Chapter XIII (2)

It is now ascertained by Captain Larcom’s report, that the wheat grown in Ireland is less by 1,500,000 quarters than it was five years ago; and by the reports of the English markets for home grain, that a shortcoming to a similar amount has taken place in the home supplies of grain for the county markets. 3,000,000 quarters less of wheat is raised in England and Ireland than was done before Free Trade began. Supposing that an equal amount of other kinds of grain has gone out of cultivation, which is a most moderate supposition, seeing that 10,000,000 quarters of foreign grain are now annually imported, when there were not 2,000,000 before, we have 6,000,000 less quarters of grain annually raised in Great Britain than was done before Free Trade was introduced! The defalcation has been nearly as great in the supplies of cattle, sheep, and other animals brought to the English market. Beyond all doubt the value of the produce that is raised has sunk a fourth. The total agricultural produce of the two islands has been estimated, before Free Trade began, at £250,000,000. At this rate, the loss the cultivators have experienced from this source alone is above £60,000,000 a-year. The Free-Traders boast that it is £90,000,000; and considering the diminution in the supplies of grain and cattle raised at home, the estimate is not much overcharged. At all events, it is probably £75,000,000. This is the real cause of the prodigious emigration which is going on from every part of the country; and as this cause is permanent and ceaseless in its operation, the decline of our population may be expected to be as continuous and progressive.

This subject has been so well handled by Sir F. Kelly in his late admirable speech at Harwich, that we cannot resist the temptation of giving it publicity in a more durable form than a daily journal.

“Now let us see what is the quantity of wheat which is produced and
sold in this country. In 1844, it was 5,456,307 quarters; in 1845,
6,666,240 quarters; and in 1846, 5,958,962 quarters. You will
therefore see that the fair average of that production, taking the
three years, was about 6,000,000 quarters of wheat produced by the
farmers and cultivators of the soil in England. Now, let us see the
years that succeeded 1849, for the returns pass over the intermediate
years, before the repeal of the corn laws had a fair trial, during
which there was only a gradual reduction of duty. In 1849 the Act of
Parliament had complete effect. The production of wheat in 1849 was
4,453,983 quarters; in 1850, 4,688,274 quarters; and in 1851,
4,487,041 quarters. Now, taking the fair average, and speaking in
round numbers, that would be a production in England of about
4,500,000 quarters of wheat per annum since the repeal of the corn
laws. Then what is the difference?—that in the three years before the
repeal of the corn laws the British farmers and cultivators of the
soil produced and made a profit on 6,000,000 quarters of wheat, while
in the three years succeeding, that important class of the people had
fallen off in their production to 4,500,000 quarters. Here was a
diminution of wheat in the country of 1,500,000 qrs. per annum. I
shall not weary you by going into details figure by figure as to the
diminution which has taken place in Scotland and Ireland, but I pledge
myself that on these returns it will be found that the diminution is
still greater in Ireland, though in Scotland it is somewhat less in
proportion. The result of the whole is, that 4,500,000 quarters of
wheat less was produced in England, Scotland, and Ireland during the
three years after Free Trade had a fair trial, than in the three years
before the passing of the act. I do not wish to trouble you further
with these very painful details, but I will detain you a single moment
while I refer to a return with regard to oats. In the years 1845 and
1846, there were about 2,000,000 quarters of oats produced in each
year in this country. In the years 1850 and 1851, the production of
oats in the country was under 1,000,000 quarters; so that while you
find the falling off in the production of wheat in the country amounts
to a quarter of the whole quantity, the production of oats is reduced
from 2,000,000 to less than 1,000,000 quarters; and this, gentlemen,
is the system of Free Trade which some of my friends among the
electors say has been so highly beneficial to the people of this
country.

And in answer to the common argument that, despite this rapid decline of agricultural production, the general well-being of the people has increased, Sir Fitzroy observes—

