and flowers; the man of sense well knows which to choose;
he can distinguish the sentiment from the sound. He will
sometimes reverse the intention of the poet and the player;
for the comedy, with a tender thought, may excite a tear, and
the unnatural tragedy, disgust. This is an amusement cultivated in Derby, and a spacious theatre, recently erected, is a
proof of their taste.
" One of the corporeal entertainments is found in an elegant
assembly-room, chiefly confined to the younger and more
elevated class. To lead the hand of the fair is an introduction
towards leading the heart, for the hand is not the only part
affected by pressure. This kind of assemblage tends to soften
the temper and refine the manners.
"All the above amusements are found upon land; but there
are two which are local, and arise from the water,-fishing and
swimming. The inhabitants are adepts in both.
"There is also one amusement of the amphibious kind
which, if not peculiar to Derby, is pursued with an avidity I
have not observed elsewhere, football.
"I have seen this coarse sport carried to the barbarous height
of an election contest; nay, I have known a football hero
chaired through the streets like a successful member, although
his utmost elevation of character was no more than that of a
butcher's apprentice. Black eyes, bruised arms, and broken
shins are equally the marks of victory and defeat. I need not
say this is the delight of the lower ranks, and is attained at an
early period, the very infant learns to kick and then to walk.
The professors of this athletic art think themselves bound to
follow the ball wherever it flies, and, as Derby is fenced in with
rivers, it seldom flies far without flying into the water, and

The Barbers.

378

I have seen the amphibious practitioners of football-kicking

jump into the river upon a Shrove Tuesday, when the ground
was covered with snow. Whether the benefits arising from
exercise pay for the bloody nose is doubtful; whether this rough
pastime improves the mind I leave to the decision of its
votaries; and whether the wounds in youth produce the pains in
age I leave to threescore."

THE BARBERS.
The eighth of William Hutton's published works was a poem,
which was issued as an octavo pamphlet of thirty-four pages in
at the price of one shilling. It is entitled "The
Barbers; or, the Road to Riches. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S.
The modes of Poverty despising, we'll comment upon those of
rising. London. Printed for J. Pridden, ioo, Fleet Street; and
sold by T. Pearson, Birmingham. MDCCXCIII." As this is
but a short production, and the first of his poetical volumes,
and now very scarce, and consequently but little known, I
here reprint it almost entire. I believe it has never before been
reprinted.
"THE PREFACE.

'1793,

*

" EXAMINE all your talents round;
See which are wanting, which abound.
If none of these attempt to speak,
Are blunt, or bend because they're weak,
Then never think of public strife,
Sit still, and bite your nails for life.
You'll shine in this unenvied doom,
Much like a watchlight in a room;
Nor must you carry it about,
The very air will waft it out.
" But if like stars your lights will soar,
And be conspicuous out of door,
Then place them in that public view,
Where they'll shine best, and profit you.
"If to the Law your talents veer,
You rise a sergeant, judge, a peer.
For all allow this beaten mode
To peerage is the turnpike road.

The Barbers.
" Or is the Church most worth your striving,
Not for Religion's sake, but thriving,
You'll spurn at curates and small beer,
Condemned to fifty pounds a year,
You'll see, but cast about your eyes,
Some theologic question rise.
You'll then your brightest talents show,
To rise yourself, o'erwhelm your foe,
This brings you in a pulpit straight,
And in the Church you'll have some weight.
Then trammel through the canon, dean,
Till with a mitre you are seen.
Here, in your annual amount
Ten thousand spirit'al guineas count.
The highest honour Church affords
Is nodding in the House of Lords.
"Suppose a scarlet coat you wear,
You'll see three ways of climbing there.
By money, which you'll try to save;
By favour, which you'll try to have ;
By valour, which you'll try to spend;
These will completely gain your end.
With little patience and much judgment
They'll any one procure a regiment.
"Should authorship engage your skill,
The trump of fame awaits your will.
Your essays, odes, our pocket fleeces,
You cut the critics all to pieces,
Your pen producing sterling pages
Perpetuates your name for ages.
For writing gives you room to hope
To rise like Churchill, Pindar, Pope.
Perhaps you turn your eye to trade,
And then, my friend, your fortune's made.
You'll quickly trudge on foot no more,
But sport it in a chaise and four.
The movements glib obey the summons
To wheel you into th' House of Commons,
Where for a while you're satisfied
With a large slice of sterling pride.
for courts but drop a word,
Like PYou by and by become a lord."

379

80

The Barbers.

The whole poem runs on in this easy and unstudied style,
and contains many curious reflections and quaint sallies of

humour:" Two Barber Boys, prentices rather,
Who spent their servitude together
In Birmingham, found harmony,
Which many covet, few enjoy.
They oil the hone, and sweep the shop,
As well as many blockheads crop,
Venture to chatter of town news,
But never Christmas-box refuse.
That to a deadly sin would 'mount,
Is never charged to their account,
And there's no need to swell the tide,
When there appears enough beside.
For while the pliant hair they bend,
An oath can to the ceiling send,
If loitering at taw or ball,
Can tell a fib and cover all.
This to their sin but little adds,
Because reputed clever lads.
Though there's much loud advice and louder
Never to waste a drain of powder.
Besides some hints deliver'd clear,
Soap and pomatum's very dear.
Yet pretty well if half what's said
Enters the inside of the head,
The other half may well abide,
Like wind and rain, upon th' outside.
And, like those too, their powers may strain
To enter, but they'll find it vain.
We also know well that a skull
Ought never to be filled too full.
For, if a vessel overflows,
We certainly the surplus lose.
And there's no wisdom understood
In wasting anything that's good.
If comb was broken, oil was shed,
'Twas balanced by a rap o' th' head.
A razor lost required a stick,
Or, on another part, a kick.

The Barbers.

381I

A caul that's botched, is very clear
Required a pinch upon the ear;
That prudently, the part oppress'd
Was neighbour to the part transgressed.
Thus creditor and debtor too
Appeared completely at one view,
And all accounts were fairly stated
To praise or punishment related.
We balancing their cares and joys,
Call them a pair of happy boys.
If, reader, for their names you look,
'Twas William Hearson, Abraham Cook.
" They wield the razor with small graces,
In fabricating Sunday faces.
Full many a time have I sat still
A bleeding victim of their skill,
While they like priests in white disguise,
Offer'd my chin a sacrifice.
For seven long years they tarry full,
In whetting and in making dull,
Attacking beards of every size,
Whether on foolish heads or wise;
The bottom of a face to chop,
Or with pomatum grease the top.
"Old Time assisted now and then,
Till he had taught them to be men.
They were. Then who could count them nought,
Extremely willing to be taught.
Their state of freedom now enlarged,
Their time and all their cares discharged,
To see the world were much inclined
And leave their cares to lag behind,
For how can men excel in arts,
Except they visit foreign parts.
And what can travelling make scant,
It gives us all-but what we want.
"Now daily preparation's made
To carry on a foreign trade,
A razor and a strap were found
The world sufficient to go round.
A profit from these tools would flow,
As far as beards were known to grow.

382

The Barbers.
Nay, half these tools might do, perhaps,
A razor without any straps,
For leather breeches, both could tell,
Would whet a razor just as well.
And who'd submit to carry two
When he was certain one would do ?
Besides, more capital is gone
In buying two things than in one.
The razor, then, and breeches made,
Is all our load-and stock-in-trade.
Scissors, indeed, might add to stock,
As useful when they poll a block,
But what young man would be denied
The boon of any housemaid's side.
"As far as in our tale we're gone,
We've drawn our heroes both as one.
But now expands another view,
As men we're bound to make them two,
And in our smoothest numbers teach
The powers which actuated each.
" From Hearson's eye was darted hence
Much more good-nature than good sense,
And where good-nature we espy
It elevates its owner high.
This fine accomplishment we own
One of the prettiest passports known.
Between his hands, his feet, his head,
Were done more good things than were said.
"His figure, when expanded, too,
Gave a fine picture to the view.
A straight young fellow might be seen,
Full six feet high, whose limbs were clean.
To him the girls would give their charms
To be encircled in his arms,
A sergeant, too, resign his all,
Straight as his halbert and as tall.
"But Cook, whose talents lay within,
Was not so high nor yet so clean,
Was rather runted, face was rough,
His body too was short enough.
Besides, as knowing people own,
One evil seldom comes alone,

The Barbers.
As if t' exterminate his pride,
He was excessively blear-eyed.
What handsome lass to Cook would fall?
The happy Hearson had them all.
What sergeant would bestow a look
Upon the short and blear-eyed Cook ?
However might those eyes be seen in
A tolerable share of meaning.
" Thus have we led two barber's boys
Through infant scenes of real joys,
Beheld them shave a block of timber
As learning to shave one more limber.
Their various servitudes have seen,
Till their own masters they have been.
We'll leave them travelling the road
While we bring up our episode.
" The nation was to error prone,
In seventeen hundred eighty-one,
Forgetting neighbour, friend, and brother,
One side resolved to fight the other.
What evils might have been avoided
If one had with the other sided.
Out of America were then
The English driven by Englishmen.
Let the remark stand on my page,
A lesson to a future age,
By one false step, 'mong many others,
We lost three millions of our brothers.
Besides, what streams of blood are shed,
When fifty thousand's knocked o' th' head,
A space of country too was lost,
Which many a hundred thousand's cost,
It never can return again,
Then lost for ever must remain.
And nothing by it we could get,
But an increase of solid debt,
Amounting to, I'm within bounds,
More than a hundred million pounds.
Which, if the curious ask me when,
This sum will be repaid again,
I answer without hesitation,
Whenever this successful nation

383

384

The Barbers.
Recovers back America,
That sum immense she'll surely pay.
" Another question is in hand,
Which I could never understand,
But in my verse will now retain it,
And beg the learned to explain it.
I'll prize it more than plate with fish on,
'Twill make complete the next edition.
Why we should wish with all our might
America might win in fight,
Yet on the French a curse imply,
Who were their great and good ally.
"Suppose we quit our episode,
And seek the Barbers on the road;
But this is difficult to do,
For they themselves ne'er rightly knew.
We can, however, eas'ly tell,
Their shoes upheld the razor well,
But soon the razor did refuse
To add assistance to the shoes.
" Our heroes had not travelled far
Before grim Want began to stare,
Nor could the wanderers invent
One argument to give content,
For all allow, in rhetoric,
Its figures in the mouth will stick,
And not a trope, they boldly tell ye,
Ever descends to fill the belly;
Of the reverse, instances are plenty,
They rather tend to make it empty.
Their hunger great, their money gone,
Their custom dwindled next to none,
In consultation wisely thought
That one might live where two could not.
They at the dreadful prospect started,
Shook hands, and then in friendship parted.
"And now the muse is very loth,
But must comply to lose them both,
And be as strange to one and t'other,
As they themselves were to each other.
"A partnership is no more thought on,
Each hero stands on his own bottom.

The Barbers.
What interesting adventures fell
To each, the humble muse can't tell.
Therefore from now shall slip the time,
Lest she should fib, for that's a crime.
Only 'tis needful you should be
Inform'd they travell'd land and sea,
As many anecdotes befel,
That, if collected, they would swell
Into two volumes of such size
That Lowe himself would deem a prize.
They'd find upon his shelf a place,
And that great literary grace;
Nay, stand alone to public view,
For every sentence would be true.
" The muse had sought them all day long,
That she might bring them into song,
Examin'd Europe up and down,
In every city, every town:
But had her labour for her pain.
There's many a muse has wrought in vain.
" But, as the troubles of the day
Were centred in America,
She searched that continent around,
As there she sought, so there she found,
Found there one shaver and his brother,
Although they could not find each other.
This single instance shows to you
What assiduity will do,
And proves most clear one half my text;
Have patience, and I'll prove the next.
"Hearson, a private grenadier,
Serv'd in Virginia, full of fear,
Under Cornwallis as his lord,
At Gloucester, where he sheath'd the sword;
While Cook by merit rose of course,
Who then a captain was of horse.
He drew the sword, put armour on,
Under that Fabius Washington.
Thus talents always get the start,
And now I've proved the second part.
"Our pair of shavers soldiers made,
Could not completely change their trade,
CC

385

386

The Barbers.
For long accustom'd blood to draw,
Which time has ratified a law,
Preserv'd by making others feel
Their art of cutting with sharp steel.
This diff'rence from their former tradeThey gloried in the wounds they made;
Whereas before the injured sat
To have his wounds dress'd with old hat;
While he the sorry razor blame,
A gentle blush denoting shame.
The forces of the British nation
At New York chiefly had their station.
The first commander, to be brief,
Omitting to send such relief,
For reasons to himself known best,
As brave Cornwallis might request;
He thus expos'd, and void of hope,
With one to five he could not cope;
His little army and the day
To Washington became a prey;
Assisted by the arms of France,
To stand against them he'd no chance.
Hearson, the six-foot grenadier,
With many of his comrades, were
Made-prisoners by a single look
Of the short, blear-eyed Captain Cook.
" Thus have we stated by the muse
The want of talents and the use.
" Turn back four leaves it may be seen in
The captain's eye express'd some meaning.
That keen eye had to Hearson flown
Before our Captain Cook was known;
But ere three minutes time could tell
They recognis'd each other well.
Where one disinterested might view
Astonishment had seized the two.
Though each of diff'rent parties were,
Approach'd each other void of fear,
Which eas'ly will this truth implyTwo enemies may meet with joy.
But will this awful one impart
Enough to pierce a feeling heart,

The Barbers.
That fathers, children, friend, and brother,
Are left to fight against each other.
Of all the mischief histories boast,
Our civil broils have done the most.
GRENADIER.

By fortune is your honour grown
O'er heads much taller than your own.
You win the race, obtain the prize,
From legs of a superior size.
CAPTAIN.

On English ground we parted poor,
But now I see you rather lower.
Though much distress'd, I knew you free,
But now a prisoner are to me;
Both you and yours are in my hand,
Nay, e'en your life at my command,
But you shall see one trouble end,
You are the prisoner of a friend,
The iron bands which prisoners share
Shall turn to silk for you to wear.
Come to my tent, for there I live,
And take the best which I can give.
GRENADIER.

How could you, contrary to law,
Your sword against your country draw,
Hazard a life, which is your all,
Against a shado, on a wall,
For if you win you still remain
Just as you were, you nothing gain.
CAPTAIN.

A nation when it once divides
Immediately becomes two sides.
Which then's my country of the two,
That which I am fighting for, or you.?
Perhaps it ne'er engaged your thought,
You fight it for a daily groat.
To wrangling politics adieu,
'Tis time to act the friend to you,
CC2

387

388

The Barbers.
For if the lucky minute flies
It ne'er returns to cheer the eyes.
'Tis dangerous in this place to stay,
You instantly must haste away.
Take these ten dollars for your use,
The best companions you can choose.
You shall be told the counter-sign,
Which will escort you through the line:
Your greatest danger '11 then ensue,
For if the provo catches you
An instant death will you await,
He'll hang you up in spite of fate.
" The barbers, or the soldiers rather,
Must now shake hands and part for ever.
'Tis well our feeble eyes can't look
Into the volume of Fate's book,
For then our happiness must end
To read of parting with a friend.
" He passed the lines in sober fear,
For enemies were always near,
And must, for desp'rate is his case,
The savage provo's regions face.
His strength must teach his feet to fly,
And fear keen glances from his eye,
Forgetting, through the dread of death,
The want of strength, the want of breath.
"But now, surveying matters round,
He viewed himself on milder ground.
Escaped, he saw as thoughts arise,
From twenty thousand enemies,
Each coveting his life to end,
And in that number but one friend,
And yet that one prevents his fall,
By skill he counteracted all.
" Hearson, by fortune now made low,
Knew not for what, or where to go.
A moving outcast in disgrace,
Was of no use and filled no place,
Assembled with the lowest class,
Their manners rough, their faces brass.

Edgar and Elfrida.

389

While Cook, attaining his desire,
Had risen high, was rising higher,
And with superiors could abide
Whose talents half the globe could guide.
"Poor Hearson, ragged, left alone,
His shoes and all his dollars gone,
All his adventures so ill sped,
Half wish'd that he'd been knocked o' th' head,
Like Noah's dove he found no rest,
With hunger and fatigue oppress'd.
"At length he reach'd his native shore
From which he never ventured more.
In Birmingham appear'd about,
And took his stand where he set out.
The razor he resumed once more,
And bled me as he'd done before.
"April 4th, 1793."

EDGAR AND ELFRIDA.
The publication of " The Barbers " was followed in the same
year by another poetical production, entitled "Edgar and
Elfrida, a poem." This was Hutton's ninth published work.

THE ROMAN WALL.
In 1802 Hutton's tenth work, the history of the Roman
Wall, was published. This was the first book written from
actual personal survey which had been prepared on this
subject, and it has remained a valuable text-book ever since.
Indeed, until the recent sumptuous and priceless works of Dr.
Collingwood Bruce on the Roman Wall, Hutton's volume has
been the only one on the subject which could be referred to.
It is entitled "The History of the Roman Wall which crosses
the Island of Britain from the German Ocean to the Irish
Sea. Describing its ancient state, and its appearance in
the year 18oi. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S." It was published
in 1802, and was dedicated to John Nichols, Esq., the author

390-

Tle Roman

TWall.

of the History of Leicestershire. A second edition, with
corrections, was issued in 1813, to which a portrait of the
author was added.
The preface to the first edition is so thoroughly characteristic
of its author and his style, that I here give it in full
" There are few pursuits in the compass of letters more dry
than that of antiquity. The antiquary feeds upon withered
husks, which none can relish but himself; nor does he seem to
possess the art of dressing up his dried morsel to 'suit the
palate of a reader, for his language is often as dry as his
subject, as if the smile was an enemy to truth. Mere dull
description, like a burnt cinder, is dead matter. If he designs
a treat, why not infuse a little spice to suit the taste of his
guest? The description also of antiquities is not only the
dullest of all descriptions, but is rendered more dull by abstruse
terms; by as much learning as the author can muster, and
Latin, as the page can conveniently hold. Instead of inviting,
it rather repels a reader. Thus truth, dressed out like a beau
in flourishing trappings, is scarcely known ; but would please
in a plain dress.
" My dear and learned reader, though I treat of the Latins,
I have no Latin with which I can treat you; my language, like
myself, will display something of the Quaker. I would enliven
truth with the smile, with the anecdote; and, while I travel
the long and dreary wall, would have you travel with me,
though by your own fireside ; would have you see and feel as I
do, and make the journey influence your passions as mine are
influenced.
" The antiquary values a piece according to its authenticity.
A piece of coin, not worth a shilling, will bring many times its
intrinsic worth when its history is known. But if its antiquity
be ever so great, if the history be dark the value is no more
than its weight.
"When pieces of antiquity are common, like old clothes,
they lose much of their consequence. Thus the coins found
at Verulam, which I have seen by handfuls, are almost rated at
nought.
"If the mind is delighted at the sight of a watch worn by
Charles the First, a sword carried through France before Edward
the Third, a spur worn by William the Conqueror, or with a
Danish battle-axe; what astonishment must arise at the sight of
the grandest production of art in the whole island-the united

The

Roan Wall.

391

work of a commander-in-chief and two emperors, assisted by
three powerful armies, and aided by a long series of years !
" Having had the pleasure of seeing many antiques of various
ages and people, it naturally excited a desire of proceeding in
farther research; and the eye, unsatisfied with seeing, induced
a wish to see the greatest of all curiosities left us by the
Romans, The Wall, the wonderful and united works of
Agricola, Hadrian, and Severus.
" I consulted all the authors I could procure, which
strengthened desire. But I found they were only echoes to
each other. Many had written upon the subject, but I could
discover that very few had even seen it, and not a soul had
penetrated from one end to the other. Besides, if those who
paid a transient visit chose to ride, they could not be minute
observers. Poor Camden travelled it till he was frightened,
ran away, and wrote hastily. Horsley was weary and retreated,
but wrote more correctly. The judicious Warburton, whom
I regard for his veracity, rode on, desisted, and then remarked,
'He believed he had trod upon ground which no foot had
ever trodden since the Romans.' He also transcribes Horsley,
whom Mr. Gough professes to follow.
"I envied the people of the neighbourhood of the Wall,
though I knew they valued it no more than the soil on which
it stood. I wished to converse with an intelligent resident, but
never saw one.
" I determined to spend a month and fifty guineas in
minutely examining the relics of this first of wonders; began to
form my plan of operations, and wrote my sentiments to an
eminent printer in London, for whom I have a singular regard,
but, receiving no answer, I gave up the design, and as I
thought for ever; destroyed my remarks, closed with regret all
my books of intelligence, and never durst open them, lest it
should revive a strong inclination which I could not gratify.
" About four years elapsed, when my family agreed with a
gentleman and his lady to visit the Lakes. They enlisted me
of the party, in which they found no difficulty, because the
temptation lay in the neighbourhood of that wonder which had
long engaged my ideas.
"I have given a short sketch of my approach to this famous
bulwark; have described it as it appears in the present day,
and stated my return.
"Perhaps I am the first man that ever travelled the whole

,392

The Rom a

Wall.

length of this wall, and probably the last that ever will attempt
it. Who then will say he has, like me, travelled it twice?
"Old people are much inclined to accuse youth of their
follies; but on this head silence will become me, lest I should
be asked ' What can exceed the folly of that man who, at
seventy-eight, walked six hundred miles to see a shattered
Wall !
W.H.
"Birmingham, April I 3 th, I802."

