THE CHRONICLES OF WALTHAM.

LAST week, the Reverend JOSHUA KING gave us, in a Conserva- tive speech, a specimen of the results which the " learned leisure"- Passing from the author, let us to the work ; which in style and general character closely resembles the Country Curate. There is the same air of verisimilitude in the persons and scenes,. together with that skilful selection of minute details, which gave such an appearance of perfect truth to those admirable pictures of rural life. On the other hand, the Chronicles of Waltham pos- sess all their faults. Probability is often sacrificed to effect in the connexion of the incidents; the likelihoods of life give place to the convenience of the author—especially for a claptrap catas- trophe; and Mr. GLEIG is still too fond of exhibiting the coarser features of crime, and drawing his inspiration from the Newgate Calendar and the Police Reports. Whilst he deals with parts, he is the COBBETT of fiction; but it frequently appears as if he wanted comprehension or experience to present a whole : the former are evidently drawn from life, the latter seems copied from books.

The scheme of the present work, however, is of a much higher nature than the Country Curate; and although the idea is imperfectly developed, it is yet of a bold and striking kind. The Chronicles of Waltham is an endeavour to make the public affairs of the present day the basis of a series of little novels,. which should serve to embody the manners and opinions of cer- tain classes of society, and exhibit by a succession of tales (pre- senting individuals of those classes in action), their feelings and modes of daily life, whilst the whole derived an historical interest from being connected with all but contemporary events. The design has not equalled the execution, partly because the author perhaps imperfectly perceived his own conception,. partly from that defect in his mind already intimated, and partly from a poli- tical fanaticism which rendered him incapable of seeing the whole truth, and prevented him from comprehending the full capabilities of his subject. We are not going to enter into the details of the half-dozen tales which form the Chronicles of Waltham — an agricultural parish in Kent, upon the verge of the sea-shore. They commence with the high and palmy state of the agriculturists, and close at the present day. The first tale, " The Farm of Forty Acres," is intended to illustrate the evil effects of breaking-up small. hold- ings : but as all the incidents grow out of a rustic seduction and murder, (the murderer. by the by, after a number of enormities, joining the Cato Street gang,) the distresses of the parties must have been as bad or worse bad the tenants of Crackstakes never been dispossessed. "The Village Oracle" introduces the grand villain of the Chronicles, and exhibits the Tory Churchman's reading of the instruments which have brought us to our present condition. " Tho Overseer" displays—and not badly, though reminding us of Miss MAItTINEAU—the working of the old Poor- laws ; and connected with both these stories are the agrarian in- surrection, the incendiary fires, and a system of smuggling upon a very extensive scale. "The Overseer's Daughter," and "The Man of Many Names," although relating to former events occur- ring in the tales, can scarcely, except in the close of the latter, • " be regarded as a vehicle by which the writer has judged it ex- pedient to describe partly scenes that to a certain extent have passed under his own observation, partly his own opinions with reference to points on which all men will and do form judgments for them,elves." "The Rival Systems" still more closely reminds us of Miss 'Rif ....ARTINEA1J, but without her skill. Its object is to display the superiority of small allotments over parish manufac- tories,—a matter which no one save Mr. GLEIG and the practical

• men ever doubted : the merest tyro in that political economy he so devoutly hates, could have told him, that artificially to force manufacturing labour, is at best merely to displace a workman in some other direction.

The majority of the tales are introduced and accompanied by disquisitions touching the circumstances which paved the way for Radicalism amongst the rustics, and descriptions of the character of the rural population at different epochs. To us, these are about the most entertaining parts of the book ; for the disqui- sitions are clear and clever, the descriptions graphic and almost picturesque. Moreover, they are better suited for quotation than scenes whose interest depends upon a perfect acquaintance with the context : our extracts, therefore, shall chiefly be taken from these parts.

TORY MILLENNIUM—WALTHAM, 1798.