“Now, it has been asserted that the amount of poor-rates levied in the
kingdom has been less in the three years since the repeal of the corn
laws than in the three years before 1846. But let us look at the
amount necessarily levied for the poor in England and Wales during the
three years ending 1846, and the three years beginning in 1848 and
ending in 1850. In 1845, there was raised for the relief of the poor
£6,791,006. (“How much did the poor get out of that?”) I hope the
whole of it. This I know, that we paid it all. In 1846, the amount
raised was £6,800,623; in 1847, £6,964,825; in 1848, £7,817,430; in
1849,£7,674,146; in 1850, £7,270,493; and in 1851, £6,778,914; making,
therefore, in round numbers, a million sterling more than was levied
for the relief of the poor before the repeal of the corn laws. Now, it
is easy for manufacturers, for those well-paid labourers who have not
yet felt the dire and terrible effects of this fatal measure of
legislation, to point to themselves, and to laud and rejoice at the
increased prosperity of the country. I am not taking Manchester,
Liverpool, and Stockport, any more than I do the counties of Suffolk
or Essex, but I am taking the entire kingdom; and so far from the
system of Free Trade having increased the general prosperity of the
country, we find that £1,000,000 a-year more has been required for the
support of the poor since than before the repeal of the corn laws, and
before the entire system of Free Trade had arrived at its completion.
But there is one more criterion by which to judge of the effects of
Free Trade. No one will deny that the general prosperity of the
country, and the amount of deposits in the savings banks, always
proportionately increase. It is always important to see, whether what
are called the lower, but I would rather say the labouring classes—a
most important class, for on their labours depends not merely the
well-being but the very existence of the rest of the community—it is
always important to see whether, after any great legislative changes,
they are really so far benefited as to be able to confer that great
advantage on their families of increasing their deposits in the
savings banks. Now, in 1844, the amount of deposits was £29,504,861;
in 1845, £30,748,868; and in 1846, £31,743,250. Here we arrive at the
dividing line, for in 1846 was passed the measure to which I am now
beseeching your cool and calm attention. In the same year it began to
operate on that numerous class who contribute deposits to the savings
banks, and let us see what was the result. In 1847, the amount fell
from £31,743,250 to £30,207,180; in the next year it was £28,114,136;
in 1849, it was £28,537,010; and in 1850, £27,198,563. This is the last
year to which the returns have been corrected.”

We have not observed any answer attempted by the Liberal papers to these convincing facts; they content themselves with abusing the able gentleman who brought them forward.

These considerations reveal the real causes both of the great exports and imports of last year, and the vast losses with which both were accompanied, and the decline in the main articles of our exports which is now going on. It was the failure of the home market, owing to Free Trade, which did the whole. Finding the customary channels of home consumption falling off, our merchants were constrained, at all hazards, to send their goods abroad, and thence the great exportation, amounting in all to £73,000,000 of goods, accompanied by no profit, but by a loss of £19,000,000, as we showed in a former article on the subject, to the exporters.[8] Finding credit easy, and money easily got from the influence of California, they engaged largely in importations, and swelled our total imports, as Mr Newdegate has proved, to £112,000,000. But the result soon showed them that it is impossible to import profitably into an impoverished country; and as most of these imports were sold at from 15 to 20 per cent below prime cost, implying a loss of not less than £20,000,000 to the importers on our imports, it is easy to say what species of a commerce Free Trade has brought upon the country. It is not surprising in these circumstances that there should now be a great decline in the last quarter, in the exports of our cotton goods, of nearly £500,000, and that the revenue for the year ending July 5, 1852, was above half a million less than in the preceding year.

One thing is very remarkable with reference to this prodigious stream of emigration, that it is all _from the land of Free Trade to the land of Protection_. We are told that Free Trade is the best, and Protection the worst possible thing for the working-classes; and yet above 300,000 of these very working-classes annually leave the realm where that charming thing Free Trade is in full activity, and 500,000 persons from all Europe, of whom 250,000 are from the British isles, annually land in the United States, _where the most stringent system of Protection is established_! Men do not sell off their whole effects, pack up their little all, and cross the Atlantic, to render their condition worse. And has the 30 per cent levied by the Americans upon all foreign imports, without exception, no hand in inducing and rendering perpetual this immense stream from the British islands to the Transatlantic realms? If the iron-works of America were exposed to the free competition of the iron-masters of South Wales and Lanarkshire, would our iron-moulders and miners go in crowds, as they are now doing, across the Atlantic? If the cotton factories of America were exposed to the competition of those of Great Britain, would our cotton-spinners and weavers be straining, as they now are, every nerve to reach the land of Protection? Nay, if the cultivators of America were not protected by the enormous import duty on wheat and oats, of which the Canadian farmers so bitterly complain, would not discouragement reach even the agriculturists of that great and growing republic? England, which is governed by shopkeepers, may adopt in her commercial policy the maxim that to buy cheap and sell dear comprises the whole of political wisdom: but America, which is governed by the working-classes, has discovered that _high wages and good prices_ are a much better thing; and it is the practical application of this maxim which is the magnet that is attracting in such multitudes the working-classes from Europe—and, above all, from free-trading England and Ireland—to the protected Transatlantic shores.

It is no wonder that the working-classes, whether in agriculture or manufactures, are hiving off in such multitudes from the land of Free Trade, and settling in that of Protection, for the disasters which have overtaken industry under the action of Free Trade, in those quarters where it has first been fully felt, have been absolutely appalling. Look at the West Indies. Lord Derby has told us in the House of Peers—and every post from those once flourishing and now ruined realms bears witness to the fact—that not only are the estates in Jamaica nearly all going out of cultivation, but the inhabitants themselves, ruined by Free Trade, are either leaving the island in quest of employment, or relapsing into barbarism. It is not surprising that this terrible effect is taking place, for a Parliamentary paper lately published gives us the following astounding return of the refined sugar imported into Great Britain and Ireland in the year 1851:—

Cwt.
British Colonies, 31,490
Foreign States, 417,051
———————
448,541

Here is a result worked by Free Trade, in less than four years after its introduction into the colonies, sufficient to make us hold our breath, and far exceeding what the most gloomy Protectionist ever predicted as the result of Free Trade policy upon the best interests of productive industry in the empire. And the Free-Traders think that they will be vindicated in the eyes of God and man for their frightful devastation, by the reflection that, _while it is going on_, sugar has fallen to 5d. a pound. We say advisedly, “while it is going on;” for can there be a doubt that, when the work of destruction has been completed, and, by having ruined our own colonies, we are left entirely in the hands of the foreign growers, prices will rise again, not merely to their former, but even a far higher level?