Hutton thus in his own peculiar manner opens his subject :
"This first and most remarkable piece of antiquity in the
whole island, is known by several names, some of them
erroneous. It bore that of 'Agricola,' which is now lost;
the 'Picts' Wall,' but this seems inconsistent, for they had no
concern with the wall except to pull it down; and I think it
should rather bear the name of the man who built it up..
Sometimes 'Hadrian's Wall,' but I cannot see why a bank of
earth should bear the name of a wall. Our idea of a wall comprehends an erection of brick or stone. Perhaps 'Hadrian's
Bank' would be more in character, as agreeing with the
materials of which it is composed; 'Severus's Wall' is more
proper, because he erected the stone wall, part of which is
remaining. It is often called the ' Roman Wall,' and by way
of pre-eminence, 'The Wall.'
" That man is born a savage there needs no other proof than
Severus's Wall. It characterizes two nations as robbers and
murderers. Nineteen in twenty of our race sustain half this
character during life; some individuals correct the crude
passions, adhere to justice, and avoid whatever is worthy of
blame.
"The first intentional act of a child is an attempt to scratch
the eyes of its mother; the next, wilfully to disobey orders;
another, to gripe a young cat round the neck and enjoy with a
smile the agonies of death; a fourth, forcibly to take the playthings from a boy less than himself, and, should the loser complain, toss his hat into the street, and kick his posteriors. To
punish the brute creation opens a wide field for ferocity; as
impaling insects, winging butterflies, and, if possessed of a
whip, never to let a dog pass without using the lash.
"The next step, as he rises into years, is to hunt after
property not his own, which he tries to acquire by deceit,
chicane, finesse, and, if he cannot accomplish it, would take a

The

Roman Wall.

393

pleasure in destroying it, that another may not possess it.
Should pride or influence prompt him to act fairly, only
increase the temptation and you will find the rogue. Thus
nineteen in twenty declare war against the creation.
" This Wall is also a clear proof that every species of cruelty
that one man can practise to another was here, and pronounces
the human being as much a savage as the brute. This place
has been the scene of more plunder and murder than any part
of the island of equal extent. During four hundred years,
while the Wall continued a barrier, this was the grand theatre
of war, as well as during ages after its destruction.
"Some learned and worthy men, priers into human nature,
have contended 'that civilization increases, and that the world
is advancing towards perfection.' Light and knowledge, I
allow, have made an amazing progress during the last ages,
but that is owing to commerce and the printing press. This,
however, comes under the word polished society, not honest.
Man may be better informed, but not mended; or why did
the Spaniards and Portuguese, in latter ages, butcher the
natives in South America by millions, and take their property?
And why did we, though in a small degree, follow their
example in the North ?
"Perhaps a Scotsman would consider this mighty bulwark a
compliment paid to his country; and infer 'It was designed
to bar a superior power and was the effect of fear, for if two
nations could meet upon equal terms there would be no need
to raise a wall between them.'
"A Roman would reply, 'Your country is mountainous,
barren, and difficult to conquer. The rough land is your safeguard, not the people; and the inhabitants are so poor they
are not worth conquering. On these rests your security.'
There may be in both these remarks a wider opening for truth
than for boasting.
" Our old historians always term the Scots 'Barbarians.'
To this I assent. They surprised the innocent, murdered
them, laid waste their country, took the property, and left the
place. Allow me, without the aid of Dr. Johnson, to illustrate
the word 'Barbarian.'
Julius Caesar, Agricola, Antonine,
Severus, &c., went one step farther than the Scots; they surprised, murdered, plundered, and kept possession. Our
venerable ancestors too, the Saxons, Danes, and Normans,
who came over in swarms, butchered, robbed, and possessed;

Tke Roman Wall.

394

although they had no more right than I have to your coat.
Whoever deprives an unoffending man of his right comes
under this word. It follows, no war can be justified but that
of defence.
" It is an old remark, that 'Idleness is introductive of misThe Picts, now Highlanders, confirm this remark;
chief.'
strangers to commerce, to the arts, and from the barrenness of
the country, almost to agriculture, they led a life of indolence.
Their chief avocations were hunting, basking in the sun, procuring fuel from the heath, and fish from the water. In some
of these the women bore a part.
" Idleness of body promotes idleness of mind. They were
savage, voracious, domineering, except to their chiefs, who
were as savage as themselves, but to them they paid implicit
obedience. Servility is the attendant upon a mind debased.
Men thus situated must feel the effects of want. Nature and
necessity made them courageous. At the beck of the chief
they entered the Lowlands, which they sometimes robbed, but
oftener joined the inhabitants in partnership, and penetrated the borders between Scotland and England; and when
not opposed, killed, burnt, and pilfered at pleasure, then returned, singing in Erse, their native tongue.
" While the Britons were supine, or quarrelling with each
other, or while their power was withdrawn from the frontiers
and employed against other enemies, the Scots and Picts
-made their inroads. Booty was the word, but this could not
be had without blood.
"This astonishing rampart, the production of three eminent
persons, and at three different periods, was designed to remedy
the mischiefs described."
Our author then goes on with his subject, speaking of
"Agricola's Work," "Hadrian's Wall or rather Works,"
" Severus's

Wall,"

"Stations,"

"

Castles,"

and

"

Turrets ;"

under the latter heading giving a long account of the Border
warfare of later times, with reports of the charges brought by
the West Marches of England against the Marches of Scotland in the sixteenth century, and the bills of damage (presented to English Commissioners) done by the English against
the West Marches of Scotland in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. He then thus proceeds :
"Having described the ancient state of the Wall and
manners of the inhabitants, I shall now take the liberty of

The Roman Wall.

395

giving my introductory approach to this once grand object, and
describe its present state.
"Thirteen months elapsed after we had resolved upon our
journey, when our friends declined the adventure; but we,
having fed upon the imaginary but delightful repast, could not
relinquish it.
"I procured for myself the exclusive privilege of walking,
which of all the modes of travelling I prefer. My daughter
rode behind her servant, and we agreed not to impede each
other on the way, but meet at certain inns for refreshment
and rest.
" I was dressed in black, a kind of religious travelling warrant,
but divested of assuming airs, and had a budget of the same
colour and materials, much like a dragoon's cartridge-box or
postman's letter-pouch, in which were deposited the maps of
Cumberland, Northumberland, and the Wall, with its appendages; all three taken out of Gough's edition of the Britannia;
also Warburton's Map, of the Wall, with my own remarks,
&c.
"To this little pocket I fastened with a strap an umbrella
in a green case, for I was not likely to have a six weeks' tour
without wet, and slung it over that shoulder which was the
least tired.
And now, July the 4th, i8oi, we began our
march."
This " march " was by way of Sutton, where, he says, " I was
once asked by a grocer of this place-' if I could recommend
him to a good wife ?' 'It is totally out of my way; I had the
fortune to procure a good one for myself, whom I value highly,
but have never traded in so precarious an article. But cannot
you accommodate yourself at home?' He replied, 'There is
not one woman in Sutton that will suit me !' Whether the remark redounds to the honour of the fair sex, I leave to them;"
and so on by Lichfield, Rugeley, and Stone, where, he remarks,
"A person of my appearance and style of travelling is so
seldom seen upon the high road, that the crowds I met in my
whole journey viewed me with an eye of wonder and inquiry,
as if ready to cry out, 'In the name of the Father, &c., what
art?' and I have reason to believe not a soul met me without
a turn of the head to survey the rear as well as the front."
From Stone, Hutton, his daughter, and servant, proceeded
by Newcastle-under-Lyne, Hulmes Chapel, and Warrington"a crowded place, without room for a crowd to exert itself,"

396

The Roman Wall.

and whose " shops are so closely squeezed together as scarcely
t6 admit a customer "-to Prescot and Liverpool, "a place of
wonder i" " When my daughter and servant had nearly arrived
at Liverpool," he says, "they were caught in a shower and
obliged to dismount; one took shelter under a scaffold, the
other under a tree. The lady of the mansion invited man,
woman, and horse under cover, treated all three with the
greatest hospitality, and, what was preferable, with a smile.
We had been recommended to the King's Arms in Water
Street, but, though we could not be admitted, the master sent
his servant to procure us an abode. The hill as I descended
to the town abounded with windmills, but the houses afterwards rising round them, I observed had obliged them to
shorten sail. The stranger is surprised to see the street crowded
The style of business is amazing, and is
with shipping!
enough to ruin Bristol and eclipse London." "I went on
board a vessel of 500 tons, i10ofeet long, which was allowed
Among the curiosities I saw was the
to carry 365 slaves.
famous Dr. Solomon, whom I knew, many years ago, in very
different circumstances. We should be apt to conclude that
man must sell a large quantity of health, who accumulates
60,000ooo. by the sale, as it is said the doctor has done."
From Liverpool Hutton's way lay through Ormskirk, Preston,
where " the inhabitants are said to be proud, which I did not
observe, except in one person, dressed like a clergyman, who
refused a civil answer to the trifling inquiries of a stranger," and
Garstang. "Our arrival (at Garstang) was on the evening of
the fair day, Saturday, July ii, i8oi, which becoming rainy,
we were amused from the windows with the country lasses,
large as troopers, in their best array, with their garments
tucked up to avoid the wet, which exhibited limbs of a gigantic
size, well adapted for working, running, or kicking. The men
also bore the same characteristics, and we could scarcely forbear
concluding the human race was of a superior size." Lancaster
was the next stage, and then Heysham, where the Huttons
remained two nights, and then went on to Hest Bank or Kent
Sands. "As strangers," says our author, "we felt a small
degree of anxiety about crossing the Kent Sands, an arm of
the sea, which lay at our feet, and which we designed to attempt
the next morning. The guide told us they were twelve miles
over, some said eleven, others nine, but the real truth is, I believe, eight.

The Roman Wall.

397

"We agreed with our landlord to take us over for 5s. and
some grog, though the carrier's price is eighteenpence without
grog. Our vehicle was a little cart, in which was slung a chair
and cushion that would hold two people, with a bag of straw
by way of mat for the feet.
" We were drawn by something in the form of a little horse,
which had almost learned to live without eating, and of whose
ability we had some doubt.
"These sands, to the distant eye, appear level, but are very
uneven; every tide changes their face, and leaves hills and
valleys. Whatever marks of feet or wheels are left in the
vacancy of one tide are washed out by the next ; nor has the
stranger any object before him for a guide, because his journey
is curved like a bow; a few bushes are pricked into the sands
to direct the traveller, but they are small, and the line is often
broken. The spring tides rise about nineteen feet.
" The eye continually moving forwards and engaged upon
the same flat object as the sands are, is apt to cause a giddiness in the head. This was experienced by my daughter, with
me in the cart, and the servant, who followed the track.
"Two rivers from the mountains run along the sands, the
Kier and the Kent, which frequently change their course;
sometimes they are several miles asunder, and at others both
run in one bed, according to the caprice of the waves.
" We found the water up to the ankles a great part of the
way. When we had passed about a mile we crossed the Kier,
a brisk stream, upon a wide and flat bottom, reaching to the
calf of the leg. Near the north shore, six or seven miles further,
we crossed the Kent. We requested the guide, who had passed
over and waited for us, to go before; it took his horse full to
the knee.
"He appeared a civil and intelligent veteran, who had stood
the cold blast, had passed between wind and water forty years,
and knew to an inch whether his horse must walk or swim. He
was extremely willing to attend, and it would have been unkind
not to have rewarded him. During our short time together he
gave us the history of his profit and employment. His annual
allowance from Government is iol. 6s. 8d. and a piece of land
for his horse, worth 91.more; the rest is the uncertain perquisite
of the stranger. His emoluments, he remarked, had much
declined since the stage coaches ran, because they not only
conveyed passengers who would otherwise have rode, but

398

TIze

Roman Wall.

carriages and horsemen generally attended the stage for their
own safety; this we had remarked during our short stay.
"The general voice of the country is 'the passage is safe,'
and I believe a man may pass it a thousand times without
injury, but I think to venture over once in his life for pleasure
is enough, for if he is obliged to finish his journey in a given
time there must be danger. As there is no road, he is liable
to be lost. He may be caught in a fog or in the night. If on
foot, he may wade half the way and be retarded; if on horseback, his horse may fail him, or he fall sick; if in a carriage, it
may break down, and he lamed. Any accident brings him into
a dangerous situation, besides the evil of being caught in a
storm without shelter.
"Our landlord, who pretended to understand the passage
well, was not, we could perceive, guided so much by his own
judgment as by the mark of the stage wheels which had passed
an hour before us, and wherever they were obliterated he could
not rest, but turned to the right or left till he found them, and
rejoiced with us when the guide came to meet us. In an hour
and forty minutes, however, and five hundred lashes instead of
corn given to the poor horse, we were not displeased to arrive
at the opposite shore."
Newby Bridge, at the foot of Windermere, was Hutton's
next stage on his journey, having passed Cartmel on his way.
" I had now," he says, " to walk up this charming lake, in one
of the finest mornings nature ever made, upon one of the best
roads ever constructed, though uneven, and composed of the
best materials the earth could produce." From hence he passed
on by Ambleside and Ulswater to Penrith. "Here," he says,
"I parted with my daughter, who bore to the left for the residue
of the Lakes, and I to the right, for the Wall," making his way,
in the first instance, to Carlisle, where he writes : " I am now
arrived at the long wished-for Wall. New scenes and a new
task must open. I must appear in the character of an exciseman, with an ink-bottle at my bosom and a book in my hand;
must meet and dine in public with a supervisor, who could not
conceive 'to what district I belonged,' and was too timid, from
my appearance, to ask. I crossed the Eden to Stanwix, a
station where I slept; then penetrated down to Boulness, the
extremity of the Wall; returned through Carlisle and Newcastle
to the Wall's End; then down again to Carlisle, where I first
entered; but although I travelled the Wall twice, I cannot give

The Roman Wall.

399

two. descriptions, lest I confuse the ideas of a reader, but I
shall begin at the Wall's End, as all my predecessors have done,
and proceed to Boulness."
Commencing, then, at Wall's End (Segendum), the first
station on the Wall, the veteran pedestrian began his examination of the Roman Wall. Arrived at the next station, Newcastle-on-Tyne (the Pons A'Elii of the Romans), he thus speaks
of his appearance and the entertainment he met with :
" ' There are,' says my hostess, when I applied for a dinner,
'some gentlemen to dine here; should you have any objection
to dine with them ?'
"' Not the least, madam ; I am open to all kinds of company.'
" My landlord afterwards applied. 'Perhaps, sir, you would
choose to dine in this room alone, upon a dish of fish and a
beefsteak ?'
"'No. I have agreed with my landlady to dine with some
gentlemen.'
"I waited longer than the promise; saw dinner taken in, but
no notice taken of me. Disappointment is irksome.
"'Why am I not,' said I to the waiter, 'summoned to
dinner ?'
"' I will inform you.'

" The notice came. I found seven gentlemen fully employed,
and a niche left for an eighth.
" I was treated with a distant respect, and a small degree of
awe governed the whole board.
"Dinner over, they requested me to return thanks, which
done; 'You seem, gentlemen, to take me for a clergyman, but
I assure you I am in a far preferable state, for I am a free
man, which a great part of the clergy are not. I have nothing
to expect from any man but common civility, which I wish to
under promises, expectareturn with interest, but he who
tions, or even wishes, his sentiments perhaps may not be his
own, and he cannot be deemed free.'
" Their countenances brightened.
"' I have,' says one of the gentlemen, 'seven relations in
the Church.'
"'Then, sir, if you are an independent man, are not you the
happiest of eight ?'
"It seemed their apprehensions of my black dress, from which
they were glad to be freed, had nearly deprived me of a dinner.

Jis

400

The Roran Wall.

" One of the gentlemen gave 'The king's friends!' To this,
though I am no votary for healths, I made no objection; for a
friend will not lead a man wrong; but afterwards, entering
upon indelicate healths, which neither suited the prayer they
had requested nor my pursuits, I withdrew."
The third station on the Wall, Benwell Hill (Condercum),
and the fourth, Rutchester (Vindobala), were next passed and
examined ; and, proceeding onwards, he observes : "The road
(from Vindobala to Hannum) is charming. The traveller views
it two miles each way. It appears like a white ribbon upon a
green ground. Soliciting a bed, I was ushered into a parlour
where sat three gentlemen. I did not conceive I had a right to
intrude, so took my place at the greatest distance. A suspicious
silence immediately surrounded their little table. As I never
made secret of myself, or the plan I was pursuing, I endeavoured to introduce a communication-for truth makes a wonderful impression upon the mind-when, after an hour or two's
chat, one of them remarked, 'You are the most agreeable companion I have met with, but I do assure you when you first
entered, I took you for a spy employed by Government.'
" They cordially gave me an invitation to their houses, but
time would not allow. It does not appear that dishonesty is
totally expunged from the Wall; for, though my gloves were
deposited where they ought to have been safe, yet I found that
some person had made free with them."
The fifth and sixth stations, Halton Chesters (Hunnum) and
Walwick Chesters (Cilurnum), and the seventh, Carrawburgh
(Procolita) having been passed, Hutton writes: "As the evening was approaching, and nature called loudly for support and
rest, neither of which could be found among the rocks, I was
obliged to retreat into the military road to the only publichouse, at three miles distance, known by no other name than
that of "Twice Brewed."
" ' Can you favour me with a bed?'
" 'I cannot tell till the company comes.'
" ' What ! is it club night?'
"'Yes, a club of carriers.'
"A pudding was then turned out, about as big as a peck
measure, and a piece of beef out of the copper, perhaps equal
to half a calf.
"' You must be so kind as to indulge me with a bed. I will
be satisfied with anything.'

The Roman Wall.

4o01

" ' I cannot, except you will sleep with this man' (pointing to
a poor sick traveller, who had fallen ill upon the road).
"' That will be inconvenient.'
" 'Will you consent to sleep with this boy?' (about ten).
'Yes.'
" Having completed our bargain, and supped, fifteen carriers
approached, each with a one-horse cart, and sat down to the
pudding and beef, which I soon perceived were not too large.
I was the only one admitted, and watched them with attention,
being highly diverted. Every piece went down as if there was
no barricade in the throat. One of those pieces was more
than I have seen eaten at a meal by a moderate person. They
convinced me that eating was the ' chief end of mn.' The
tankard, too, like a bowl lading water out of the well, was often
emptied, often filled. My landlady, however, swerved from
her agreement, for she found me a whole bed to my wish."
Leaving Twice Brewed next morning," becoming a gainer
by a broken promise, which is seldom the case," Hutton proceeded to the eighth station, House-steads (Borcovicus); the
ninth, Little Chesters (Vindolana); the tenth, Great Chesters
(-iEsica); and the eleventh, Carvoran (Magna); and in due
time arrived at the twelfth, Burdoswald (Amboglanna). "When
I entered the house of Mr. Bowman," he says, "who is the
proprietor and occupier of these once imperial premises, I was
received with that coldness which indicates an unwelcome
guest, bordering upon a dismission, for an ink-bottle and book
But as information was the grand
are suspicious emblems.
point in view I could not for trifles give up my design; an expert angler will play with his fish till he can catch him. With
patience, with my small stock of rhetoric, and, above all, the
simplicity of my pursuit, which was a powerful argument, we
became exceedingly friendly, so that the family were not only
unwilling to let me go, but obliged me to promise a visit on my
return. They gave me their best; they wished it better. I
had been, it seems, taken for a person employed by government to examine private property for the advancement of taxation. I assured them that my journey rose from the idle whim
of an antiquary; that I had employed myself, and that my
right hand must pay my left." A little farther on he "was
taken for a surveyor of land, preparatory to enclosing the
commons," by a farmer and his family. Arriving at High
Walton, he thus describes his place of rest. "Passing half a

402

The Roman Wall

mile more, -part over watery ground, and the sun down, my
limbs told me I had done enough for the day, and a guide
directing me where I might sleep, I applied to the sign of the
Cow and Boot, at High Walton, for a bed. 'Sir, we cannot
take you in.' ' You must be kind enough to assist me, for there
is no other place in which I can sleep. Dispose of me how
you please, but do not turn me out.' Silence was the answer,
which I considered a favourable one. There were, besides
the father and mother, six children, chiefly females and grown
up. One of them, a young woman, I was sorry to see was
approaching the grave. Although a public-house, they had no
ale, cider, porter, beer, or liquors of any kind, or food, except
milk, which was excellent ; but they treated me with something
preferable-civility. When I rose the next morning and asked
my worthy landlady what I had to pay, I found she would
be satisfied with only a few pence ! Ignorant of the polite art
of duping, I found she knew but little of the world. I laid
down two shillings. In surprise she returned one, and offered to
give change for the other. I insisted upon her taking both. Still
unwilling, I was obliged to promise to make her a harder bargain at my return. When a man serves me with his best in
time of need, he merits my money and my thanks."
At the thirteenth station, Cambeck Fort (Petriana), Hutton
passed by Newton, Old Walton, and "Wall-Head, a single
house in a low situation ! Here the people viewed me with a
suspicious eye when I entered the house, and, I have reason to
think, rather wished me out. A book in my hand and inkbottle at my breast, what could I be but a surveyor of land,
But
employed by the landlord preparatory to a rise of rent!
when I could dispel the gloom and raise a smile I became a
most welcome guest; was received with additional joy in proportion to the depth they had been let down, was obliged to
drink tea and promise a return of the visit. Thus the civil
treatment rose from the removal of an expected injury." Again,
having passed the fourteenth station, Watch Cross (Aballaba),
another of his little personal incidents crops up in the
narrative as follows : " I asked a gentleman who was amusing
hiiinself in his garden by the road some questions relative to
my pursuit; who answered with great civility,' Will you step
in, sir, and take a glass?'
What man like me, burnt up by a
mid-day sun, could refuse ? Besides, I was in a country where
I could not purchase.
The solicitation repeated, I accepted

The Roman Wall.