Landlord and tenant pulled entirely together. Rents, though said to be high, (when were they ever said to be the reverse ?) could not be intinoilerately so, for they were paid cheerfully, and with the most commendable regularity. In like manner, the tithe, though collected in kind, (a practice almost universal when it happens to be in the hands of laymen,) called forth no murmurs. The labourers, constantly engaged and adequately remunerated, were industrious, temperate, and respectful ; and the parish-church could with difficulty contain the crowds that frequented it on Sunday. I heard, indeed, that a shoemaker had a short time previously ventured to declare himself a dissiple of Tom Paine and an advocate for the " Rights of Man," till the village became so hot for him that he was glad to abandon it, after all his customers had abandoned him ; but except in this solitary instance, a disaffected person was not known to have broached his opinions in the place, nor could any sect of Dissenters succeed in establishing a meeting-house within a mile of it. In a word, the inhabitants of Waltham might be rude, for the village could not yet boast of any other place of daily instruction for the piling people than three or four dames-schools; they might be ignorant, for newspapers were unknown in their tap-rooms ; they might be bigoted, for they would not listen to any other religious doctrine than that which the curate inculcated from the pulpit; and they might be slavish, for Church and King was their rallying-cry : but a happier, because a more contented, and I may venture to add, a more innocent population, was not to be found in any village of the same size within the compass of the four seas.

TORY FARMERS OF THE HIGH-PRICE DAYS.

Then might be seen a very different class of tenants,—spruce, neat, well- dressed, dandy gentlemen, with yellow-top boots, made by the Hoby of the day, and blue coats with bright metal buttons, dashing to market on their bits of blood, or driving their ladies in green gigs picked out with orange. Who so gay, who so blithe as they ? They were England's boast, the very pith and sinews of society ; who, selling their corn at five and six pounds a quarter, did not value any mean a straw, because they were just as independent as the squire himself. Their fathers, to be sure, had boarded their labourers ; their fathers rose early, held the plough, returned at twelve o'clock to their boiled pork and greens and home-brewed beer, went forth again till the evening, and slept soundly all night after a substantial supper and a tumbler of warm punch. But the new generation—they would have contemplated such a style of living with horror. They drank their port and. sherry at home; at the ordinary, or at all events on special occasions, they would join their particular friends in chain- reign. In the hunting-field, moreover, they bore off the bell for the excellence of their horses and their own fearless riding ; and as to business, they devolved that upon their bailiffs and head men. They would have as soon thought of grasping a piece of red-hot iron as of handling the stilts of a plough. And when you looked further, you saw them free of speech, free of action, loose and immoral in their lives, loud jesters, cock-fighters, fond of their lubber, jovial -companions, sometimes great men for the ladies—every thing, in short, the re- verse of what their predecessors had been, except in their loyalty. For I believe that, when prices were high, no class of men could be more devoted to the monarchical principle than the tenantry of England in general, as was evinced by the promptitude with which 1114 took up arms in corps either of volunteer infantry or of yeomanry cavalry. In every other respect, however, they were changed, certainly not for the better. They came to church, no doubt, but it was to see and to be seen. The parson they held in small estimation, and his discourses in still smaller ; and though they paid their compositions freely, it was because money was no object to them, and they knew quite well that they Lad an excellent bargain of their tithes.

A CHANGE. THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.

The process was this. The liberal tenants of the liberal landlord were ex- ceedingly glad to see the people take an interest in national affairs, and gave every countenance to the formation of societies in which all manner of topics might be discussed. Thus encouraged, the people were not slow in acquiring a taste for political speculation. The Black Dog took in, for the benefit of its customers, not only a provincial but a London newspaper of the most approved kind. These were read aloud by certain individuals for the benefit of the com- pany which frequented the tap-room ; and the reader was remunerated, at the close of his exercise, by having the ex pease of his potations included in the common bill. Of course the prints thus eagerly devoured held up to unmitigated abhorrence all established usages and all men in office. Oue tone, indeed, pervaded them from beginning to end ; of which it would be to speak too mildly, if I were to say that it was treasonous in the extreme—for it was worse than this. The poor were seditiously instructed to believe that the rich had with them no sym- pathy; kings, nobles, legislators, magistrates, gentlemen, and, more than all, the clergy, were represented as vultures that preyed upon the people's vitals and a thousand tales, fabricated for the purpose, were told in corroboration of She statements. And to their shame be it spoken, there were those even among the yeomen who, perceiving that no direct charge was brought against their own class, encouraged for party purposes the deluded poor tostudy such lessons, because they hoped to wring that diminution of rent from their landlords' fears which they had failed to obtain from their compassion. I need not add,' that under the working of such a system the moral and religious feelings of Waltham rapidly declined.

A SLAP AT AN OLD FOE. WITH A NEW FACE.