403

the kind offer. He took me into his elevated summer-house.
'I do not reside here, but come occasionally to amuse myself
with the prospect (which was fine); have brought a bone of
lamb, and wish you to partake.' After a slight apology I made
a hearty dinner, and drank what I chose; in my situation a
small draught could not suffice. From his window he explained
the whole country, attended me on the way, and pointed out
every object of use. 'May I, sir, request the name of the gentleman who has treated me with the most generous hospitality?'
'The Rev. Michael Wheelwright, of Carlisle.'" Other adventures are detailed as occurring at the fifteenth station, Stanwix
(Congavala), and then, after passing the sixteenth station, Burgh
(Axelodunum), he writes, "Jaded with labour, nature calling
for sustenance, and melted with a July sun, I asked a person
upon this marsh 'What public-house I could apply to at
Drumburgh ?' 'There is none,' he replied. 'Then, like other
beggars, I must try the Christian charity of some kind inhabitant, for there is no supporting life without food and rest,
and money itself is of no use when the thing we want cannot
be purchased.' He offered me his horse and gave me a pressing
invitation to his house, but it lay too wide. I entered the
Castle, made a slight apology to a woman engaged at the fire,
in dishabille, whom I supposed was the mistress and the only
person there. I sat down. She returned no answer. I held
a momentary conversation by way of filling up the time and
winning the stake in view. She not only refused a reply, but
would not even look at me. I considered myself an unwelcome
guest and entertained the idea of departing. She retreated
without either word or look, and I gave up all for lost. In two
or three minutes she returned in a better dress, loosely put on,
Former shyness
with a large tumbler of brandy-and-water.
was dissipated in a moment; female delicacy, I perceived, had
been wounded by what she thought an unbecoming dress, exposed to the eye of a stranger. The whole family instantly
I was pressed to dinner, to spend
became friendly with me.
the day, and take a bed, all which I declined, for I conThis
sidered time the most valuable article I possessed."
was at the seventeenth station, Drumburgh (Gabrosentum),
nine miles from Carlisle, and not far from Gretna Green,
which Hutton thus speaks of : "I saw Gretna Green, thht
source of repentance; but being myself half a century above
par, and not having with me an amorous lass of eighteen with
D

D2

404

The Roman Wvall.

as many thousands, I had no occasion for the blacksmith.
had been
My landlord and his wife where I slept at S--,
handsome. She told me that ' hers had been a Gretna Green
wedding, which cost a few guineas, and that she was descended
a good family,' but it was easy to see that poverty, a
pot of ale, and the sorrow of fifteen years, were the result."
From hence our author passed on to the eighteenth station,
Boulness (Tunnocelum), and thus closes his narrative : " I now
approach Carlisle, where I first entered, having crossed the
kingdom twice, under a burning sun, and without a drop of
rain, in seven days and six hours."
The "Conclusion" gives a summary of what previous writers
had said of the Wall ; of the building; the stone ; and inscriptions on its route; and an itinerary of the places through which
it passes.
Of the " Return," which closes this very interesting and
curious book, Hutton thus writes :
" I now quit the favourite Wall, perhaps for ever, where I
entered a stranger and returned well known, for many knew
me who had never before seen me; they had heard of the man
in black, with his green umbrella and black pouch; and I have
reason to think, from the treatment I met with, I could travel
the Wall a third time with the expense only of a few shillings.
I quitted it at Carlisle, where I first entered, after crossing
the kingdom twice between the German Ocean and the Irish
Sea.
"In the evening, after walking twenty-eight miles, I approached Hesketh, ten miles south of Carlisle, and seeing two
or three signs before me I asked a person 'which of them
could furnish me with the best lodging?' 'There is none that
will suit you. Go to the upper village;' where I succeeded.
"The next day I passed through Penrith, Clifton, Lord
Lonsdale's grounds, which are not so beautiful as they might
easily be made, and stopping at the next village to dine-the
name, I think, is Thrimby-I found the larder thinly stored.
There was no meat, porter, cider, or liquors, and, as I could
not drink ale, I gladly accepted a dish of milk.
"A landlady is not apt to smile upon the man who is unfriendly to the tap. I remarked, 'A thunder-storm is coming
on; I will stay a little longer.' She replied, 'You may get to
Shap (four miles) before it comes. Besides, there is a farmhliouse two mi-s off, where you may shelter.' This was a hint

,from

The Roman Wall.

405

to depart. I paid sixpence. She was giving me change. I
told her 'to keep the groat.' She smiled, and I might have
stayed longer.
" Before I arrived at the two-mile house I was caught in the
storm. I entered the fold-yard with a view to secure myself in
one of the out-buildings. 'I will beg leave, madam, to shelter
a little while.'
" 'The storm,' says she, ' is over,' casting an eye upwards.
"This was a second hint to depart, which I obeyed. A
terrible rain ensued.
"I was directed to a public-house in Shap, I think the
Hound, 'where I should be well accommodated,' but when I
arrived I found about half the building was taken down for
repairs. They treated me kindly, and promised a bed, but
when the hour of rest came I was taken through the rain to a
neighbour's, where they had provided one for me. I found it
was upon a solid ground floor, where everything felt cold about
me, the bed perfectly damp. I was obliged to rise, half dress,
and lie between the blankets.
" I left a shilling upon the table and retreated at four the
next morning, without seeing one soul, nor do I know whether
the house was inhabited.
"I immediately entered upon Shap Fells, a region which
surprised me. During six miles did I wander over a most
barren and solitary desert, without the sight of a human being,
a house, cottage, tree, or even an acre of cultivated ground.
The freehold could not be worth half-a-crown an acre. Had
the proprietor been there he would have blushed to own the
property. Had George the Third been there he would have
been sorry he was king over such a region.
"All the prospect before me was only hills upon hills, and
yet this could not be the place to which David referred when
he said, from the Almighty, 'The cattle upon a thousand hills
are mine,' for, although there are a thousand hills, yet all the
cattle I saw upon them were not worth 50o/. It was, more probably, the place where Jove and the giants fought, and where they
pelted him with mountains, for there was ammvnition enough.
"My road led me through Kendal, a large, handsome,
populous town in a fertile country. The castle stands in a
beautiful spot, but is, like others, in ruins.
"Slept at Burton, twenty miles ; and the next morning
breakfasted with my little family at Hest Bank, nine miles.

406

Remarks uponz Nor/th Wales.

" We stayed in this delightful place four days, and were still
more delighted with the company we found there. If to enjoy
social conversation with freedom and with sensible people, if
fascinating mirth attends the hours as they pass, and if friendship rises to the highest pitch to which it can rise in so short a
'period, constitute happiness, I must rate these four days among
the happiness of my life. These agreeable associates were from
Kirkby Lonsdale. I am sorry delicacy hides their names.
" By easy marches I arrived at Birmingham, August 7, i8oi."

REMARKS UPON NORTH WALES.
William Hutton's eleventh published work was his "Remarks
upon North Wales, being the Result of Sixteen Tours through
that part of the Principality," which was published in Birmingham by Knott and Lloyd, in one volume 8vo, of 228 pages, in
1803. It was illustrated by a view, drawn by Barber and engraved by J. Landseer, of Beddgelart, and by three folding outline plates of the forms of mountains. It was dedicated to Lord
Penrhyn.
Having already given so many extracts from this work-or
rather, having given in Hutton's own words in his Life in the
preceding pages so much of the matter contained in it-it will
not be necessary for me to quote much here. The opening of
the work is, however, somewhat curious. It is as follows
" The recovery of the health of her I loved (his wife) was
the cause of my first visiting Wales. I hoped benefit would
arise from exercise of some length, amusement, and sea air.
We therefore, with my daughter, fixed upon Aberystwith, and
set out in a rainy season, about the 25th of July, 1787.
"LUDLOW.- Passing through Ludlow, I thought it abounded
with female beauty; but every place exhibits handsome women
when dressed for church on Sunday.
" BISHOP'S CASTLE.-We slept at Bishop's Castle-so called
from a castle on an elevated spot, now a bowling-green, where
the Bishops of Hereford resided. It is a manor and a borough,
chiefly consisting of one street; cost Lord Clive 35,oo000o/., and
brings into the pocket about 2oo000o. a year, and two members

into the House of Commons.
"OFFA's DYKE.-Four miles beyond, we crossed Offa's Dyke,

Remarks utpon Norlh Wales.

407

the famous division between England and Wales. I quitted
the chaise to examine it. There seems to be about twenty
yards' space between the summit of each bank, and I suppose
it has been about six deep, now half as much. This view has
ever since excited a wish which will never be gratified-to
travel from one end to the other, about a hundred and thirty
miles.
" MONTGOMERY.-Upon an eminence we had a view of the

beautiful vale of Montgomery, ten miles over, terminated with
Powis Castle. The town of Montgomery is small, compact,
and lies under a hill, which when we mounted we almost seemed
to climb over the houses.
" NEW TowN had but one inn and one chaise, nor was there
another between that and Aberystwith, forty-four miles. The
landlord insisted upon his own price on running four horses
and two postilions, and, as we could go to no other market, we
were obliged to comply. We gave him a promise to visit him
no more, nor have we broken that promise.
' LLANIDLOES.-We reposed that night at Llanidloes, a smart
town of about two hundred houses. Here I first heard the
Welsh tongue, and here we had a rainy evening, but the last
rain till my return home.
" Aberystwith was now distant thirty miles, many of which
were over sheep-walks, nearly without sheep or inhabitants,
for not a dwelling appeared, except a distant cottage or two,
without light and without land, inhabited by shepherds.
"SPuTTv.-There was only one inn upon the road, Sputty,
and that produced neither entertainment for man or horse, except a chair for one and a stable for the other. There are now
both. Here we stopped two hours to rest; our entertainment
was a quarrel between our host and hostess, who had in advanced life married a second time, when the powers of affection
were gone, and, instead of one spark of love warming the breast
of either, the flames of hatred were ready to consume both.
The only pleasure found in matrimony was in each blazoning the
errors of the other to all comers. Death is sometimes wished
for by one, but here by two."
The volume contains some very droll and clever poetical
productions which are worth reprinting, as being founded upon
circumstances narrated to William Hutton, or which came
under his own notice.

408

Remarks upon North Wales.

A JOURNEY FROM BIRMINGHAM TO CAERNARVON.
AUGUST II,
TO JOHN

1799.

NICHOLS,

ESQ.

WE long'd for a ramble, and this was our plea,
That we might deposit our ills in the sea,
For he's but a blockhead who cannot produce,
To hide his true meaning, a feeble excuse;
The great trunk is sent forward, Miss knew how to stock it,
We took ten farewells, and some cash in the pocket,
And when the two greys we were mounted upon,

'Twas Hutton and Co. that is, Catherine and John.
Ere one mile pass'd over the rain came to vex us,
But an oak stood our friend, that it might not perplex us,
Tow'rds Dudley, through Tipton and Toll End we go,
,Resembling exactly the regions below;
In fire and in smoke we're condemn'd to abide,

While a crater like Etna lies close on each side,
Nay, the fire and the smoke in the horse track we meet,

For it burns up the road which lies under our feet.
And now Wolverhampton appears in full sight,
Our labour is o'er, we'll repose for the night,
rhe horses well knowing the Swan in that town,
"Your servant, good sir,"---we dismount and sit down.
"To Caernarvon as usual you steer, I suppose,"
Yes, madam, to keep down our wealth and our woes,
If with best dishes treated-a smile in their train,
And charged by fair reason, who then can complain!
Now Tettenhall's fair village expands to our view,
The most charming I ever beheld except two,
For Hagley and Aston-on-Trent I aver,
To the beauties of Tettenhall, though great, I prefer.
If Shiffnial's a town which no beauty embellish'd,
Yet soon it appear'd that the coffee we relish'd;
Now Oaken Gates rise, which make travellers mourn all,
Who justly suppose they are regions infernal.
They may think it is doomsday and wish to retire,
With horror they see the great world set on fire,
And all that occurs while two long miles they tell,
Are noises most hideous, rank smoke, and ill smell;

Remarks upon North Wales.

409

Smoke-dried are the people, you'd think as you go,
As if they belong'd to the people below;
At Hay Gate we rest, for our day's journey ends,
Honest Wilson receiv'd us as if we were friends.
The soft rising Wrekin I mounted once more,
Which often I mounted but two years before;
Nor shall crowded Wellington rest in the lurch,
For again I attended her neat little church.
The smooth flowing Severn round Shrewsbury moves,
Attending like ivy the oak which it loves,
And by its slow motion it seems to declare
A wish that like ivy its station was there;
As you, my dear friend, are antiquely inclined,
You'll see in the Abbey a tomb to your mind,
A piece of dull stone, which by all that appears,
Has slumber'd in silence for seven hundred years ;
'Tis a hero, or rather a rogue cut in stone,
As every man is who takes more than his own ;
Sir Roger Montgomery wielded the sword
For William the Norman, his cousin and lord,
And winning at Hastings, it plac'd in his hands
An earldom, besides a whole country of lands.
At Ness Cliff, a cottage stands under the hill,
Where you with good cheer and good nature may fill;
The landlady treats with the best in her power,
You think it abundant she wishes 'twas more.
Old Oswestry rises, we may if we please
Do just as we used to do-sleep at the Keys,
The town, inn, and country, the prospects and wood,
Will all tend to please, can we wish for more good ?
Farewell now to England, where true friendship lies,
For sea's just beneath us, rough winds and wet skies,
But although the weather began to be frightful,
The roads, hills, and valleys we found most delightful.
We point to Llangollen, where the Dee and P---- tries,
Which loudest and longest can make the most noise;
But this variation will quickly appear,
One pleases, the other will wound the chaste ear;
By want of attention, that's ever your due,
You're forc'd to divide a dull breakfast in two.
Now finding completely we're wet with sky fluid,
We march down twelve miles, and put up at the Druid;

410

Remarks uyon North Wales.

Here's two ancient Britons who ne'er were trepanners,
Because never tainted with South British manners,
Hearts pure as their sign, and you'd quickly discern,
They weather'd threescore, and yet trick had to learn;
We told them they'd plac'd there, and told them no lie,
" A house in our way which we ne'er could pass by."
Through a road as delightful as you'd wish to ride,
And weather too cruel for man to abide,
We reach'd Cernioge, but in a sad plight,
And there we determin'd to rest for the night ;
But what man, though wisdom should come to his aid,
Is sure to succeed in a plan though well laid?
Dame Fortune may step in and give him a wound,
And his airy castle be brought to the ground.
A judge had possession some moments before,
So I and my people were turn'd out of door;
In scenes where distress is, should pity preside,
'Twill tend to relieve us, but this was denied.
Though the night and the rain were advancing apace,
And both me and mine in a terrible case,
Yet on for Llanrwst we're obliged to depart,
With rain in the clothes and with gief in the heart;
Though nothing we thought could exceed this bad weather,
Yet the rain, night, and tempest increas'd all together;
But in our afflictions this thought will remain,
Though the clouds should hang low, it will sunshine again.
Eight miles were pass'd over, but not one with glee ;
We'd a hill to descend which was much more than three;
A brow with so steep and so angry a frown,
It frighten'd poor Catherine, she durst not ride down;
So the poor drowned horses, commanded by John,
With saddle and pillion, were bid to march on,
While Cath'rine and I trapes'd on foot to the town,
Like two water-rats which the dogs had run down;
But when night commences, what traveller sees
If one or if twzo folks are up to the knees ?
With additional burdens we feel incommoded,
Because all our garments with water were loaded,
And just like the penthouse plac'd over your door,
At all points discharges, retaining no more.
We borrow'd apparel, first dropping the while
At the Three Golden Eagles ; 'twas lent with a smile,

Remarks upon Nortlh Wales.

411

Now ducks came for supper; these moisten'd with sherry,
Then o'er our wet journey-we made ourselves merry.
We walk the town through, see what beauties are there,
But find none witin it, excepting the fair;
But though there appears none, we ought not to flout it,
Look round it you'll see nought but beauties about it.
Now a priest with his gun rode full trot through the place,
Had assum'd a drab coat and laid by his black case,
His dogs, men, and horses attended the while,
Who clubbing their aid made a sportsman in style;
Instead of his people engrossing his care,
His flock might be straying while he clear'd the air.
Perhaps he would say, "Though a-sporting he went,
'Twas not as apriest, but a qualified gent."
I'll tell a short tale which you'll think eiropos,
A tale that was told half a cent'ry ago.
Sir Thomas, a baronet, well knew his trade,
Being bless'd with court sunshine, a bishop was made.
While on a large courser his lordship was borne,
Pursuing with rapture the hounds and the horn,
A worthy friend met him ; they stopp'd in full chase.
" I wonder to find you, my lord, in this place;
How can the gay sports of the field which I see,
And a function like that of a bishop agree ?
"When I ride a-hunting, in which I delight,
I lay by the biskop and hunt as the knight."
" But pray if it happens the knight goes to -What becomes of the bisho ? My lord, can you tell ?"
The Conway, the morning, and we rose together,
Again to encounter this singular weather.
The Conway look'd proud, but the morning betime
Look'd rather too sulky to dignify rhyme;
The mountains their wonderful cat'racts pour'd forth,
Which instantly turn'd to white atoms of froth,
Though water the traveller's judgment may bilk,
And make him conclude they are cat'racts of milk.
The castle of Conway with awe strikes the eye;
But who can behold it in rain without joy ?
'Tis noble without, but within rather scurvy,
For gunpowder quickly turn'd things topsy-turvy.
The pride of the sovereign, the dread of the boor,

Now stands as a cipher, and frightens no more.

412

4
Remarks zoiz

North Wales.

The shore, wood, and prospects delighted again,
Nay, everything pleas'd us excepting the rain ;
Rous gladly receiv'd us, set wider his door,
He found us and horses the same as before.
At the Harp we're immur'd while two long days are spent,
Because the dull clouds had not done all they meant;
On the third day we mounted and set out again,
Once more to encounter the wind and the rain.
At Aber the torrents three bridges had dropp'd,
Which again put an end to our course and we stopp'd.
To a tragical incident let us removeOf deception and conquest, destruction and love.
But why bring four-evils to be our undoing,
When any one singly a nation can ruin ?
* At Aber resided a prince of high stateHis moat is yet standing-Llewelin the Great.
In.his wars with the English success was his doom,*
He took a knight prisoner and kept him at home ;
A friendship succeeded, companions they were,
Whate'er the prince ate, the knight had a share.
The captive had beauty, the princess knew this,
She wish'd his embraces, he long'd for a kiss.
When sentiments harmonize 'tis but a door
Which quickly will open and introduce more.
If a private connexion ensued I profess
I'll give no opinion, but leave you to guess.
Although the prince wanted to have him in sight,
And the princess wish'd more to possess the dear knight,
Yet a ransom was sent and the knight must return,
Though the prince should regret and the lovers should
mourn.
Soon after they parted some acts came to light
Between the fair princess and late captiv'd knight ;
Llewelin a letter determined to send
To invite back to Aber his late worthy friend.
Arriving, the dungeon must hide him from day,
Till a gallows was built in full view by the way,
Where on a small eminence down in the dell,
Six sccre yards from the castle--I know the spot well-SAt the siege of Montgomery

Remarks upon Nortk Wales.

413

The valiant knight suffered !-what heart would not move ?
The victim of treach'ry, the victim of love.
While hanging the prince to his lady applied,
Then on towards the window he took her aside,
And while a sarcastical smile you'd discover,
Ask'd "what she would giye for a sight of her lover ?"
When we'd view'd with wonder the charming cascade,
The sore devastations the river had made,
Beheld a small field where good barley had stood
But three days before now destroy'd by the flood ;
Land, barley, and bridges were quite swept away,
And they with the pebbles gone into the sea;
Seen that spot become, which before held the grain,
The bed of a river and so will remain,
We saddled our horses, and with a light heart
Arrived at Caernarvon. Here ends the first part.

EGLWYS WRW.
If the Welsh tongue you know complete,
You then may ride, look big, and eat.

Two learned words, when timely said,
Have saved a hand, a neck, a head;
But two quite simple, I can tell ye,
Have these surpassed-tey fill'd the belly.
A priest in Anglesea, ill fed,
Preach'd a whole year for ha/f his bread;
Sheer poverty, with dismal note,
Stuck closer to him than his coat,
For poverty was always nigh,
But his sole coat was apt to fly.
Secretly pleas'd, he heard fame tell
"A priest was dead-a living fell !"
His shirt and stock he bundled quick,
Slung them across his walking-stick,
Then tramped it up to London swift
(Lord Chancellor retain'd the gift),
Rapp'd at the knocker, shook his clothes,
And stamp'd the dust from off his shoes;

44

Remarks uyon North Wales.
Though rather in debas'd condition,
Gave in his bow and his petition"Which begged his lordship would relieve him,
And would Eglwys Wr give him."
Thurlow survey'd the words awhile,
With now an oath, and then a smile
(Acknowledg'd his defect at last)
And for the first time was set fast.
"There are nine letters in this scrawl,
Yet but one vowel 'mongst them all!
Who can articulate to the ear
When only consonants appear?
Sir, you the living shall receive
If you the English sounds can give."
The parson bow'd again and wrote,
Eyed with regret his threadbare coat,
"The sounds, my Lord, for I tell you true,
In English are Egloois Ooroo."
" Who," says my Lord, "in black and white
Can tell if he pronounces right ?
Why, Mr. Jones * can construe clear,
Belonging to the Commons here."
Jones wrote the words as soon as bid,
Exactly as the parson did.
The priest the envied living got,
Then twice a week could boil the pot.
In cotton gown could dress his wife,
And ride a keffle all his life.

THE VIRTUES OF PLUM=PUDDING.
Are you a parson bred complete,
Yet scarcely know what 'tis to eat;
Should a plum pudding hit your fancy,
Your happiness may ev'ry man see.

EXAMINE Paul, for he'll observe,
"That he who preaches should not starve;"
Attend to what divines have spoken,
"This sacred text should not be broken."
. I had the incident from Mr. Jones himself at Iarmouth.

Remarks upon North Wales.
The farmer's care supports his stock,
The bishop's is to nurse his flock;
Under the mitre, for their good,
Collects them as the hen her brood.
I'll now to Bangor turn my face,
And there observe how matters pass.
Her churches I'll not write upon,
Nor streets, because there is but one;
Nor ninety-two compose my ditty,
Of houses which compose the city.
My thought a nobler theme pursues,
The bishop shall attract the muse,
Whose blessing on his clergy lies,
They're taught to eat, and taught to rise.
My Lord (for I'll due praises give him)
Summon'd his clergy to dine with him;
That man in harmony's a winner,
Who peace can purchase with a dinner.
A hungry curate sat at bottom,
Who boil'd and roast lov'd-had he got 'em,
For though his talents were respected,
Yet that of eating was neglected,
His work what tailor good can call,
When he's no thread to work withal.
On a plum-pudding full in view,
Our curate cast an eye or two;
His plate was fill'd, as authors tell,
All which he relish'd mighty well,
Nay, his lov'd plate was emptied twice,
Yet wanted still another slice.
My Lord survey'd the scene awhile,
And scarcely could repress the smile :
"Sir," he call'd out, with some delight,
"You'll spoil both dish and appetite,
Here's dainties which are much more rare,
I think will please you better far."
With wishful eye, with shaking head,
And heaving breast, the curate said,
" This is my fav'rite dish, my Lord,

But 'tis a dish I can't afford;"
He spoke as sympathy he'd draw,
The bishopfelt as well as saw.

415

4t6

Remarks zupon Nor/h Wales.
When a short season had passed o'er,
His Lordship summoned him once more.
"What ! call'd again ! who can endure it?
He treats unkind an humble curate
No horse have I-to walk on foot,
Brings to the pulpit no repute :
My threadbare coat, who can be seen in ?
Its black is transferr'd to my linen,
And both, should an observer view,
Approaching to one dusky hue;
Tramp with an empty fob I must,
Unless, my dear, you stow a crust."
Now after bows and after chat,
Just saying nought but this and that,
" Sir," says my Lord, " there's in my hand
A living much at your command,
'Twill place you perfectly at ease,
And bring plum-pudding when you please."
No lass forsaken by her lover,
Could a more joyful face discover,
Should he return and bring to view
The wedding ring and license too.
Who would not, to a brighter day,
Through a plum-pudding eat his way;
A benefice just to his wish,
Proceeding from his fav'rite dish,
The curate rose by what he loved,
This was the spring by which he mov'd,
Held up his head, was more alive,
And taller grew, though thirty-five;
He's orthodox, most resolute,
Perfectly sound from head to foot;
Can at his table cut sirloin,
Peruse the papers-drink his wine,
Plum-pudding never has to seek,
He sees it smoke three times a week.

THE WAY TO FIND SUNDAY WITHOUT AN ALMANACK.
THAT parson who two trades sustains,
We must allow has store of brains,

Remarks uzonz North Wales.

417

And yet his clerk, with only one,
Full twice as many brains may own;
But should you disbelieve me quite,
I'll place it in the truest light.
At Aber, upon Cambrian ground,
A sober clergyman was found,
This living held-'tis worth observing,
Its better name would be-a starvinzg,
Which caused this union to be made
Of poverty, industry, trade.
Our priest for preaching had a passion,
Ere almanacks came into fashion,
And, to miss Sunday, was afraid,
As no red letter came to aid;
But it appears, when wants are nigh,
A genius can those wants supply.
Among his poultry, one staunch cock
Told every morning what's the clock ;
This useful point adjusted then,
Each Sunday was told by the 1cn;
Thus must a priest be doubly bless'd,
Who two such worthy friends possess'd.
Miss hen was fertile, just like May,
And laid him one egg ev'ry day ;
The thriving parson thought it best,
" That once a week he clear'd the nest,
And if he counts the first from Monday,
The seventh egg would show him Sunday."
He never thought the week went round,
Till he the seventh egg had found;
And pray what scheme could suit him better,
This egg became the Sunday letter,
Then gown and cassock, book and band,
With hat and rose, were brought to hand.
But who can property conceal,
When thieves are on the watch to steal;
The treacherous clerk had left his bed
(Forgot what in the desk he'd read
Fair written in his godly book)
Assail'd the nest, and one egg took.

"

* Hle resided about a mile from the church, at the back of the village,
among the mountains.

EE

418

Tour to Scarboroug/h.
Sunday, and people now appear
At church, but ah ! no priest was there,
The pious clerk ran back a mile,
The congregation waited while,
And here, I must divulge the news,
He found the parson soleibg shoes;
Of priest and people, we may say,
He menzded though they went astray,
If other souls were then forgot,
We must confess his own were not.
"O sir !" (in Welsh) a little sour,
" The folks have waited full an hour."
"'Tis Saturday," the priest express'd,
"There's but six eggs within the nest '
But we'll not stay to argue long,
He was convinc'd by Roger's tongue.
In horror he kicked o'er the stall,
Threw down his knife and dropt his awl;
But as misfortune haste attends,
He quite forgot to cut the enzds,
But dragged them over hill and plain,
As horses drag the hateful chain.
Our heroes trudged apace; but mark,
One luckless step made by the clerk,
Trod on the ends-the priest fell down,
Besmear'd his breeches, daub'd his gown;
He frowned, he swore, turn'd back from church,
And left his hearers in the lurch.

TOUR TO SCARBOROUGH 6
The twelfth published work of William Hutton was entitled
"The Scarborough Tour in 1803. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S.,"
and was published in an 8vo volume of 320 pages, by Nichols
and Son, in 1804. It opens with "A Preface upon Prefaces,"
in which Hutton says : "An intelligent virtuoso of my acquaintance remarked to me, 'that if an author wished his book to
succeed he should never send it into the world without a

Tour to Scarorough.

419

preface, for a preface was often the only thing in a book which
was read; and that he had frequently seen a preface-monger get
through one with difficulty, and then lay the book by for ever.'
This short perusal, however, enabled him to turn critic and say
he had seen the work, and there was nothing in it worth notice.
Should this slender fashion, like the ladies' scanty dress, be
carried to extent, authors would have as little trouble in writing
books as the ladies in dressing. The title-page and preface is
all that would be necessary. Readers, too, would have as little
in perusal. Authors are of two sorts, those who write for
bread, and those for amusement.. The preface-author who is
only paid by the sheet, would find the trade more hungry than
ever; he could not break his fast till he had written a book.
And the other, in which I class myself, must be wholly cut up;
for I found an amazing degree of pleasure in the journey, and
that pleasure doubled by recording it. I have endeavoured to
please the preface-readers by a brevity which will not disgust.
If bulk offends they cannot be offended."
The reason for undertaking the journey to Scarborough is thus
given :-" My daughter, from being caught in the rain and not
changing her dress, took cold, which brought on a tightness of
breathing. Every attention was paid towards a recovery, but
we could not find it. We were disposed to try sea-air, seabathing, and spa-water, with exercise on horseback. She
mentioned Scarborough, to which I assented. June the i 9 th,
1803, we took the mail, the servant attending with a horse and
pillion. From Birmingham to Sheffield, being 75 miles, was
thought too long a stretch in one day for a sick person. So
we stopped at Derby." His remarks upon this visit to his
native place I have already given under the proper year, in his
life in the preceding pages. From Derby the Huttons proceeded to Chesterfield, Sheffield, Rotherham, Doncaster,
Robin Hood's Well, Pontefract, Ferrybridge, Towton Field,
Sherborne, and Tadcaster, to York, where he says "the
reader will allow me to rest two or three days, if a man can be
said to rest who is twelve hours a day out of fourteen upon the
move." At York, Hutton made the most of his two or three
day' rest, and produced a most excellent account of the city,
its buildings and antiquities, which occupies above a third
of the volfime. From York the tourists proceeded by Whitewell and Malton to Scarborough, "the extent of our tour,
about
miles, and are prevented by the sea from extending

175

EE2

420

Tour to Scarboroug'k.

our march." Of this place Hutton gives an excellent, but very
quaint description.
'The sea," he says, " is an everlasting amusement; often as
a woman's mind is said to change, this is more changeable.
Every look through the window brings something new. Ships
are always in sight, passing between the north ahd the south,
generally from ten to thirty, which have no connexion with
Scarborough. In the morning of July 4th, 1803, I saw two
hundred sail from Newcastle passing toward the south; a fleet
which took two or three hours to pass. They were unguarded,
though at war with France. In the evening I saw the Baltic
fleet move toward the north; what number I cannot tell, but
with a glass we counted one hundred and ninety-eight at one
view, which, to a landsman like myself, was a pleasing sight.
The sea seemed inhabited as much as the land. We supposed
that number lay in the compass of seven miles. They were
convoyed by three vessels; one led the van, another was in
the centre, the third brought up the rear, and each gave us a
salute at passing by."
" The reader," says Hutton later on, in one of his bits of
family and personal gossip, "will be surprised when I tell him
that, during my stay at Scarborough, I never tasted porter, ale,
tea, coffee, wine, or any kind of liquors ; and yet, at fourscore, I can with ease walk thirty miles a day. I know not
how the faculty will relish this doctrine, for luxury ripens the
harvest of the physician. Two years ago I walked 6o i miles
*
for no other purpose than to see a shattered wall. Wandering
day after day among the rocks, I drank what I could get, but
the most acceptable beverage was water; every other liquor
cloyed. From this short sketch of myself a reader may suppose I have lost my taste, and that every article of food comes
alike. But I beg to observe that I never knew but one man
who has experienced so much pleasure in eating as I have
Keep the appetite in tune, and everything has its
done.
relish."
Hutton and his daughter remained eleven weeks in Scarborough, much to the benefit of the latter, and to the enjoyment of both. They then returned to Birmingham, the.result
being the publication of this pleasant, chatty, and agreeable
volume.
* The Roman Wall.

42 1

POEMS.
In 1804 Hutton also produced his thirteenth printed work"Poems ; chiefly Tales. By W. Hutton, F.A.S.S." This was
an 8vo volume of 448 pages, published by Nichols and Son,
with a portrait of the author as a frontispiece. The preface,
like all which emanated from William Hutton's pen, tells its
own tale so well, and gives such a clear insight into the man
and into his character, that I quote it in full. He says:
" Perhaps there is no instance upon record of a man like me,
upwards of eighty, enlisting among the poets, and, for the
first time, handing to the world a volume of verse. I may
Like my brethren of
justly be called 'a short-lived poet.'
rhyme I wish to amuse, but doubt of success. A man may
wish, but not expect. I am not solicitous after profit; but
I do not atshould be sorry if another suffered by my pen.
tempt those flights of modern poetry which demand the whole
attention to understand, and often oblige the reader to recede
a few lines to recover the meaning. Here sense is lost in sublimity ! Na~ I have sometimes doubted whether the matter
was understood by any except the writer. This brings to my
mind the remark made upon a schoolmaster-' that he wrote
two hands; one of them none could read but himself, and the
other was even beyond his ownz ability.' My Poems, like myself, are in the style of the last generation. They boast no
language but the intelligent, neither will the tale admit of any
other. They are remarks upon real life, character, and incident. If the modern flowers of rhetoric do not flourish here,
I have substituted something preferable--truth. I believe
every one of the tales is founded on fact. Many of them fell
under my own eye. The history of my poetical life is rather
singular. Love and rhyme often start together in the career
One half continued till 1752.
of youth; I held both in
During that period I composed a volume of Poems, which
rested upon the shelf, and were scarcely ever opened for
thirty-nine years. Nor did I write one poem in the long interval of forty. In the fatal year 1791, when the mad rioters,
encouraged by those who ought to have acted otherwise, found
ooo.
infinite pleasure in destroying more than i o0,000 worth of my
property, my poor Poems perished in the flames. If they did
not feel, their author did. This loss, but chiefly withdrawing

1747.

-422

Poems.

from public business, awoke the muse, after sleeping a long
age. A few of the pieces in the beginning, dated 1752, which
remained upon memory, I have inserted.
Though the work
should not be so fortunate as to pay the bookseller or please
the reader, it has paid me; for I consider their fabrication
among the happiest moments of my life."
As a poet, William Hutton does not shine very brilliantly.
His productions are chiefly narratives, and their characteristic
is simplicity of expression and ease of language. The few examples which I have chosen from this volume will be read with
interest, and some of them with pleasure.
THE PEN.
In joyous strain the verse should move
Which celebrates the thing we love.

COME, my pale friend, put on a smile,
And we'll in numbers sport awhile.
What though I've made of thee a tool,
Don't thou make me appear a fool.
I own I could not let thee rest,
But rudely stripped thy downy vest,
Ere with impunity wert tinged,
I scraped thee as a pig that's singed;
And, as the, cook-maid serves a trout,
Have drawn thy tender entrails out.
Often, as folks the magpie. tweak,
I've slit thy tongue to make thee speak,
Pursuing still the rude attack,
I've dyed thy slender limbs in black.
Thou tall and slim grew'st in the water,
But, while with me, reducing shorter,
For now and then an eye may see
I cut thy stature one degree,
And when, dear pen, thou'st had thy day,
Like me, worn out, art thrown away,
Our end the same, we're neither free,
A knife cuts thee up-time cuts me.
When rhyme has started in my head,
At dark midnight I've left my bed,
Grop'd for thee, as for hidden treasure,
Just to secure the thought and measure,

Poems.
Earnestly wish'd for break of day,
That thy bright work I might survey;
But looking on when Phoebus rose,
Could neither make it verse or prose.
Thy letters I could not distinguish;
They were not Hebrew, Greek, or English,
Nor in a straight line hacst thou got 'em,
Nor rang'd, like Dyche, from top to bottom;
But marching downward, sinking quite
From hand the left to foot the right,
In all directions flying glib,
Like sparks when bursting from a squib,
Striving which first should.get away,
As if ashamed at sight of day.
In stupid mood, you've many a time
Stood still because you'd never a rhyme.
Again you've been in error caught,
Procured a rhyme, but had no thought.
Yet if by chance, sure nought was sweeter,
You've hit a thought, and hit a metre,
You seem'd as if by joy o'ercome
Between my fingers and my thumb,
And wish'd when laid to public view,
'Twould please the world as it pleased you.
All the returns you crav'd the while
Were to be treated with a smile,
Not of contempt it must occasion;
No-say the smile of approbation.
Let strictest truth and you agree,
Your errors will be charged to me,
Nor ever once offend the ear,
No, not the chastest of the fair.
In politics ne'er make a rout,
Let right and wrongheads deal it out,
An evil grows, you may be sure,
But with that evil grows a cure.
Never with reputations play,
Nor sport a character away;
Much better you had never written,
Nor smite except you have been smitten ;
But should an evil raise its crown,
You're authorized to kick it down.

423

Poems.

424

You'd better be a toothpick made
Than follow the poetic trade,
Unless you can with powers alert
Instruct the reader or divert,
But you'll attain a double worth
If ever you accomplish both.
June 22, 1796.

A SERMON
ON THE

ENORMOUS

HEADDRESS

OF THE LADIES

IN

1777.

OF all the gay fashions the ladies pursue,
We hold that the worst which keeps beauty from view,
For how can those charms strike the heart with surprise
Which ever continue eclipsed from the eyes ?
Then surely the hat must be out of its place
Which skips from the crown and which creeps down the
face,
While the top, like a sun-dial, points to the star,
The bottom's descending twelve inches too far.
If a lover should find himself smitten within,
It can be from no other part but her chin.
She gives up a beautifill face, it is said,
That she may deck out the back part of her head ;
And hides all the charms of her eyes and her face
To show fifteen ribbons, with flounces and lace.
'Tis nature inverted, for ne'er was the back,
Instead of the fopepart, designed to attack.
SThe veritable pen with which William Hutton wrote the whole of the
history of his family-literally worn down to the stump-is preserved as a
precious relic by his descendant, William Hutton, Esq., of Ward End
Hall. It is accompanied by the following characteristic lines in the
historian's handwriting :"THIS PEN
"As a choice relic I'll keep thee,
Who saved my ancestors and me.

For seven long weeks you daily wrought
Till into light our lives you brought,
And every falsehood you avoided
While by the hand of Hutton guided.
"June 3, 1799."

Poems.

425

Bright guineas, bright eyes, and bright diamonds, we own,
Are useless in darkness, but sterling when shown,
With pads and with rollers and cushions placed o'er,
Her head becomes just twice as tall as before.
Like two-headed monsters shall ladies appear,
And boldly attack us with tier over tier.
Whene'er we attempt the fair charmers to view
We're pleased with one head, but disgusted with two.
At Melbourne a Methodist preacher we find
Held forth quite regardless of north or east wind,
For when we've determined a scheme to complete,
We seldom resign it for cold or for heat.
Our intrepid champion, elate with success,
Made this bold remark on the ladies' headdress:
" The pride of our females all bound'ry exceeds,
'Tis now quite the fashion to wear double heads.
Approaching this town to disburse heav'nly treasure,
I pass'd by a head that would fill a strike measure.
If I'd had that measure but close by my side
I certainly should the experiment tried.
By sins a man's said to be cover'd all o'er,
With bruises and many a putrefied sore,
From the sole of his foot to his crown they aspire,
But the sins of a woman rise half a yard higher."
Nov. 16, 1794.

THE SEPTENNIAL STAGES OF LIFE.
1723.

IN seventeen hundred twenty-three
I saw the world, the world saw me.
She frown'd, as having drawn no prize,
Nor was she viewed with cheerful eyes.
Both of us rather look'd askew,
Just as two surly people do.
My mother saw, but not with joy,
"She fear'd she could not love that boy."
The world has since given many a frownLike football kick'd me up and down,

426

Poems.
This truth, however, I can say,
My rattle I ne'er threw away;
Because Dame Fortune prov'd my foe,
' And never gave me one to throw.
1730.

At one time seven, excessive poor,
Must fall to labour, play was o'er.
'Twas then the bitter cup I drankMy covering rags, my bowels lank.
Destined the silk-mill to attend,
Beat to a jelly, without a friend,
To peace of mind what could restore me,
When seven years' rudeness lay before me?
1737.

At twice seven years one slavery's done,
But then another is begun,
And what advantage could I reap,
The strap exchanging for the whip?
No prosp'rous state brought up the rear,
'Twas water changed to dead small beer.
Now the first spark of love appears,
Which blazed in vain eleven years.
1744.
If at three sevens my state you'd have,
'Twas once an infant, twice a slave:
Not master even of a dish,
Poor as an enemy could wish,
My ear quite fill'd with music's hum,
My belly empty as a drum.
Though fond of sol-fa, let me note,
I sold my fiddle for a coat.
The willing ear displayed no lack,
Deprived herself to please the back;
The back, no carpenter by trade,
To please them both a better made.
'75'.
At four times seven, with free consent
I spurned the frame: to books I went;
For who'd sleep in a butcher's shed
If he can wvarm himself in bed?

Poems.
And at this period I confess,
I took a pleasure in gay dress,
Which was exhibited to view
By hiring books and selling too.
The girls I followed with some glee;
A greater number followed me.
1758.