For a while the farmer flattered himself that all this would answer his pur- pose. Ile was happy in the belief that be was himself represented as one of the sufferers from the cruelty of those above him ; and that he and his allies of the press would succeed in convincing the pauper that with him neither landlord nor parson had any community of feeling. But this could not last for ever. The labourers felt the load which immediately bore upon them, while they were only told of those still more heavy loads which caused the pressure; and the miscreants who had hitherto directed their fury against the higher classes exclusively, soon perceived how the land lay, and took advantage of it. For men who write for the passions, not for the reason and moral sense of the poor, care not who may be the victims, so that they succeed in stirring up strife. It was no longer on the squire or the parson only that abuse was heaped ; the cruelties perpetrated at vestries, the injustice of denying relief to an applicant, no matter how undeserving, the barbarity and inhumanity of reducing the industrious classes to a universal pauperism—these were now the favourite topics on which to declaim, till minds already exasperated by real or imaginary wrongs lost their Lela ice entirely.

C'II A RACTERISTICs OF A N OPERATIVE.

The reverse of this in almost every particular is your operative weaver or ar- tisan. Breathing continually the fietid atmosphere of a workshop, and spending all the hours of his waking existence in society, the operative ho=es in some sort all consciousness of idiosyncracy in the feeling that be is but a portion of a mighty mass. To a frame often feeble, and almost always unhealthy, he adds a mind restless and active, which, like the wheels in his own machinery, is con- tinually driving at some end, and a degree of intelligence far inure available than that of which many that move in a more refined circle can boast. Yet the operative would be as much at a hiss how to get through the day were he Con- demned to spend it alone in the open air, as the agriculturist is to understand how it may be possible to endure an imprisonment of twelve hours' continuance

in one of the mills at Manchester or Glasgow. The operative is a reflecting animal : show him that change implies improvement, and he will fall in with it cheerfully and at once ; because his understanding on points relating to his own business—and it is of that alone I now speak—is almost always exceilent. Moreover, the operative is an ambitious animal. His education, whether neg-

lected in early youth, or the reverse, is constantly going on. lie is always learning something front those with whom, during the hours both of work and of play, he is associated ; and in no species of lore is he more carefuliy instructed than in that which he is pleased to designate as political economy. The operative is the vainest of living men : he has learned to repeat by rote the adage " knowledge is power," and repeats it till it ceases to convey to his mind any definite idea; unless, indeed, the firm persuasion that, being already possessed of a cez tam degree of knowledge, lie himself ought to possess a certain degree of power also. As a member of the commonwealth, the operative is always really to cabal ; and his cabals become the more formidable by reason of his habitual subjection to social control. As a man, the operative is vicious, immoral, irreligious, selfish. From the increase of his earnings, be these what they may, his family derives no advantage. He never visits home except to swallow in all possible haste an ill-dressed morsel ; and then, flying from the den of wretchedness to which his wife and children are condemned, lie takes shelter in the public-house where the club of which he is a member is accus- tomed to assemble. Of the habits of the operative in his old age it is not easy to speak, for he very seldom attains to old age: but those of youth and nun- hood are in his case too often such as compel the philanthropist to doubt whe- ther mankind have gained or lost in point of happiness by the improvements of which he hears so much.

If these sketches be drawn with any regard to verisimilitude, it will appear that the operative and the agriculturist are as much opposed in every quality that contributes to produce human character as it is possible to conceive. The one is a creature composed entirely of mind—of a vicious and depraved order, perhaps. but still of mind ; the other, an animal possessing little more than body. For even in reference to courage, I believe that the operative has the ad. vantage, though the inefficiency of his physical powers may often render it useless.

Let us pass from the parson's philosophy of affairs, to the au- thor's description of things and events. Here is the outbreak of incendiarism. In the tale, the incident is an important one in producing the catastrophe. It should be observed that Mr. Amos, the Overseer, had succeeded in the morning in cutting down the paupers' pay.

This was market-day in the neighbouring town ; and neither in the corn-ex- change, nor at the ordinary which followed, were there any agriculturists more cheerful than those that came from Waltham. Amos was somewhat too harsh, certainly ; yet he had done the thing well. The people were completely humbled ; and therefore they might afford to treat them a little better by and by, in the confident assurance that no undue advantage would be taken of it.