At five times seven, was pleased to see
Three prattling infants on my knee.
A loving wife look'd on, was gladOne of the best man ever had.
What incident could mend my state ?
Was happier than the folks call'd great;
Nay, than harmonious birds which build
In safety near a barley-field.
1765.
Six times seven years we'll bring to view.
I tried for money, got it too;
Nor ever once did I abhor it,
Pleasure came with it, pleasure for it.
Thus Madam Fortune deign'd to bless
My little efforts with success;
Nay, Fortune seldom will refuse it,
But give a blessing if you choose it,
Which is not showering gold amain,
But an endeavour to attain.
For land I chaffer'd: who'd be poor?
I bought for one and sold for four.
1772.

At seven times seven, my wish to crown,
I bought a house and pull'd it down.
What of this purchase could remain ?
Only to build it up again.
Thus an old moon, hid from our view,
A few days after brings a new
The former dress'd in dark decay,
The latter in her bright array.
Two thousand, that I might be seated,
In timber, mortar, lime-and cheated,

427

4

8

Poems.
I779.
Eight times seven years were follow'd close,
With fifteen evils at one dose;
A monstrous bolus, 'tis confess'd,
Which took a twelvemonth to digest.
Keen memory, with Argus eye,
Lets no material act pass by;
One mighty evil was my lot,
Which can't for one day be forgot ;
My dear's last sickness now came on,
And death when seventeen years were gone.
1786.
At nine times seven, to Buxton move,
And try the waters, for my love ;
Travers'd with joy the wonders round,
But health, alas ! we never found.
Attended trade, but spent the pauses
In writing books and trying causes ;
Which last for my reward I found
They burnt my houses to the ground.
Strange ! fire and plunder they brought on,
But never told what fault I'd done.
T793-

To ten times seven the thread is spun,
The glass of human life is run;
But things uncommon sometimes pass,
Time splic'd the thread, and turned the glass.
Such destin'd favours were my lot,
That tens of thousands have them not;
It tends to make the happy man,
When Prudence shuns what ills she can.
18oo.
Eleven times seven have now come on,
Yet mourn what rioters have done;
Though happy in my state I feel,
They left a wound time cannot heal.
Riches are added to my store
Besides seven years, just gone before,

Poems.
- hundred acres ' charming fee,
From debt and mortgage-duty free;
A Poet is but seldom found,
To tune his lyre on his own ground.
I've brick and mortar in great plenty,
Which pay one pound instead of twenty.
My children I nursed on my knee;
Now they attentive are to me.
Time foots it with me on my way,
For more than thirty miles a day.
Nov. 29, 1802.

THE COACH HORSES.
Man, feeble man, is prone to range,
He changes for the sake of change;
Was well, but would be better thought,
He tries, but trying sinks to nought.

How few the people who can tell
The point of time at which they're well;
Give me one instance if you can,
Then I'll pronounce him happy man.
But from the sovereign to the poet,
Not one in fifty thousand know it.
"What, place a poet at the bottom,
He humbly thinks he ought to top 'em,
Because he holds a wide dominion"But we may differ in opinion.
Your pride, dear bard, I'll never check,
I know all nature's at your beck.
Some discontent fell to the share
Of him who lately kept the Bear;
For how could he have trade to seek
Who drew two hogsheads every week,
But mighty anxious after more,
Quite happy if he could draw four.
A slender tavern met his view-"This will the wished for business do."
'Tis done-it sooth'd ambition's vice,
But broke my landlord in a trice;
The Duke of York in splendour shone
Till fourteen hundred sixty-one,

4'9

43o

Poems.
But title, riches, and renown,
Gave no content without a crown
When trying to secure that gem
He lost his all-the world lost him.
Two suits of clothes were William's fee,
" Nay, hold my master, I'll have three."
These terms improper were denied;
In rags he lived, in rags he died.
The beasts have spoke in prose and rhyme
From Master Gay to Esop's time,
Black fleas and spiders who could spin,
Masters of rhetoric have been,
With ease then my coachhorses may
Deliver all I have to say.
A pair of greys, in blithish case,
Would any set of harness grace;
Extreme of friendship you might view,
Firmly subsisting 'twixt the two,
Nor were for years, which strikes with wonder,
Our couple half an hour asunder.
What a choice lesson they relate
To people in a married state,
Most happy must two folks appear
When they're so loving and so near.
Cobbler, obedient to commands,
Was nearly rising seventeen hands,
In manners gentle always did
Without the whip what he was bid,
And never once in all his days
Spoke one hard word against his place,
Whether at home or out he went,
He found his interest in content.
Toby the Sulky was his brother,
In size and colour like the other,
But rather restive was of late,
As if disgusted with his state.
Would stop the carriage in the street,
Nor stir a hand nor move his feet,
Regardless how his master 'd look,
Nor paid attention to rebuke.
A table plentiful and gay
The master kept of corn and hay,

Poems.
But food abounding, and work not,
No wonder he himself forgot,
Ambition fir'd his lofty mind,
He'd work or play as whim inclined.
Cobbler sore injured was to view,
His friend would not his duty do;
As in one cause they were embark'd,
In language of four feet remark'd,
" Dear Toby, I'm alarmed to see
This cross-grained management in thee;
Alter thy conduct and be wise,
Or dreadful mischiefs will arise.
Shall we, like foolish man, not tell
The point of time at which we're well?
While he attempts to change his trade,
Our fortune can't be better made.
Whether in field or stable seated,
We with the best are always treated.
Morn, noon, and night Tom fills our cribs,
The master hates to see our ribs;
Hence all the pleasures which are known
In choicest eating are our own,
Nor have we reason to lament
The falling under punishment,
For Hutton never knew the hour
To punish us because he'd power.
We seldom feel the biting thong;
Thomas's whip, 'tis said, lasts long.
The saddler tells the coachman too,
Where he buys one others buy two;
Neither do we complain of work,
Or slave like stage-coachhorse or Turk.
The joyous labours of the day
Are nothing but a change of play.
'Tis exercise just what is right,
Producing health and appetite.
If of your conduct you've no care,
My master 'll send you to the fair;
Then what a dismal life you'll lead,
The very thought creates a dread,
Both you and I to life's dull end
Shall daily mourn an absent friend;

431

432

Poems.
Or rather, as a match we are,
We both shall ramble to the fair,
Change for the hardest state on earth,
In village stage-coach whipp'd to death."
Toby behaved as man would do,
Knew better than th' adviser knew,
He roll'd his eye, he shook his mane,
To Cobbler thus replied again
" I imitate the human race,
And strive, like them, to mend my place.
There's no complaint of food or play,
I've a full portion every day;
But how can this my conduct bind,
If there's a single want behind?
In friendship I to none resign;
My heart is more your own than mine
But every soul of every race
Strives to be master in his place.
Has not the coachman made a stand,
And clearly got the upper hand;
Over the kitchen, parlour reigns,
The cellars too are his domains.
And have not I by art most free
Brought down the coachman under me ?
I treat him, and without disaster,
Just in the style he treats his master.
Thus I'm established firm and clear,
What then have I, my friend, to fear ?"
When prudence wont support our schemes,
They're just as idle as our dreams.
What man whose head with sense is fill'd,
Would ever on a cobweb build?
Will not a sailor's prospect fail,
Who puts to sea without a sail?
Though other's judgment he'll despise,
He'll be more apt to sink than rise.
Through want of sight we stumble may.
The coachman was soon turn'd away,
And quickly found himself adrift,
With slender commons made a shift.
Toby might now his fate bewail,
Who in the market found a sale.

Poems.

433

His feet sore batter'd 'gainst the stones,
Flogg'd out of flesh, he show'd his bones.
Both want and slavery attends him,
And dreadful usage quickly ends him,
And, gone the road of human kind,
This useful lesson left behind:
" Know when you're well, and there be seated,
Nor by delusive views be cheated.
By climbing up to grasp at all
You stand the fairest chance to fall.
Let your sound judgment be the test,
Nor change, except 'tis for the best."
July 4, 1794.
NOTE.-Toby was sold August 29, I794, to run in the heavy coach, and

in less than a year whipped to death. Cobbler keeps his place to the present
day, August 15, 1804, and enjoys every comfort age will admit.

HAPPINESS.
Read but these lines and you'll confess,
They'll point direct to happiness.
Though plain the picture brought to view,

You'll find the features strictly true.

WHY should the poet ever deign
To coin a fiction in his brain,
Then speciously a tale's unfurl'd
Of falsehood to reform the world ?
When, if of life he takes a view,
There's incident enough that's true,
Which fit a case exact when put,
Just as a shoe will fit your foot.
As no condition man must share
E'er was, or can be, free from care,
So some small joy will be the lot
From palaces down to the cot,
Then that's most happy, we must grant,
When prudence gives what we shall want.
For if great wealth brings care and doubt,
He's happiest who can do without.
To think the same you'll be inclined,
Except "ambition fires your mind."
F F

Poems.

434

But if you doubt the truth I write,
I'll place it in the clearest light.
Joseph and Sarah shall be brought,
They'll ratify the lesson taught,
Young people, who in days of yore,
Laboured for what they eat and wore.
Joseph, a farmer's son, was found
To save by caution forty pound.
As he a married state would try,
On Sally cast a lover's eye.
When they'd through smiling, pressing, gone,
Besought the priest to make two one.
If prudence springs in single life,
It flourishes in man and wife;
He built house for forty pound
Upon Squire Mundy's cottage ground,*
Behav'd as peaceful tenants ought,
And paid the Squire a yearly groat.
To this abode he took his wife,
And took his station during life.
Their whole economy I knew,
Sprung from the stock from whence I grew.
Joining the house you might behold
A little yard, high-named-" The Fold,"
Stock'd well with chickens; ducks a-dabbling,
Besides three geese, most stately gabbling,
Which boldly star'd you in the face
As if joint sovereigns of the place,
And would have said, as you look'd on,
Could they speak English-" Sir, begone !"
One of the bristly race, not more,
To aid the house with winter store.
A crazy barn, with one small bay,
Not overstock'd with corn or hay,
Where strolling beggars, through a gap,
Enter'd at night to steal a nap;
And that was all a thief could steal
From this nocturnal commonweal.
A shed whose entrance faced the house,
This held a treasure-three sleek cows,

a

*

At Mackworth, near Derby.

Poetms.
Whose profits studiously to count
Would quickly rise to some amount.
A garden small, but warm snug spot,
Meant chiefly to supply the pot,
Whose produce made friend Knowles look big
When on his plate it met the pig.
Behind the barn an orchard neat,
Graced with one tree whose fruit was sweet;
This will admit of no dispute,
I've scaled the tree to taste the fruit.
All I've described, an acre near,
Was wholly under Sarah's care,
And not a soul beneath the skies,
Perhaps could make more profit rise.
This garden snug, and orchard warm,
Composed exact our hero's farm.
" Who," says the critic, looking deep,
" On this small patch three cows can keep ?"
Why, the waste lands and open fields
During nine months a tribute yields.
Let me just add to what I've said,
Six sheep upon the common fed;
These were friend Joseph's care, no doubt,
Who strove to keep the maggots out.
THE SECOND PART.

If peace of mind you wish to see,
Let your concerns contracted be,
The more expanded.your affairs,
The more they'll multiply your cares.
What fisherman has cause to fret
If all be well with boat and net ?
What shepherd can exert his sway
Over his flock when gone astray?

JOSEPH in servitude appears,
A labourer more than three-score years,
And with his masters in such grace,
Was never known to change his place.
In winter eightpence was his gains,
In summer twelve rewards his pains.
He, straight and thin, near six feet high;
She, short and thick, with but one eye.
FF2

435

436

Poems.
Two sons, one daughter, and no more,
Came at long intervals as store.
They rose at five, they dined at noon,
At seven they supp'd ; the day was done.
Tea equipage ne'er made its way,
Milk-porridge smoked at break of day,
At nine, repose they seek, and find
Result of labour, peace of mind;
An early hour ne'er threw away,
Nor need they catch one through the day.
In summer time you might observe
His scythe and sickle made a curve ;
In winter days his flail sublime
True as a fiddler's foot beat time;
Should you attend, morn, night, and noon,
You'll find his instrument in tune.
They fairly got their little store,
Made both ends meet, and something more.
No penny e'er sustain'd abuse.
Each answered to some proper use.
The want of money brought no sorrow,
They rather chose to lend than borrow;
Nor would object sometimes to spend
A social hour with pipe and friend :
With none but friends such hour might be,
It could not with an enemy.
If we survey their chimney's niche,
'Twas honour'd with a bacon-flitch;
When to their house approach'd a guest,
They cut that part which seem'd the best.
But what was of more value yet,
The visitant a welcome met,
This would sincerity impart,
Which, coming from it, reached the heart.
Wine, brandy, spirits, or strong beer
Were rather shy at entering there;
Master and mistress were as shy,
This happy cot they ne'er came by.
Joseph and Sarah, modest brace,
The priest gave these, they kept their place;
Unpolish'd language you might hear,
But then that language was sincere;

Poems.
Falsehood in silk will be despised,
But truth's admired though homely guised ;
Into disputes none could decoy them,
The lawyer got no profit by them.
Content, food, work, diseases put out,
And these the hungry doctor shut out.
The parish priest far better sped,
Attentive both to what he said;
From conscience their small tithes they paid,
Although unconscionably laid.
In wedded love so bright they shined,
I'd match them against all mankind.
When fifteen years had wing'd full past,
One angry word had never pass'd,
And I'm convinced the same you'll find
In all the fifteens left behind;
Neither commanded nor submitted,
She ne'er was halter'd, nor he bitted ;
They harmonized in what was done
Exactly as if two were one,
Just as two bones which form one joint,
Or two feet marching to one point.
In scales let two new guineas chink,
One ne'er will let the other sink.
Their style of dress, from foot to crown
Ran many an age of fashions down.
His Sunday suit quite fresh appears,
The Sunday suit of twenty years,
To many a generation known,
Who could declare it was his own.
Their manners simple as their dress,
In all their living no excess ;
With innocence and prudence join'd,
What sorrow could attack the mind;
Our couple to each other true,
Punctual in word and action too,
Pass'd fourscore years, then crossed that bourne
From whence no traveller can return,
Leaving behind, in humble station,
A lesson worthy imitation.
Dec. Io, 1797.

437

Poems.
MUTATION.

IN Nottingham there dwells a lass
Of threescore years and ten,
With whom I jocund hours did pass,
The loves were with us then.
With more of love than money bless'd,
You'd said if you had seen us,
For all the capital possess'd
Was half a crown between us.
An ample stock of beauty we
Inherited, you'd own,
But then the looker-on might see
That stock was hers alone.
She was nineteen, and blithe as May,
And I was twenty-one,
Both pleas'd, while time pass'd smooth away,
But now the loves are gone.
I had her heart and she had mine,
We thought the change most clever ;
But fortune said a nymph so fine
I must not keep for ever.
Our faces not a wrinkle bore,
Except made by a smile,
But now with lines they're cover'd o'er;
Much like the new-plough'd soil.
Had either of us rivall'd been,
'Twould set that one a weeping,
Now neither of us cares a pin
For hearts not worth the keeping.
Her taper waist you'd really think
Made from a London doll;
But is by many a cup of drink
Completely two arms full.
My knee was highly gratified
Whene'er to sit she bent,
But now her ponderous bulk applied
Would make that knee repent.

Poems.
The hairs that grew upon.our crown,
And numerous as our sins,
Unfortunately tumbled down,
And grew upon our chins.
Mutationi waited on those charms
I fancied half divine;
She fell into Miss Conduct's arms,
Miss Prudence fell in mine.
That name's disgraced in parish books,
Once lovely to my view;
While mine a little brighter looks,
Varnished with E S Q.
Familiarized to poverty,
On charity she stays,
While fortune has enabled me
To run a pair of grays,
Dec. 10, 1795.

THE VALENTINE.
The senate, college, hall, and bar,
Famous for flowers of rhetoric are
Yet their persuasive powers are small,
A child of three surpasses all.

THE Minister of State with ease
Can draw your money when he please ;
Although the cash you hold is plenty,
Can quickly leave your pocket empty.
His oily tongue has oft beguil'd,
Yet he must fall beneath the child.
Suett can draw a smile, and Farren
A coronet to put her hair in;
The powers of Erskine seldom fail
To make hid opponent turn pale;
All who in rhetoric strain the throat,
Fade at the infant petticoat.
Near Derby liv'd a Lady Gray,
At Risley, by the turnpike way.
Joining herself to harmony,
With hospitality made three.
She fed the bird, she stroked the cat,
Nay, Towser's tail wagg'd with the pat;

439

440

Poems.
Offended none that e'er you knew,
Whether they walk'd on four or two.
Kept wine that raised and drugs that purged,
For neighbours when their sickness urged.
Whene'er, and what can this transcend,
She saw a soul, she saw a friend.
A life like hers was sure to charm,
Often did good, but never harm.
The bunch of keys, a woman's pride,
Was never known to grace her side;
Her doors unlock'd, she ne'er was cheated,
A confidence design defeated.
Her face, in converse with a clown,
Was never known to wear a frown;
As by the highway stood the hall,
'Twas ready for the stranger's call.
A form and table were in view,
A horn of beer, and luncheon too,
So that the wanderer by delay
Was fairly aided in his way.
The steward watched-'twas Thomas WhiteThe tenant's and the lady's right,
Cautious to hold, and never fail,
Between the two an even scale.
His little son began to walk,
And lisp'd as if he meant to talk;
The prattler, in the hall at play,
Was noticed by the Lady Gray,
For youth and innocence engage,
They hold a power that's lost in age.
She dandled Tommy on the knee,
They both were equal, both were free;
Held conversation tete-k-tete,
The cakes and sugar-plums were sweet.
These visits often were repeated,
But not a visit was regretted.
"Tommy shall draw-come, dress him fineMy lady for his Valentine;
And you'll observe, when up you're led
By Molly to my lady's bed,
To make a bow, my dear, that's clever,
And then this pretty paper give her.

Poems.

441

If she should ask without a frown,"
What shall she give? reply, a crown!
'Twill put, if madam should disburse,
Five shillings in thy little purse."
Now Tom and Valentine were led
Where half was offered at her bed;
As innocence came without a guile,
Both were accepted with a smile.
"What shall I give thee ?" madam cries.
"A town," the lisping child replies.
"I will, thy valentine to crown,
Grant thy request and give a town.
The town of Sandiacre's mine,
But Sandiacre shall be thine."
Time saw, ere two years could expire,
The lady die-the child a squire,
And after forty more, observ'd,
*
The office of High Sheriff serv'd.
enjoys it yetHis family
Who easier could a village get ?
Thus, if you powerful rhetoric seek,
Apply where folks can scarcely speak ;
The most persuasive eloquence
Is found where there's the least pretence.
May 12, 1793.

N.B.-Sandiacre, corrupted into St. Jaker, a village one mile east of
Risley, divided from Stapleford, in Nottinghamshire, by the river Erewash.
The soil is stiff, bordering upon clay, except an acre upon the summit of a
hill, upon which stands the church, in a bed of sand, hence the name."

To show that Hutton's easy style of writing remained with
him to the last, I give, as a close to his poems, three verses
written by him in 18o8, and which have not before been
printed :DECEPTION.

WHEN first I accosted my dear,
I judged she would make a good wife;
Proceeding- but not without fearI ventured to take her for life.
:

1729.

Trip to Coal/tam.

44,2

But married !-if I am believed,
And the touchstone her merit had tried,
I found myself vastly deceived,Thank heaven, 'twas on the right side!
When lost ! and reflecting upon her,
Such virtues she had, I confess'd,
I thought so much worth, crowned with honour,
A woman had never possessed.
May 24, 18o8.

TRIP TO COATHAM.
William Hutton's fourteenth work, and the last printed during
his lifetime, was his "Trip to Coatham," published in 18o8.
In his preface he enumerates the books he had published,
and then goes on to say: " I have also in manuscript the
; the History of My Family
History of the Riots in
during Seven Generations; nine volumes of Poems, of which
the above forms a part; the History of My Life, which perhaps may see the light when I cannot see it myself. I have
often been solicited to write the History of England; nay, I
had a strong bias to perform such a work, for that history has
been my favourite study more than sixty years, which has
brought me acquainted with all the royal characters for many
ages past ; and although I am possessed of the works of more
than thirty authors upon that subject, I thought I could make
But the idea
some remarks which I could not find in them.
of this undertaking was given up, in consideration that it would
cost me ten years of close application, when I had in possession
onily the tail-end of a long life." His idea of a History of
England was therefore wisely abandoned.
The trip to Coatham was undertaken in i8o8; Hutton and
his daughter starting upon their tour on the 7th of August in
that year. The course of the journey was through Sutton,
Lichfield, Burton-on-Trent, Derby, Alfreton, of which he gives
an account, Chesterfield, Sheffield, Barnsley, Wakefield, to
which several pages are devoted, Hunslet, Leeds, of which also
an account is given, Harrogate, Ripon, Northallerton, and
Stokesley, of each of which interesting historical sketches are
given. Coatham is then fully described, as well as the whole

179I

Trip to Coathkam.

443

of the places of interest in that part of Cleveland, and the
wlbole is interspersed with a curious mixture of antiquarian
research and chatty personal anecdotes. One of these, a sketch
of an eccentric old maiden lady, Mrs. Margaret Wharton, is so
clever and so amusing that I here quote it :
"MRS. MARGARET WHARTON.
"When an eccentric character appears upon the stage of life
we laugh at the oddities it exhibits, but if we scrutinize such
a person's conduct we may find much more to praise than to
censure; weighed in the balance of reason, the odds may
teirminate in favour of the person ridiculed-nay, even the
wisest have their whimseys.
I was intimate with a gentleman
ho iltvays carried in his pockets one or two dozen of penkhives, and for no use; yet he was one of the most sensible of
men. I was acquainted with another so very penurious that
he was never known to give away a penny, yet he would
frequently give away hundreds, and sometimes thousands; his
generosity, when the whim took him, kept no bounds.
"I iasd knew a lady of considerable fortune and capacity,
who reflecting that her life might be of short duration, thought
it heedless to recruit her wardrobe. Time, however, passed on;
Howshe ias in health, but her apparel in a consumption.
ever, her motive for not purchasing dress was strengthened
li&fin
she considered there were fewer sands in her glass. She
eoritinued. The wardrobe expired, and she absolutely left
world in rags. She discarded that which is the most valued
thi
by her sex.
"Mrs. Margaret Wharton, aunt to the present gentleman,
was tall, thin, and lived to about ninety-one. She was said to

11'il

hire

been possessed of 200,0001/.

Bddities, but more excellences.

She had some inoffensive

She made a present to her
iiephlw df too,ooo.-an act of generosity practised by few.
"She chose to be her own caterer. Purchasing some eels,
slie piit them in her pocket, entered her coach, and called upon
a lady to take her an airing. The warmth of the body reviving
dite cobhdehnned prisoners, one of them took the liberty of
crkeping out for a little air, being deprived of water. The
f:iend cried out in horror, 'Lord, madam! you have an adder
Coachman, stop, stop ! let me get out.'
creeping about you!
'You need not be frightened, madam,' she said coolly; 'I
protest one of my eels is alive !'

444

Trip

to

Coalkam.

" Though she resided in York, she visited Scarborough in
the season, frequently sending for a pennyworth of strawberries
and a pennyworth of cream for supper. The people conferred
upon her the name of Peg Pennyworth, which never forsook jer.
" Her charities were boundless, but always private: nothing
hurt her so much as to have them divulged. If any did
proclaim them she withdrew her benevolence, and nothing
pleased her more than to be deemed rich.
" An incident occurred in which she displayed her aversion to
public charity. Some gentlemen soliciting her favour, whom
she could scarcely deny (about the year I774, when light
guineas were in disgrace) she pulled out a number of guineas,
and repeatedly turning them over, selected one of the lightest.
This produced a few winks and smiles, but the matter did not
end here. The celebrated Foote, of comic memory, laid hold
of the incident, and drew her character in a farce under the
name of Peg Pennyworth.
"When she was informed of this circumstance, she exclaimed, with a smile, 'I will see it acted, as I live !' She did,
and declared with joy, 'They had done her great justice.' A
gentleman took her in his arms before the whole audience, and
cried 'This is the greatest fortune in Yorkshire !' which
delighted her more, and no doubt she would be equally
delighted, if living, with this concise history of her life; nay,
who can tell but her shade hovers over me, and directs my pen
with a smile ? The entertainment over, a cry was repeated,
'Peg's coach.' 'They might have called me Margaret, however,'
said she.
"In one of her visits to Scarborough, she, with her usual
economy, had a family pie for dinner. She directed the footman to take it to the bakehouse, who rather declined it, as not
being his place, or rather, his consequence would suffer. She
then moved the question to the coachman, but found a stronger
objection. To save the pride of both, she resolved to take it
herself, and ordered one to harness and bring out the carriage,
and the other to mount behind, and took the pie thus dignified
to the bakehouse; what pie had ever been so honourably
conveyed ? When baked, coachee was ordered to put to .a
second time, and the footman to mount, and the pie returned
in the same honourable state. 'Now,' says she to the coachman, 'you have kept your place, which is to drive ; and yours,
(to the footman), which is to wait.'

Trz5 to Coham.

44
445

"A clergyman's wife, having kept up a visiting connexion in
York, the clergyman dying, and leaving the lady in affluence,
she retired to Thirsk with four daughters, and solicited Peg to
pay her a visit. Peg consented, took her carriage and servants.
After some time, the lady began to think the visit rather
protracted, particularly as she had a family of her own to
provide for; but Peg thought that treating the young ladies
with a frequent airing in the carriage was an ample recompense.
A growing discontent cannot be smothered. The lady could
neither find a remedy nor complain. At length she ventured
to hint to Mr. Wharton 'that the pressure was great.' ' Be
silent, madam,' said he; 'let my aunt have her way. I will
pay you two hundred a year during the life of my aunt, and
one hundred during your own, should you survive her.'
"Peg ended her days with this lady, and I believe the
hundred a year is paid to this day.
" After her death, her nephew being in company with his
friends, one of them remarked ' that as his aunt had bequeathed
to him so large a fortune, he ought to honour her memory with
an epitaph.' He replied,
"'Beneath this great stone lies my worthy Aunt Peg,
Who never had issue, but one in her leg.'"
Having remained about six weeks at Coatham, the return
journey was made. During this time, William Hutton; his
daughter Catherine Hutton, their coachman, and two horses,
had been staying at "the public hotel kept by Mr. Wilks," and
here is a lesson in charges for hotel-keepers at the present day.
"The terms were four-and-sixpence a day each for my daughter
and I, including malt liquor and beds; three shillings for the
coachman, and three for each of the horses; eighteen shillings
the whole, exclusive of tea, wine, and liquors, but including
corn. We had an excellent and elevated public dining-room,
with a view of the sea on one side, and a most delightful
country on the other. We lived to our wish, and never lacked
an appetite." Thus, at the principal hotel, a gentleman, a lady,
their coachman, and their two horses were sumptuously boarded
and excellently lodged in three beds and a stable ; all their
food, except tea and wine and spirits, found them; and altogether for eighteen shillings a day!
"We arrived at Bennett's Hill, near Birmingham," says
Hutton, in speaking of the return journey, at the close of this

446,

William Hutflon.

entertaining book, " September 17th, I808. During this
journey of six weeks we run the carriage about 500 miles.
Our passage to Coatham was 184 miles, our return nearly the
same, and the remainder upon the sands and roads while
there. In all this time we met with no accident or interruption whatever, except the temporary indisposition that attended
me at Northallerton, and which was removed by two basins of
soup. But we met with good nature and civility at every
place. The prospects of our journey were frequently fine,
especially upon the Derbyshire hills. The roads in general
were good, and the land better, but more so after quitting
Sheffield. We then rode over a rich and delightful space for
upwards of fifty miles, till we came to the Cleveland Tontine,
eight miles beyond Northallerton, when the same charming
country was continued with the addition of the east moors at
our right elbow, and the west moors at the distance of twenty
or thirty miles on our left, and we in a fertile vale between
them. So much excellent land tempts one to say,' Fortunate
is the man who owns an estate in Yorkshire !' The east
moors continued by our side to the end of the journey, with
the land luxuriant and the prospects ever new and ever
pleasing.
"There is no travelling far without money. We calculated
our expenses at 70ol.; took that sum with us, and brought back
a few shillings. Had a collector on the road stopped us upon
Fradley Heath or Hill Common, we should scarcely have paid
him for powder and shot !"
These fourteen works were all which were published during
the author's lifetime. His "History of the Family of Hutton,"
and his autobiography-" The Life of William Hutton,"-were
not published until after his death, when they were issued
under the editorship of his daughter, Catherine Hutton. It is
these works which I have now, with considerable additions,
reprinted in the preceding pages.
William Hutton, it will have been seen, died at the ripe age
of 92, on the 20th September, i8i5, at the house he had himself built at Bennett's Hill near Birmingham. This house still
stands, as does the "Cottage " where his son resided, but they
are no longer the residence of any of the family, although still
the property of his successor and namesake, the present William

William Huttoin.

447

Hutton, Esq., whose mansion, Ward End Hall, is near at hand.
The "historian " was buried at Aston, by Birmingham, in the
same vault with his much loved wife, where a flat tombstone
bearing this simple inscription"Here lieth the Body of
SARAH, wife of
WILLIAM HUTTON,

who died Jany. 23th, 1796,
Aged 65 years.
Also
WILLIAM HUTTON,

who died Sepr 2oth, 1815,
Aged 92 years."

covers their remains. In Ward-. End church a remarkably
handsome gothic monument has been put up to his memory. It
bears an admirable and spirited life-size bust of the historian,
with his " History of Birmingham " and " History of Derby,"
on one side, and his " Bosworth Field," and other books, on
the other, while his inkstand with the pen laid by, rests on
some of these volumes. Behind this group is beautiful diaper
work, and above this, divided by the elegant pillar from which
the arches spring, are the inscription tablets. In the centre,
beneath. the canopy, are the arms and crest of Hutton. The
inscriptions are as follows :
"'This monument was erected by direction of the will of the
late Samuel Hutton, Esq., to the memory of William Hutton,
Esq., F.A.S.S., author of the 'History of Birmingham,' and
various other works, who was born xxxth September, MDccXXII,
and died xxth September, MDCccxv, leaving one son and one

daughter; namely, Thomas Hutton, who was born xvIi February, MDCCLVII, and died xiIIth July, MDCCCXLV; Catherine

Hutton, who was born xixth February, MDCCLVI, and died
XIIith March, MDCCCXLVI. The above William Hutton and his
son were deposited in a vault in the parish churchyard; the
remains of Catherine lie in a vault beneath this church."
"Sacred to the memory of Samuel Hutton, Esq., who was born
Ivth April, MDCCLXXXVII, and died at Ward End Hall XXlimrd
January, MDCCCXLVIII. Also of his son, Thomas Hutton, who

was born xlIIth October, MDCCCXXIIIl,

and died xth April,

MDCCCXLIX."

I may also here add, that the old desk at which William
Hutton so many years sat, and which until the riots in

1791

448

William Hution.

contained, as he says, all his treasures, is still carefully preserved
by his descendant at Ward End Hall. It bears this historical
note in the historian's own handwriting, " I cannot trace this
desk to its birth, but suppose it originated about 1640. It was
the property of Thomas Spiby, who in May 1740 marrying a
second wife, who held a furnished house as well as himself, and
not having occasion for two furnished houses sold part of his
furniture ; among the rest, this Desk was sold for four shillings
to my uncle, George Hutton, and became the grand repository
of all his treasures till 1746, when, he dying, his goods were
sold, and the desk fell into my hands for the same money.
It then became the sole protector of my property till 1791,
when the rioters seized the contents for their own use, and destroyed every part but the shell. This long and faithful friend
lay dormant in the lumber-room till November 1804, when my
son, Thomas Hutton, repaired it at the expense of i1. 5s., and
it once more commenced its faithful functions.
" WILLIAM HUTTON.
"November 8, 1804.

Of William Hutton, Derby as the place of his birth, and
Birmingham as the town of his adoption, have equal reason to
be proud. He may be classed as one of the most worthy of the
worthies of each. Birmingham especially owes him a debt of
gratitude for what he did for her as her historian, and it is
meet that his memory should be kept fresh in the minds of her
sons and her son's sons by some other monument than this
and the other works he has left behind him.

INDEX.

A BER, 412,47
Aberglaslyn,

27

Aberystwith, 204, 205, 206, 406, 407
Abraham Cock, I16
Heights of, 291

Adam, the Architect, 289
Adelphi, 289
Advertisement of beginning as bookseller, 158
Affeirers, 346
Aldborough, Baroness,
Ale-tasters, 346

196

Alfreton, 442

Alfrich, 180, 189
Alkmund, St., Church,
II,

12,

8, 9, i0,

13, 14, 89

Allen, Thomas, 86
Allestree, 52
All Saints' Church, 31, 89
All the World's a Stage, 44
Ambleside, 280, 398
Anecdotes of Peg Pennywvorth, 443
to 44.5
Anglesea, 413, 414
Apostle Spoon, 9
Archibald, Capt.,

211,

230

Arkwright, Sir Richard, 290, 291
,,

Aris's

family, 290, 291
Birmingham Gazette,

234

Aris, Thomas, 159
Arms, love of, 343
,,
of Hutton, 6, 343
~Shearmans, 89
Ash, Dr., 198, 347
Ashby, Francis, 366
Ashted, 237, 238, 253

157,

Ashton, 284
Ashwin, Thomas, 2 1
Aston, by Birmingham, 47
Aston-on-Trent, ,51 to 58,
92,
io8, 167, 169, 176, 177, 179,

107,
185

190, 199, 208, 408

Atherstcne, 301
Aylesford, Lord, 237, 254
Ayres, 369

B ABINGTON,370
237, 249, 280, 281

Bage, Robert, letters of, 250 to 252
Bailey, 207, 369
Bailiff, High, 346
~Low, 346
Bakewell,.200
Baldwin, B., 197, 208, 337
Ball, 95
Balmerino, Lord, 148
Balsall Heath, 235
Bangor, 415
Barbers, Penny, 290
" Barbers, The," 257, 306, 378 to
389
Barmouth, 261, 311, 414
Barnes, Philip, 115, 11i6, 369, 374
Barnsey, 442
Baskerville, 162
Bateman, Hugh, 147, 370
B~athing, 342

Battersea, 341
~ Enamels, 341
Batting Lag, 8
Beadle of the Court, 355
G G

IAlex.

450

79

Beale, William Franks,
Beare, Ebenezer, 112
Eleanor, in the Pillory,

112,

113, 114, 148

Beauchamp, Lord,. 229
Bedford, Thomas, 179
Beer-tasters, 346
Bellas, 95

memorial to,252, 253, 317

Belle Vue, 241

Belper, Lord, 290
Benet's Hill, 8o, 88, 185, 190, 204,
212, 232, 234, 245, 304, 317, 333,

446, 447, 448
Bennett, Edward, 86, 87, 92,
Thomas, 86, 87, 92,

Bentley, Thomas, 347,

Birmingham Hundred Court, 360
Hutton establishes a
~
circulating library, 306
Birmingham,
Hutton, proposed

363,

Birmingham, Hutton's first visit to,
'33
Birmingham, Hutton's second visit
to, 157,
i18
Birmingham, Hutton's thid visit
toi

16i,
I62
Birmingham, Hutton's last visit
319, 320

111

366

Benwell, 400

Berrington, Joseph, 319
Bethgellart, 271
Biggens, Margaret, 290
Billesdon, 301
369
Bingham, John,

to,

Birmingham, Hutton's History of,
186, 189, 196, 197, 305,

184,

336

to 347 363
Birmingham, [utton's journey to,
176

Birmingham, Hutton's journey from,
to Caernarvon, 408
Birmingham, Hutton's marriage at
St. Philip's Church, 169
Birmingham, 30, 32, 44, 49, 78, Birmingham, Hutton's narrative of
the riots, 210 to 255, 305, 442
79, 88, 89, 128, 179, i81, 189,
Birmingham, Hutton's opinion of,
196, 197, 204, 207, 209 to 255,
279, 282, 285 to 289, 292, 300, 306,
337 to 341
317, 318, 319, 320, 333, 336 to Birmingham, Hutton settles there,
163
389,
347, 363, 366, 378, 380 to
406, 408 to 413, 419, 420, 442, Birmingham, inflammatory handbills, &C., 220 to 255, 236, 237,
446, 447, 448
238
Birmingham, Ancient officers of, 346
Birmingham justice,
booksellers, 158
~
~ button-boards, 276 to
E Lamnp Act, 182, 183,
184, 186, 187278
Birmingham, Canal schemes, 209, Birmingham libraries, 306, 317, 318

148,

257

210

,,

Birmingham Canal, verses on, 210
~ Centuryof life, 252, 341
~ Corporation, 344 to 346
,,
Court of Requests,
186,

204, 350 to 360

L. Jewitt on, 252, 253,

317

Birmingham, Lipscomb of, 292
~ manufactures, 344
~ Morning News, 152
Moses Haughton, 30
,,
New Meeting, 211 to
,,

Birmingham Court of Requests
Beadle, 354
255
Birmingham, Dr. Langford on,
Birmingham, Old Meeting, 228 and
229
Garland House, 186
,,
Birmingham, Overseers of the Poor,.
~ Gazette, 159, 234
181
~ Government of, 344 to
Birmingham, Priestley Memorial,
346
Birmingham, History of, 184., 186,
252, 253
189, 196, 197, 305, 336 to 347, Birmingham, proposed statue to
Hutton, 252, 253
363, 366

252

Index.
218,

Birmingham Public Library,
317, 318

to-255,

Birmingham riots, 210

Burdoswald, 401

305,

Burgh, 280, 403
Burton, 280, 307, 405
Burton-upon-Trent, 86,

442

,Birmingham, St. Philip's Church,
169, 231, 300
Birmingham, Soho Works, 220, 309,

Butler; Sam., 260
Buxton, 199, 200, 201, 202,

SADE,

256

Bishop's Castle, 406
"Blackpool, A Description

''Cadman

of,"

133

204, 207

JACK, 226
and his flying feats,

I 14

Caernarvon, 262, 275, 278, 408 to

207, 306, 361 to 363

Blackpool, 207, 306, 361 to 363
~
rules for boarding houses,
362
Blackshaw, 55
Blount, 6, 309, 326, 330

Boarding Houses, 361, 362, 363
Regulations for,
362
Bolders, John, 258
Boltbee, or Boltby, 13

415

Cambeck Fort, 402
Cambridge, 39
Canal schemes, 209, 210
Canofice, 205, 26
Caradoc, 265 to 271
Careless, 245
Carhampton, Lady, 212, 235, 241
Carles, 237
Carlisle, 279, 280, 283, 398, 403,
404

Bolton, 290
Bordesley, 212, 233

Borowlaski, 123
"Bosworth Field, Battle of," 185,
208, 244, 295, 302, 306, 363 to
366
Boulness, 280, 398, 404
Boulton, Matthew, 220, 309,
Bourne, Henry, 79,

347

Brixworth,

194
242,
Bromwich, 230, 240,
Brookes, 237, 238, 245, 253

241,

Carpenter, General, 21
Carrawburgh, 4uu
Cartmel, 398
Cartwright, 262
Carver; 182, 183, 237
Carvoran, 401

Castle Bromwich, 240, 241, 242
~

Bower, 78
Bowman, 401
Bown, Phcebe, 93, 94, 95, 292, 293
Brampton, 79
Branstone, 177, 178
Bray, Emma, 79
Breadsall Moor, 119
Bretby Castle, 196
Bridge, Gilbert, 10o4
Bridgens, George, 272
Brindley, Jaynes, 209, 210
Bristol, 253

Bruce, Rev. C., 389
Brueton, 183
Budworth, 284

131,

442

347
Birmingham, State of religion in,

155.
Bromsgrove, i66, 168,

45'

.246

Donington, 53, 57

Castleton, 200

Cater, 369
Cavendish family, 117, 139.
Cernioge, 410
Chadwich, I90
Chambers, Mrs., 369
Rev. Mr., 124.
,,
~ Thomas, 376
Chapel Brampton, 79
Charnwood Forest, 159
Chee Dale, 200
~Tor, 200

Chesterfield, 442
Earl of, 196,, 257, 29%~
,,
32

Chigwell, 38, 73
Chillingworth, 226
China works, 13
Christopher, 308

GG 2

Index.