It was dark when Mr. Amos mounted his horse—for on market-days lie still wore a blue coat, one of the last of a stock laid in five years before, and he still rode, though not the sort of animal which five years before he bad been accus- tomed to ride. He had been tempted to commit an excess that day, and WAS consequently in high spirits ; when he, Mr. Rigden, Mr. Sankey, and another, set out at a brisk trot from the inn-yard. The church-bell tolled eight as they cleared the town, and there were yet seven miles before them ; so they pushed on, chatting and laughing at the issue of what they were pleased to term the rebellion of the men, which furnished food both for mirth and conversation. They bad compassed between four and five miles of their way, when, on ascending an eminence, they beheld the horizon in their front splendidly illu- minated to a wide extent. From time to time, moreover, a volume of flame made its appearance above the hedge-rows that seemed to intervene, which flickered up for awhile, and then diminished, as fire is apt to do when newly kindled. As if actuated by a common influence, the party reined in their horses at once, and held their breaths in terrified suspense.

" Good God ! what is that?" exclaimed Mr. Sankey. " It is a fire somewhere," replied Amos, speaking low, and apparently with clenched teeth ; "but where, I cannot tell." " It is no use stopping here," interrupted Mr. Rigden ; "let us push on. It seems to me to be in our parish; and, Amos, by heavens I think it is near your premises Instantly the spurs were struck into the horses' flanks, and the horses them- selves bounded forward. Now the riders being in the bottom of the valley, could perceive only the dark red lights that streamed for a while through hea-

ven; now they began again to mount a height, and the flame and the smokebecame visible. They passed a hamlet, every cottage in which hail its two: open; bat not a man, woman, or child, seemed to be about the place. • • They did ride, fur Mr. Amos's farm lay a full mile from the street. As they traversed the lane, the brilliancy of the scene became more striking every

instant. Now the outlines of the leafless trees that inlet vened between them Bud the premises were distinctly visible; now the dwelling-house, which lay on the near side of the stack-yard, stood forth as at 'mid-day ; now, behind it, lumps of dark matter, from the sides and fares of which volumes of flame were basting out, showed themselves in horrid relief against the dark outline of the horizon ; and, last of all, crowds of people were seen moving hither and thither amid the masses, like savages dancing round the fires amid which they sacrifice their human victims. All these sights, with the roar of the ascending names, rendered terribly audible in the stillness of a calm night, stirred up in the bosoms of those who approached the scene feelings that might not easily be described.

44 You were right, gentlemen," said Amos, in the tone of one who is thc- roughly subdued ; " the odds against me were fearful, and 1 ant beaten."

MILITARY ARRAY OF TI!,: RIOTERS.

AS yet, itUICCd, they had not committed any act of outrage on property, for their sole object seemed to be to enlarge their numbers us much as possible ; but their progress was sufficiently marked by the species of tyranny which they exercised over the men in their own station wherever they ascertained that they were at work. Like a wave of the sea, which gather s volume as it rolls towards the shore, the crowd passed from farm to farm, increasing as it went. As soon as the rioters reached a collection of out-buildings, they halted; then three or four, carrying heavy bludgeons. went forward, and every man and boy whom they found in the stables, in the barn, or about the yard, they compelled to abandon their occupations and fall in with the column. This ex- ploit drew forth repeated cheers • which, in not a few instances, alarmed the families of the tenantry so much, that beer was handed out, with other refresh- ments, of which the insurgents freely partook ; and then, forming their ranks with great care, throwing out an advanced guard, and leaving a covering-party to bring up the rear, they marched on, till their numbers, which at the outset scarcely came up to eighteen, had swelled to little short of a hundred and fifty.

They had by this time gained the bottom of the lane, just where it struck off in two branches to the right and left, when, looking down the latter, they beheld, about a couple of hundred yards off, the formidable array of insurgents advnncing towards them. For the movement of a purely irregular crowd, nothing could be more imposing. First came two men, each armed with a huge bludgeon. About twenty paces in rear of these, were eight more, carrying pick-axes and sledge-hammers. Another interval of twenty or thirty yards in- tervened, which was closed up by the main body, amounting in all to some- where about a hundred ; very many of whom, however, carried no weapons, while the remainder brandished hop-poles, with here and there a bill-book and a hammer. Last of all, came a rear guard of six or eight men, at the same distance front the main body as that by which it was separated from the ad- vanced guard : all of these bore spades or axes, with a couple of pruning- kuives, of which the appearance was exceedingly formidable.