452

Crocket or Crotchet, io6
Crompton, 13, 369

Civil wars, 8
Clapton, 250

Cleveland, 443, 446

Cross Hour, 270, 271
Crosland, John, 123

Clifton, 404

Clive, Lord, 406
" Coach Horses, The," 259, 429
Coates, 235
Coatham, 8, 302, 305, 306, 307,
308, 313, 314, 442 to 446

Cumberland, Duchess of, 235
Cure for the heart-ache, 44
Curtis, 237

Curzon,

II, 92,

Coatham, Hotel charges, 445
Journey to,
~

442

Trip to, 8, 302, 305,
306, 307, 308, 313, 314 442 to

446
Cock, Ahraham, i16
Family of, 51 to 58, 9', 116,
168,

169, 199,

208,

298

Cock Fighting, I16
~ Frances, 56
~

D

Collishaw or Cowlishaw, 78
Coltman, 279

17,
6o,
to 117,

52, 59,
116298, 306,
196, 220, 253, 289, 297,

307, 308, 366 to 378, 419, 439,
442, 447
163, 175) 375 376

Derby amusements, 377
bridges,

370, 371,
11i6

~cock-fighting,
~
,,

381
~Abraham, 380
Cooper, Alderman, 123, 148
Coppoch, 148
,,246,

Corbett, 246

Corporate officers, 346
Corwen, 265, 266
Cotton, Charles, 202
Court of Conscience, 350 to 360
~ Requests (see
Requests), 34,
to 360

Coventry, 79, 128, 136, 237, 374
Cow and Boot, 402
Cox, Catherine, 48, 49, 78
~family, 49, 78, 240, 255
Joseph, 48, 78
Crewe,. Catherine, I117

3 73

china works, 13

,,

Cook, 148

117

12, 13,

37,

20, 24, 311 36,
3
62, 73, 74, 89, 100,

Conway, 411

Lord,

315

Darwin, Dr., 220, 370
Davidson, Dr., 29
Degge, Sir Simon, 370
" Deception," 441, 442

~

Comb-pot, 7
Constables, 346

,,

170

Derby, a good beggar, 376, 377
,,
All Saints, 31, 114, 11S,

Coleshill, 235

208, 216, 305, 350

IT,

ARLE,

3,Darlington,

Derby, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,

165, 166 to 169, 298
Cock, Thomas, 56
Coffin, The, 353
Coles, 212

204,

u1, 121,

Dente, William,

John, 52, 55, 58
Patrick, 51, 52
Sarah, 51 to 58, 91, 107, 1o8,

,

117,

93,

289

,,

Dr. Hutchinson, 376
Dr. Sacheverell, 375
Earl of Macclesfield, 141 to

'43
Derby, Eleanor Beare in the pillory,
1 12,

113

Derby elections, 20, 1 17, 139
~ execution
of Hewitt and
Ollerenshaw, 112, 114
Derby, execution of Joan Waste,
374
Derby, foot-ball, 377, 378

21

112,

History of;" 9,
I18,

119,

141

to

io6,

ioo,
143,

146,

213, 253, 306, 366 to 378

Derby hose, 290
~,
houses where Hutton lived,
89,
"Derby, 95Matlock, Leicester,
89 to
90, 91, 100

1802,"

In' 1ex.
Derby, opinion of, 366 to 368
~ performances of Topham,
123, 124

Derby, "Pretender's House," 369,

45 3

Eden, 398
and servant girl, 257
,,
" Edgar and Elfrida," 257, 306, 389
Edgbaston, 243

Egginton, Francis, 347
'Derby, races on Sinfin Moor, 115, Egiwys Wrw, 261, 413, 414
Elcho, Lord, 148
116
Eldon Common, 202
Derby Ram, 116
rebellion of 1745, 146 to
all, 201
Election ale, 21
149, 369, 370
Elections, contested, 20, 117,
119
I18,
Derby, rope flying, 114,
188
,
silk mill, 17, 31, 32, 60,
370

SH

105 to 110,
426

III,

114,

Derby, St. Alkmund's
Alkmund,
registers (see

119,

120,

Church,
St.)

Derby, St. Michael's, 114, 118
~ St. Warhurghs, 124
streets, 89, 100, I11, 289,
368 to 370

Derby waits, 376
"Derbyshire Yeoman, A," 82 to
84
Desk, William Hutton's, 448

139,

Elford, 250

Elfrida, Edgar and, 389
Epitaph on a spaniel, 182, 257
Plicebe Bown, 293
~
Epping Forest, 37, 70, 71 72

Erdington, 183
Erskine, Lord, 439
Etruria, 220
Evans, 134, 370

Exeter, Lord, 369, 376
Eye-doctors, 15
Eyre, 185, 254

Dethick, 370

Devil's Bridge, 206
Devonshire, Duke of,
139
Digby, 237

16,

Dinas Mouddy, 266 to 271
Disney, Dr., 347
Dix, Mrs., 162
Dolgelly, 220
Dollox, 2, 255
Doncaster, 298, 419
Dosthill Spaw, 179
Dowler, Dr., 163, 165
Draycott, 126
Drewry, John, 366
Drumburgh, 403
Dudley, 198, 241, 408
Duesbury, 13
Duffield, 191
Duncannon, 20, 139
Dunstable, 155

E ARPH, 48, 77, 78
115

Ease, Nanny,
Eaton, Alderman, 367
Edale, 201

17,

F ARDLEY, 6
Ferrars,

95

Ferrybridge, 298, 419
Field, Frances, 79
John, 84, 85, 246
.,Paul,
84, 85
Finch, 237, 240

Finchley, 155
Finney, 15
Fives, game of, 179
Flax-dresser, 51
Fletcher, Catherine, 24, 122
~
J. and J., 197, 337
~

Samuel, 24, 25, 122

" Flying" Cadman, or Gillenoe, 114,
Forrester, 369
Fotheringhay, 289, 294, 295, 296
Fox, Anne, 48, 50, 78
48, 50, 78, 369
~family,

~Francis, 48, 78
Samuel, 369
~Thomas, 369
Fradley Heath, 446
Francis, Mr., 148
,,

Amx

454
Freeman, John, a Derbyshire yeoman, 82 to 84
Freeman, Lawyer, 194
Oliver, 83
Freeth, Samuel, 179
Beauty, 256

'Frowning

GASBOROUGH
Game of fives, 179
Galton,

162

220

push pin, 110
Garstang, 280, 284, 396

Gaunt, Rev. Mr., 293
Gell, 121

Genealogy, 246
Georgia, Colony of, 120, 121

Gerey, Colonel, 115
Ghost, 43, 6o
Gibbs, 375
Gilbert, Elizabeth, 12
John, 12

Gillenoe, the "flyer," 114
Gisborne, Thomas, 148, 370
Glen Velt, 280

Gooch, Sir T., 182
Gordon, Lord George, 226, 227
Gough, Richard, 319, 347, 367
Government, On, 344 to 346
Grant, Major, 206

Gray,

Lady, 439 to 442

Great Chesters, 401
+Greathead, 315, 316
~
Francis, 134, 163, 164,
165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 172, 173,
'74
+Greathead, Grace, Sarah, 52
Greaves, 183
-Green, 246, 341, 347

Gregory, 78
Gresley, 6
~
Lady, 323
Gretna Green, 202, 403, 404
Gretton, John, 21
Gudger, Alice, ig
~ Benjamin, i9
Guest, 342

Halifax, Marquis of, 196
Hall, John, 22, 23
Halstead, 208, 262

Halter, 7, 8
Halton Chesters, 400
Hampstead, 184
Hancock, R., the engraver,
366
Hands, 245
Handsworth, 129,
Hannam, 400

175,

341,

18i

Hanson, Thomas, 341
"Happiness," 433 to 437
Hargreaves, 290
Harlow Hill, 280
Harpur, Sir Henry, 117
Harrington, Lord, 56
Harrogate, 442
Harwood, 212, 235, 255

Hassard, 183
Hassell, Thomas, 261, 273
Haughton, Moses, 300
Hawkes, 212, 235 255
Hayes, 5., 1971 337
Haygate, 409
Haysham, 280

Headborough, 346
Head dresses, ladies',
Health, on, 342
Hearson, William, 381

424

Heath, 271, 272

Heathcote, 148
Heccle, 6
Heralds' College, 343
Hesketh, 280
Hest Bank, 279, 280, 283, 397, 405
Hewitt, Edward, 148
~ Hannah, murder of, I 12
,,
John, execution of, I112,
113, 14.8
Heysham,

397

Hickinbothaml Mary, 53
Higgs, Dr., 256
High Wallton, 280, 401
Hill Common, 446
Hinckley,

184

Dr.,

184, 136, 1452 146,

"History, of a Week," 127

H

ACKNEY, 248
1Iagley,

4o

~ of Derby," 218, 366 to0378
~ of the family of Mrs.
Hutton, 51 to 58

Index.

455

History of the Hundred Court," Hutton family, History of, Additional notes, 59 to 95
208
History of the Hutton family, 5 to Hutton, family, of Mrs., 51 to 58
Frances Amelia, 79
96
Florence Victoria Beatrice,
History of the Roman Wall," 389
79
406
to
Hutton, Ceorge, 10, 14, 21, 22, 24,
Hobson, 212, 235
25, 26,27, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35,
Holmes, 134
102, 105
Holt, Patience, 290
Hutton, Harriette, 49, 78, 79
Holte, i88
Hollymore, 185, 188, 203, 207
Henry, 49
,,
James, 12, r5
Honeyborn, 177
John, 10, 13, 26, 49, 104,
,,
Hooper, 7
408, 447
Horn, William, 218
Hutton, Lawrence, 79
"Horses, The Coach," 155
Martha, 32, 49, 78
Hot Wells, 253
~
Mary, 13, 47,-49, 78, 79
House-steads, 401
Howe, Earl, 117
Hudson, 207
Hulmes Chapel, 280, 395
Humphreys, 212, 234,
Hundred Courts, 305, 360
Hunslet, 442
Hunt, Thomas, 179
William, 219

,
,,

46, 47, 48, 49, 59, 78, 79, 152,
173, 255, -?57, 276, 316

,9

9

Alice, 19
Anne, 16, 17, 25, 26, 34,
48, 49, 78, 105, 115
Hutton, Catherine, 8, 9, 13, 14, 17,
22, 24, 25, 26 to 31, 42 to 46, 48,

79,

8o, 149,
76, 77, 78,
49, 58,
170, 176, 1.77, 178,
249, 261,
274, 281, 284, 289, 304, 310 .to

203,

367, 395, 408, 4109 419, 442, 447
Hutton, Catherine Christian, 79
Memoir

of,

79

to 95, 170

Hutton, Catherine, Works of; 8o to

95

79

Hutton, Thomas Frederick, 79

~

~

Richard Bray,

1159 139, 141, 150, 329, 447
Hutton, Thomas, 7, 8, 9, 10, 14,
17, 24, 25, 26, 27, 31, 33, 43, 44,

Hutchinson, 78
Dr., 376
Hutton, Alfred, 49

99

Matthew, 26

oSamuel, 17, 26, 30, 33, 34
o43 47, 49, 50, 59 to 95, 79,

255

59,

17

Hutton, Christian, 48, 78
~ Christopher, 78
;,Constance Mabel, 79
~ Elizabeth, 9, 12, 19, 23
~ Ellen, or Elinor, 10
~ Emily Sumner, 79
,,Emma Anna Sophia, 79
family, History of, 5 to 95

Howard, 79

William, 14, 17,

25,

26,

27,

31, 34, 43, 44, 48, 49,..51, 59, 79,

So, 97 to the end
Hutton, William, Life-of; 97 to 334
death of his brother Samuel,
42, 43, 278
death of his brother Thomas,
33, 34, 276, 278

Preface,

_98,

99

To the Pen, 99

his family, Ito 50
his birth and parentage, 34,
100

at Achool, 104
trade thought of; 105
wxorks at the silk mill, 105,
426
at an execution,

112, 113

15

death of his mother, 17, I
leaves the silk mill, 123, 426

apprenticed

to

stocking

ing, 123, 426
away, 127

runs

mak-

Iiidcx.

456
Hutton,

Wytilliam,

"History

of a

Week," 127

first sees Birmingham, 133
returns to his trade, 138
makes a bell-harp, 141, 426
a dulcimer, 141, 426
second apprenticeship expires, 144
begins as a journeyman, 144,

Hutton, William, buys estates, i8o,
181, 183, 184, 185, 194,
2599,271

the use of the

~

426

"Pleasures of Matrimony,"
'44
commences as "stockinger,"
150

begins to buy books,

150,

427

begins bookbinding, 150' 151,
427

death of his uncle, 152
buys a watch, 152
first writes poetry, 152
sets out for London, 154
visits Bedlam, 155
returns to Nottingham, 157
again visits Birmingham, 157,
158.
begins business as a bookseller at Southwell, 158
adventuresin SherwoodForest
'59
again visits Birmingham, i6o,
162

takes a shop there, 162
settles in Bi-minghamn, 163
gets a new suit of clothes, 164
first sees Sarah Cock, his
future wife, 165
courtship, 167
visits her parents at Astonon-Trent, 167, 168
his marriage to Sarah Cocks,
169, 427
birth of Catherine Hutton,
170,

writes the

f

171

birth of Thomas Hutton, 173
birth of another son, 174
death of his father, 175
birth of another son, 175
adventures on horseback, 176
begins paper-making, 174

18o, 181

"Description

of

Blackpool,' 207, 361
writes

his

"History

of the

Hundred Court," 208, 360
writes his

"Battle

of Bos-

worth Field," 209
visits London, 209, 210
suffers by the riots, 210 to.255
" Narrative of the Riots,"
215 to 255
" History of Derby," 213
sufferings at the riots, 252

427-

opens a paper warehouse,

bottle,

death of his son William, 180
made overseer of the poor,
181
opposes the Lamp Act, 182
to 184
Epitaph on a Spaniel, 182
builds Benet's Hill, 185
now in favour of Lamp Act,
186made commissioner of Court
of Requests, 186
made commissioner of the
Lamp and Street Acts,
187
takes down his house, 189
builds a house at Mill Pool
Hill, 193
begins his History of Birmingham, 196, 336 to 347
publishes it, 197
made an F. A. S.S., 197
visits Buxton, 199
writes his " Journey to London," 203, 348 to 350
writes his " Court of Requests," 204
makes a ,tour in Wales, 204
to 207

public statue proposed,

j
j

j
j

253

252,

summary of poems, &c., 256
marriage of his son, 257
death of his wife, 260, 261
journey into Wales, 262
ascends the Wrekin, 262, 263

t
11a 'ex.
Hutton, William, account of Oswestry, 263 to 271
thoughts on religion, 273
thoughts on government, 274
again visits Wales, 275
goods seized by Excise, 276
to 278
makes a tour to the Lakes,
279

walks the Roman Wall, 279,
280, 389 to 406

retires from business, 281
makes a tour into Derbyshire,
289
stays at Matlock, 289 to
visits Fotheringhay, 294, 295,

296
visits Scarborough, 296, 297
writes his "Tour to Scarborough," 297, 298
reflections at Derby, 297, 298

poem to his wife, 298
publishes his " Poems," 299
writes his "Trip to Coatham," 302

false
report of his death, 303,
304

lines on the subject, 304
list of works, 305, 306

tour to Redcar, 308
concludes his autobiography,
310

last visit to Matlock, 31 I
Coatham, 314
,,
singing at eighty-eight, 315
last letter he wrote, 316
disappearance of portrait, 316
Pratt's lines to, 317, 318
last visit to Birmingham, 319,
320

illness and decay, 321
illusions of mind, 322
his death, 330

summary of his character, 331
obituary notice, 333
notices of his published works,
&c., 335 to end
"History of Birmingham,"
336 to 347
preface to ditto, 337 to 341

on health and bathing, 342

457

Hutton, William, on longevity, 342
on titles and pedigrees, 343
on characteristics of people,
343, 344
on government, 344, 345, 346
on religion and politics, 346,
347
"Journey to London," 348
to 350

on the British Museum, 348,
349, 350

"The

Court of Requests,"

350 to 36o
preface to ditto, 350 to 352

"Pleasures

of Matrimony,"

352

"The Coffin," 353
beadle of the court, 355
dignity of mind, 356
"The Pump," 357
picture of a man from life,
357
education, 358
just judgments, 359
" Hundred Court," 36o
" Description of Blackpool,"
361 to 363
"Battle of Bosworth Field,"
361 to 363
character of Richard III., 364
dedication to F. Ashby, 366
on streets of Derby, 368 to
370

mansions in Derby, 369, 370
bridges of Derby, 370 to 373
on religion, 373
on ecclesiastical history, 373
to 375
on public amusements, 376
on foot-ball, 377, 378
"The Barbers ; or, The
Road to Riches," 378 to
389
"Edgar and Elfrida," 389
"The Roman Wall," 389 to
406
preface to "The Roman
Wall," 390

history of the Wall, 392 to
394
state of the Wall, 395

Inzdex.

458

Hutton, William, his dress and mode
of travelling, 395
matrimonial anecdote, 395
journey across Kent Sands,

397

entertainment at Newcastle,

399

is taken for a Government
spy, 400
other adventures, 400 to 406

CKNELD Street, 198
JENNINGS, Eleanor,

Jones, Rev. Mr., 413, 414

"Journey from Birmingham to Caernarvon," 408 to 413

Jukes, 212, 232

"Remarks on North Wales,"
406 to 418
poetical "Journey," 408 to
413

" Eglwys Wrw," 413, 414
"Virtues of Plum Pudding,"
416 to 418
" How to Find Sunday without an Almanack," 416 to
418

"Tour to Scarborough," 418
to 420
character as a poet, 421, 422
"Poems," 421 to 442
"The Pen," 422

"On Ladies' Hcad-drcsscs,"
424

" Septennial Stages of Life,"
425

10, 1

Jewitt, 253, 317

K

9

AY, 289
Kedlston

92

3

7

93,1171I18

121, 289
Kedleston Waters, 121
Keir, 220
Keith, Catherine, 42, 43, 47,
762 78
Kemble, John Philip, 319
Kendal, 405
Kent Sands, 397, 398, 399
Keswick, 283
King's Norton, 188, 240, 243
Kippis, Dr., 319
Kirke, Henry, 170
Knott and Lloyd, 406
Knowles, Joseph, 35, 140
~ Sarah, 35

48,

"Coach Horses," 429

"Happiness," 433
" Mutation," 438

" Valentine," 439
The
" Deception," 441
his life in verse, 41
lines on his wife, 425
" The Trip to .Coatham,"
442 to 446
enumeration of his works, 442
anecdotes of Mrs. Margaret
Wharton, or " Peg Pennyworth," 443 to 445
summary of expenses, 445
tomb

in

Aston Churchyard,

447
monument at Ward End
Church, 447
bust of, 448,
Haughton's portraits (Preface), x.
his desk, 448

~S,~~424
LADIES'
1

HEAD-DRESSES,

Lancaster, 283, 284, 290, 396
Langford, Dr., 252, 337, 341
Langley, 185
Latuffier, 370
Lawley, 235, 237'
Leather-sealers, 346
Leeds, 95, 219, 442

Leicester, 89 to 95, 154, 1571 289,
293, 294, 295

Letters of Dr. Priestley, 250
~ last, of William Hutton,
Letters of Llewellynn Jewiitt, 252,
253
Letters of Robert Bage, 251 to 253
Lichfield, 131, 133, 162, 220, 280,

347, 374, 395, 442
Lichfleld Museum, 347

In hex.

459

Life of an Old Soldier, 34 to 43, 59 Mallewd, 205, 269,
Malton, 298, 419
to 95
Life of Arkwright, 290, 291
,

Catherine Hutton,

79 to 95,

170

Life of Robert Bage, 170, 171, 172,

'73
Life of Samuel Hutton, 34 to 43, 59
to 9$
Life of William Hutton, 97 to 334
Lipscomb, George, 292
Little Chesters, 401
Liverpool, 280, 283, 284, 396
Lives of the Cock family, 51 to 58
,
Hutton family, 5 to 96
Llangollen, 272, 409
Llanidloes, 206, 407
Llanover, 206
Llanrwst, 410
Llanvair, 206
Lloyd, 202, 406
Locke, 251
Lockett, Rev. W., 112
Lombe, John, io6 to i I

Malvern, 321, 325
Malws, 206
Mai Tor, 201
Manchester, 207

Manlove, Rev., 367
Mansfield, Lord, 243

Markeaton, 52, 91) 92Y 370, 434
Marston Moor, 8
Market Harborough, 36, 65, 157
~ Boswvorth, 135, 185
Marsk, 314

Martin, Joseph, 1
William, 144 to 146
Mary, Queen of Scots, 294, 295,
296, 365, 370
Maserfield, 263 to 271
Mason, 237
Masson, 292

Mather, Walter, 369
Matlock, 89 to 95, 289, 290, 291,
292, 311, 312, 313

Matlock, notes on, 290 to 293
"Matrimony, Pleasures of," 28,
Sir Thomas, io6 to 114
144 to 146, 149
London, 36, 37, 40, 53, 65, 67, 6S,
Mayor, Dr., 319
154 to 157, 199, 203, 211, 245,
Maxwell, Lieut., 270
261, 289, 301, 305, 312, 348 to
May, Benjamin, 179
350, 378
" London, The Journey to," 203,
, Samuel, 18o
Meat, Thomas, 104
305, 348 to 350
Medley, William, 179
Longevity, 342
Melbourne, 425
Lonsdale, Earl of, 404
Meredith, 190
Lort, William, 79
Loughborough, 36, 57, 65, 104, 146 Mermaid, 90
Meynell, 148
Lovers' Leap, 200
Mickleover, 18
~ Vows, 43
Milford, 1 91
Lovet, James, 11i6
Mill Pool Hill, 193
Lowe, 369
Mills, Harriette, 79
Ludlow, 406
Milward, 137
Lupton, 89, 100
"iMiser Married,"etc., 46, So
Moland, 237
Moles, 182
Moneypenny, George, 366
Montgomery, 206, 291, 407, 409
140
lines on Matlock, 291
~
Madan, Spencer, 237
Monument at Aston, 447
Mad Tom, 124
~
Ward End, 447
Magson, Catherine, 14, 22
Mordaunt, 188
Makeney, 191
Morlege, Roger, 370
Males, 2 12, 241

Index.

460

Moseley, 167, 212, 235
Mould, 245
Mountsorrel, 16, 26, 27, 61, 65, 90,
lO, 102, 104, 150, 185

Old Soldier, Life of an, 34 to 43,

Mundy, W., 92, 434
Museum, British, 348
Lichfield, 347
Musgrove, Charlotte, 79
Mutation, 438, 439
"My Neighbours," 84 to 88

Orme, Moses, 15
Ormskirk, 396
Oswald, King, 262 to 271
Oswestry, 263 to 271, 409
Oxford, 339

N ASEBY, 8
Nesseliff,

398, 399, 420

Newcastle-under-Lyne,
Newport Pagnell, 157

280, 283,

395

Newton, 402, 407
John, 369
Newtown, 206
Nichols, J., 208, 279, 297, 3117

.9

366, 389, 408, 48,42

363,

Nind, 193
Noble, Mark, 341, 347

Norfolk, Duke of, 318
Northallerton,

7, 8, 11, 302, 442,

446
"North Wales, Tour in," 306
Norwich, 41

158,

162,

168,

176,

177,

185,

188, 191, 192, 197, 202, 203, 226,
290, 310, 321, 348, 357, 438

Nottingham Races, 185, 188, 191,
192, 195, 196, 197) 202

Nuneaton, 136

flAKENGATE,
''Oaks,

"Oakwood

142, 143

Parker, Thomas, 141, 142
Parkes, Martha, 32
Peak, Forest, 201, 202
~ Peveril of the, 200
,,
Scenery, 199 to 202
Pearson and Rollason, 197, 208, 360,

337, 363, 366, 378
Peet, Christian, 48, 78
Peg Pennyworth, 443 to 445
Pemberton, Samuel, 179
Pennington, 290
Penny Barbers, 290
Penrith, 279, 280, 283, 284 398,
404

Nottingham, 8, 20, 26, 27, 36, 39,
48, 49, 52, 6o, 62, 63, 74, 77, 78,
79, 90, 122, 123, 127, 130, 133,

157,

of, 112, 148

P ARE, Michael, 151
Parish register, extracts from
(see
Registers)
Parker, Earl of Macclesfield, 141,

4o9

Newby Bridge, 280, 398
Newcastle on-Tyne, 279,

59to95

Ollerenshaw, Rosamond, execution

Pen, to the (poem), 99, 422 to 424,
and note 424
Perkins, Catherine, 26 to 31, 149,
203, 347
Perkins, John, 197
~
William, 26 to 31, 149,
203

Phillips, Sir Richard, 281
Pbipson, Thomas, 179
Phcebe Bown, 93, 94, 95, 292,'293

Pickford, Mrs., 369
Pictuie from life, 357
Piddock, 212, 235, 255
408

large, 289
fll," 8o

Oat cakes, 12
O'Brien, the Giant, 123
Offa's Dyke, 406, 407
Oglethorpe, General, 119, 120, 121
Old boat, 90

Pie, Anecdote of a, 444
~,

curious, 53

Pilkington, Rev.
,~

~

J.,

367
History ofDer-

byshire, 367
Pillory, 113, 114

of

" Pleasures
Matrimony,"
146, 149, 258, 352

144 to,

461

Index.
" Plum Pudding, Virtues of," 414
to 416
Poems, 9, 21, 28, 35, 47, 99, 144,
145, 146, 149, 182, 210, 249, 256,
257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 272, 273,
285 to 289, 291, 298, 299, 306,
309, 31o, 317, 318, 389, 408 to

418, 421 to 442
The Mug, 9
Election Ale, 21
Pleasures of Matrimony, 28,
144 to 146, 149
Happiness, 35
On Catherine Hutton, 47
The Pen, 99
On a Spaniel, 182
On Canal Question, 210
On Sermons, 249
A Day; to Dr. Withering,
285 to 289
On Matlock, 291
In an Alcove, 291
To his Wife, 298
On his Supposed Death, 304
By Catherine Hutton, 304
With his Autograph, 309, 310
By Pratt, to William Hutton,
317, 318
The Barbers, 378 to 389
Edgar and Elfrida, 389
Journey from Birmingham to
Caernarvon, 408 to 413
Eglwys Wrw, 413, 414
The Virtues of Plum Pudding,
414 to 416
The Way to Find Sunday
Without an Almanack, 416
to 418
The Pen, 422 to 424
A Sermon on the Enormous
Head-dresses of the Ladies
in 1777, 424, 425

This Pen, 424 to 429
The Septennial Stages of
Life, 425 to 429
The Coach Horses, 429 to
433
Happiness, 433 to 437
Mutation, 438, 439
The Valentine, 439 to 441
Deception, 441, 442

Poetical Club, 256
Pole, 20, 139
Pontefract, 298, 419
Porcelain works, 341
Porter, Richard, 261
Portraits of the Hutton family (Preface), x. and 300
Portraits of William Hutton, lost,
316
Powys Castle, 206, 407
Pratt, S. J., 282 to 285, 316, 317,
318, 319
PrefacesHistory of Birmingham, 337
to 341
Court of Requests, 350 to
352

Hundred Courts, 360
Description of Blackpool, 362
Battle of Bosworth Field, 364
History of Derby, 366
The Barbers, 378
The Roman Wall, 389
Tour to Scarborough, 418,
419

Poems, 421, 422
Trip to Coatham, 442
Prescott, 396
Preston, 21, 284, 396
"Pretender's House," 146
Price, Joseph, 179
Dr. Richard, 248
~
Pridden, 378
Priestley, Dr., 5, 211 to 255, 309,
319, 347
Priestley, Dr., memoir of, 219, 220,
221

Priestley,

Dr., memorial to, 252,

253

Prior, 55
Proud Masson, 292
Pump, the, 357
Push-pin, I o

RACES on Sinfin Moor,
Radbourne,

115, 116

139
Rebellion of 1642, 8
,,

,,
to 149

1715, 21

.1745, 37, 68, 69, 146

Index

462

SAC HEVEREL,

Rebus, 256
Redburg, 41

Dr., 226, 375

George, 375

~

Registers, extracts from, 9, 12, 13,

Salisbury, 267
Salt, Samuel, 163

14, 3'
Religion, 273
Reliquary, 59, 170, 293

Saltley, 280

S anders, Thomas, 341
Sandiacre, 439 to 441

Remarks upon North Wales, 406 to
418
Requests, Court of, 34, 186, 187,

gift of, 441
,,
S awley,
Scarborough, 297, 298, 300,

Redcar, 308, 314, 315, 316

Reynolds, Mary, 47, 173, 257
Rhodes, Ebenezer, 291
Rice, 231, 232, 233, 245, 251

Richards, 212, 253
Richardson, Nicholas, 122
Riots, Birmingham, 210 to 255 305
Nottingham, 226
,
Ripon, 442

Rollason, 196, 197, 208, 336 to 347,
360, 363

Rolleston, 53, 369
Roman Wall, 279, 280, 281, 282 to
285, 306, 311, 389 to 406
Roman Wall, Bruce's account of,
386
Romford, 38
Rope-flying, 114, I18, 119
139,

179

Ross, John, the engineer, 341
Rotherham,

95,

298, 419

Ruding, Rogers, 369
Rudsdall, Ambrose, 29, 162
Rugeley, 395
Rung, -267
Russell, 21.1, 212, 235,

Scarsdale, Lord, 93, 117, 121, 289

Shearman, 8, 89
Shearman's Arms, 89
Sheffield, 298, 300, 419, 446
Shelford, 196
Shenstone, 192

Sherbrook Dale, 200
Sherburn, 298, 419
Sherwood Forest, 158
Shiffnall,

~,

229,

173, 257,

262,

408

Shipley, 185
Shire Ash, 184
Showell Green, 235
Shrewsbury, 204, 206, 409
.31,

32,

105

114, 1199 120, 426
III,
Simpson,. Moses, 101
Sinfin Moor Cock Fighting,

246, 255

Samuel, 179
Rutchester, 400
Ruthin, 266
Ryland, Alderman, 253
John, 179, 211,
,,

245,

to

418

306, .311,

300,

420

Silk mill, 17,

~

232, 233,

298,

Shap, 280, 405, 406
~,- Fells. 406

Robson, 197
Rochdale, 95

129,

Scarborough, anecdote of a pie, 4
445
Scarborough, Peg Pennyworth, 444
tour to, 292, 297,
~

Schulenberg, Melosina de, 196
Scott, Sir Walter, 200
Sedan chair, 30
Septennial stages of life, 425
Sermon on head-dresses, 424

Risley, 62, 439 to 442
Rivett, 148
Roberts, Obadiah, 348
Robinson, 366, 369

I27,

306.

3",9 444, 445

204, 208, 216, 350 to 360

Roper,

57

231,

255

Ryland, Samuel, 179
~ William, 163, 164, 179,
184, 192, 307

Races,

115,

Shelton Castle, 313
Slade, 299
Smethwick, 184
Smith, Alderman, 148
~ Catherine, 8, 9
~ Lieutenant. 230
~ William, 369
Snape, John, 341

116

to

I10,

i16

Index.

463-

,Soldier, Life Qf an Old, 34 to 43, 59 Taylor, Abraham, 22
to 95
John; 36, 212, 235, 246,
Sore or Soar, Mary, iS, 19, 35, 90,
255

9'

Tenbury, 259

Southwell, 158
Sparkes, James, 148

Terry, John, 183
Test and Corporation Acts, 211
Tettenhall, 408
Thirsk, 445

Spencer, 237, 317

Spibey, Elizabeth, 23
Thomas, 23
Spiggot, 6
Spinning-jenny, 290

Thompson, 254

Thorpe, M.

J.,

So, 82

Thrinby, 404

Spring Dale, 184
Sputty, 407

Tilt family, 166
Timmins, Samuel, 252
Tipton, 408

St. Albans, 251

Toll End, 402

St. Ives, 282

Tombstone at Aston, 447
Topham, Thomas, the

wheel, 27

St. Jaker, 441
-Stages of Life, 425

"

strong

man," 123, 124

Tortoiseshell, a hosier, 23
Touchet, Lord Audley, i19
Tour to Scarborough, 48 to 420
sn Wales, 406 to 418, 408 to

Stamford, 162

Mr., 148
Standbach, 122

Stanhope, 196
Stanwix, 280, 398, 403

415

Stapleford, 441.
Stitchford, 185, 190

Towton Field, 298, 299, 419
"Trip to Coatham," 442 to 446

35,

Stocking Makers, 7, 23, 32,
122, 127, 148, 290, 426

61,

Turner, William, 16
Twice Brewed, 280, 400, 401

Stocking,- ribbed, 290
Stockton, 308
Stokesley, 442
Stonie, 280, 395
~ frame, 7, 30, 65, 122
Storer, 148
Strutt, Jedediah, 290
Messrs., 191, 290
Stourbnldge Fair, 175
Stourport, 272
Swansea, 316
Swift, 44, 367

Twiss, Edward, 88
Jane, 87, 88

Swithland, 26, 102, 149, 159, 185,

Villiers, 237
Virgins' Inn, 113, 124
Virtues of Plum-pudding, 414 to 416

~

U

Verulam,

203

19,

Tamwoth,

TACAST ER,
Tarlton, 280
Taylor,

211,

231,

I

98,
232

237,

197,

23,

LLSWATER, 283, 398
pton, 100, 369

VTALENTINE, The, 439 to 442
V Vauxhall, 212, 213, 253

Sumner, William, 78Sutton, 55, 375, 395, 442
Sutton .Coldfield, 178,
242, 243, 375, 395

Mary, 88

25

41925

?0.

211

WAAITS, 144, 376
Wakefield, 442

Waldegrave, Countess, 196
Wales, Remarks on, 406 to 418
Walford, 183
Wall, 198
Walls End, 283, 399

iex.
Irn

464

Wigan, 280
Wilks, 445
Willersley Castle, 291
Willis, Councillor, 256

Walker, the engraver, 337, 34T
Walsall, 128, 133
Walton, 401, 402
Wailwick Chesters, 280,400
Warburton, 391, 395

Wilmot, Lady and Mrs., 369
Wilson, 409

Ward, Anne, 16
End Hall, 79, 252, 447
,,

~

Warden, Sarah, 79
Warren, 159

Warrington, 219, 280, 289, 395
Warwick, 188, 200
Washwood Heath, 241

Waste, Joan, 374
Watch Cross, 402
Wat Tyler, 226

Watling Street, 198
Watt, James, 220, 309, 347
Webb, 138, 139, 154, 331
Wedgwood, Josiah, 219, 220, 347
Wednesbury, 241
Wellington, 262, 409

" Welsh Mountaineer," 8o
Welshpool, 204, 205, 206
Wesley,

Rev. C.,

121

Wharton, Mr., 443 to 445
~

443
403

Mrs. Margaret,

Wheelwright, Rev. M.,
Whip-making, 74
White, B., 1971 337

Thomas, 369

Windermere, 283, 398
Windsor, 237, 238
W irksworth, 121
Withering, Dr., 196, 212, 220, 243,
285 to 289, 336, 347
Withall Heath, 188, 194
Wolsey, Cardinal, 293
Wolsley Bridge, 280, 284
Wolverhampton, 209, 262, 48

Church, 47

Woolcomber, 7, 15, 20, 122
Woollaston, 159
Woolley, Miss, 145
Worcester, 8, 128, 166, 189, 201,
209, 308

Wordesley, 32
Worstock, 212
Wrekin, 262, 409
Wright, 183, 290
Wymeswold, 51
to 445 Wyre, 226
\Vyrley, 175, 184, 226

439 442

to
~ Thomas,.
Whitehead, 245
~ Nathaniel, 179
Whitewell, 298, 419

YARDLEY,

Whitworth, 95

ZEREMBERG,
z

190

York, 298, 419, 445

THE

END.

41

Frederick Wayne and Co., Publishers.

FLORENCE MIARRYAT' S POPULAR

NOVELS.

TWO SHILLING VOLUMES.
In large fcap., picture boards, or bound in cloth, 2s, 6d.
PETRONEL.
VERONIQUE.
ORD AND MASTER.
PREY 0F. THE GODS.
THE GIRLS OF PEVERSHAM.
HER

LOVE'S CONFLICT.
"A novel of considerable merit. Miss Marryat paints the snc essive emotional
phases through which her chief characters pass with subtlety and force."-Saturday Review.

WVOM.AIN AGAINST WAN
"The title is sufficiently expressive to promise the reader an exciting story.
The story is exceedingly amusing."-Merning Pest.
GERALD ESTCOUR.T.
"The style of 'Gerald Esteourt' is lively and vigorous, and some of its scenes
are depicted with vivid energy. The novel is also characterized by the rare and
excellence, unity of design. It is an original and successful

great Pest.
Meroring

production."-

TOO GOOD FOX HIM7.
'Too Good for Him' has an excellent and interesting plot, the good and bad
ileroines are natural, and the writing is throughout lively and piquant."-pectator.

NELLY nROOXE.
"A deeply interesting story. The characters are distinct, and the style is some.
times even powerfully original."-MeIrningPest.

THREE SHILLING VOLUME.
Or bound in cloth, 3s. 6d.
FOR E1VER AND EVER.
"Miss Mtarry at has made a long step in advance sine her last production.
11cr characters are well rendered, full of life and action, and her style is spirited.
is a feverishly exciting story, and no one will lay it down unfinished."

It

ABthenxum.

Loandoan: Bedford Street, Covent Gard
ei.

Frederkk

Warne

&

to., Publ lir:.

14wti0n for _V7xrnj.

%.ix

ab*

In crown 8vo, price 5S. each, cloth gilt, with Original IllustratioLs.

VIVIA: A MODERN STORY.
Author of

By FLEYRENGE-WILFORD.

Nigel Bartram's Ideal."

Avery graceful, gentle, and pleasant story, by FlorenceWilford;whose

firstwork,' Nigol
Bartram's ideal,' extorted applause from the most cynical critics."-ManchesterCourier.
4"

CLARE SAVILE; OR, SIXTY YEARS AGO.
By JULIA LUARD. Author of "The Childhood of Royal Children."
"Here we have an interesting story, abounding in well-written narrative and good
111us.rations."-Standard.

LADY

e TALE

BETTY:

OF THE TIME- OF GEORGII.

By CHRISTABEL COLERIDGE.
it would not be easy to find a better, nor a better-told tale, than Lady Betty."
The Times.

THE KNIGHT'S RANSOM.
By L. VALENTINE.
"It is an excellent tale, in plan, in execution, and in purpose; and we are glad
welcome its appearance."-The Times.

to

ONE YEAR; OR, THE THREE HOMES.
By F. M. P.
"-The story is graceful and pleasant, ends happily, arid the reader likes Ursula well.
enough to be glad of it."-Atheneum.

MAY AND UIER FRIENDS.
By E. M. B.

ON

THE EDGE OF THE STORM.

By the Author of "Mademoiselle Moni" and " Sydonie's Dowry."
" It is well and picturesquely written, contains some appsropriate illustrations, and
present to anybody that has reached the novel.
makes an exceedingly welcome asnd

reading

proper

-age."--Te

legraph.

____________

SWEET

COUNSEL.

By SARAH TYTLER.

NIGEL BARTRAM'S
By FLORENCE WILFORD.

IDEAL.

Author of " Vivia."

B4dford Street, 'Covent Gardenz.

Frederick Warne & Co., Publishers.
WARNE'S 3s. 6d. SERIES OF GIFT-BOOKS.
In small crown 8vo, cloth extra; or, with gilt edges, 45.

SAY AND SEAL. - By the Authors of "The Wide, Wide

World," "The Golden Ladder," &c.
.ELLEN MONTGOMERY'S BOOK-SHELF.

,QUEECHY. By the Author of "The Wide, Wide World"
GOLDENT LADDER,
MELBOURNE HOUSE.
THE OLD HELMET.
By MISS WETHERELL

WALKS FROM EDEN.

THE HOUSE OF ISRAEL.
NETTIE't MISSION. By ALICE GRAY.
By the Author of
THE THREE LITTLE SPADES.
"The Golden Ladder."
THI9 STAR OUT OF JACOB.
Tale of the Revolution.
DERRY.
DAISY. A Sequel to " Melbourne House."
DAISY IN THE FIELD.
STEPPING HEAVENWARD. By E. PRENTISS.
GLEN LUNA; or, Dollars and Cents.
WHAT SHE COULD.

'A

Also, unif'orm M, size, style, and pirice, with OriginalZllustration,
in the best style of Colour-Printing.

THE BOYS OF HOLY WRIT, AND BIBLE NARRATIVES.
THE FEMALE CHARACTERS OF HOLY WRIT.
TALES AND STORIES. By Miss MITFORD.
BUNYAN'S PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

Complete Edition._

BUNYAN'S HOLY WAR. Complete Edition.
ROBINSON CRUSOE. By DANIEL DEFOE.
With
Coloured
THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON.
JIllustrations.
WILLIS THE PILOT.

Bedford Street, C'ovenzt Garden.

Frederick Warnie

& Co., Ptblishers.

A Series of Standard Works in All Classes of Literature.
In Crown 8vo, price 3S. 6d. each, cloth gilt.

By

THE PERCY ANECDOTES..

REUBEN and

PERCY. Verbatim Reprint of Original Edition. Introductidn by JosN TiMBS. Original Steel Portraits, and Index. 2 vols.
SHOLTO

ROOK OF THE CHURCH
LL.D.

By ROBERT SOUTHEY,

With Motes from the "Vindicim

Ecclesia Anglicana."

PEPYS' DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE. With
Seven Steel' Portraits arranged as a Frontispiece, Memoir, Introductory Preface, and Full Index.

ABBEYS, CASTLES, AND ANCIENT HALLS OF
ENGLAND *AND WALES.: Their Legendary Lore and
-Popular History. North, South, and Midland. By JOHN Tsasn,
Author of "Cuyiosities of London," and ALEXANDER GUNN.
Steel Frontispiece. Three vols.

7OHNSON'S LIVES OF THE POETS: with Critical
Observations on their Works, and a Sketch of the Author's Life,
by SIR WALTER SCOTT. Steel Frontispiece.

BOO41i OF A UTHORS: A Collection of Criticisms, Ana,
Mots, Personal Descriptions, &c.

.E

By W. CLARK RUSSELL.

VEL YN'S DIARY AND CORRESPONDENCE.
Edited by BRAY.

784

GIBBON.- THE

pp.

LIFE AND CORRESPON1-DECE
OF ED WARD GIBBON, with his, History of the Crusades.
Verbatim Reprint, and Copious Index. Steel Portrait.

A CTORS:

A Collection of
TIVE
REPRESENTA
Criticisms' Anecdotes, Person~ Descriptions, &c. &c., referring to
many celebrated British Actors, from the Sixteenth to the present
Century. With Notes, Memoirs, and a Short Account of English
Acting. By W. CLARK RUSSELL,

A .CENTURY OF ANECDOTE. Compiled and Edited
by JOHN

Timms.

With Frontispiece.

,LIFE OF WILLIAM
the Hutton Family.

JEWITT.

-With

HUTTON, of Birmingham, -and

Compiled and Edited by LLEWvELLYNN

Steel Portrait.

THE ROMANCE OF LONDON.
With Frontispiece.

Two vols.

By JOHN TIMBS.

Bedford Street, Covent. Garden.

This book is a preservation facsimile produced for
the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
It is made in compliance with copyright law
and produced on acid-free archival
60# book weight paper
which meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper).
Preservation facsimile printing and binding
by
Northern Micrographics
Brookhaven Bindery
La Crosse, Wisconsin
2010