Turn again to Ireland. We shall say nothing of its 2,000,000 labourers who have disappeared from the land in the last five years, or its 1,500,000 quarters of wheat, being half the amount of that cereal it produced, which has gone out of cultivation during the same time. We refer to the report of a Parliamentary commission, a favourite measure of Sir R. Peel’s and the Free Trade party, which demonstrates in the most decisive manner the almost incredible amount of devastation which Free Trade has worked in a few years in the Emerald Isle. It appears from the Report of the Encumbered Estates Commissioners that estates have been sold by them charged with

Debts amounting to £28,000,000
The price received for the lands burdened is only 5,400,000
Of which has been paid to the creditors 3,400,000

The figures are given from memory, but they are in round numbers correct. Now we do say, that here is a decisive proof of a destruction of property which would be unexampled in history if the simultaneous ruin of the West Indies may not be considered as a parallel instance. Here is property, which must have been worth, when the debt was contracted, at least £30,000,000 (for £2,000,000 is a very small margin to leave for so huge a mass of debt) sold for less than £6,000,000, being A FIFTH PART OF ITS FORMER VALUE. The prices which the land fetched, the commissioners tell us, varied from _four to fourteen years’ purchase_, the average being ten years. We question if the history of the world prior to 1846 will afford a parallel instance of ruin of property by pacific legislative measures. It is in vain to ascribe this to the Irish famine: that was over six years ago. Equally vain is it to ascribe it to the savage and lawless character of the Irish peasantry. They were as lawless when creditors advanced £28,000,000 on these estates as they are now, and far more formidable, because not weakened by the loss of 2,000,000 of their numbers; and if changed at all, it should have been for the better, because they have, for the last twenty-two years, been under the government of the Liberals and Free-Traders, such decided friends in principle and practice to the interests of labour, and the welfare of the poor. The frightful decline in value can be ascribed to one cause, and only one—_Free Trade in grain_—which has laid waste the Emerald Isle as completely in many places as _Free Trade in sugar_ has devastated the West Indies.

One very curious result has flowed from the effects of Free Trade, in producing so prodigious a flood of emigration from our shores, and of food supplanting native industry to them, that it has in a great degree concealed the effect of the repeal of the Navigation Laws upon our shipping. Man and his food are, it is well known, with the exception of wood for his dwelling, the most bulky of all articles of commerce. It so happens, by a curious coincidence, that the three articles, wood, corn, and human beings, are precisely the ones which Free Trade has caused to cross the ocean in the greatest quantity. Our emigration has risen, as already shown, from an average of 90,000 souls to above 300,000. Above 2000 vessels are employed from Liverpool alone in this annual exodus. The importation of grain has quadrupled: it has risen from an average of 2,500,000 quarters to one of 10,000,000 quarters. The importation of foreign wood has advanced in nearly a similar proportion. Thus changes destructive to the nation’s industry have for the time given a great impetus to its shipping. What, then, must have been the ruinous effects of Free Trade in shipping on our maritime interests, when, despite this extraordinary and unforeseen circumstance, arising from the profit which great seaport towns sometimes derive in the first instance from the causes which are inducing national ruin, so great a decline in our commercial navy has ensued from Free Trade in shipping, that it was publicly stated on the hustings at Liverpool, by one of the greatest merchants in that city, without opposition, that, in five years more, at the present rate, _the foreign shipping employed in conducting its gigantic trade would be equal to the British_!

The great and rapid decline in the amount of grain raised in the British islands since Free Trade was introduced, is so serious a matter with reference to our national independence, that we gladly avail ourselves of the following statistics, drawn from authentic sources, driven by an able contemporary, on the subject:—

“Wheat sold in the market towns of England and Wales.

Before Free Trade. After Free Trade.

Qrs. Qrs.
1844 5,456,307 1849 4,453,983
1845 6,666,240 1850 4,688,274
1846 5,958,962 1851 4,487,041

“We have taken the three years immediately preceding the commercial
changes in 1846; because, up to that period, nothing had occurred to
induce our agriculturists to raise less wheat than formerly. On
comparing their results with those of the three last years, which were
years of complete Free Trade, we find a very striking difference. In
round numbers, it may be stated that the average difference between
the two periods amounts to no less than one million and a-half of
quarters. During the first period, in other words, there were sold
annually six millions of quarters, and during the last, four millions
and a-half.

“Let us next turn to Ireland, where the returns exhibit a much larger
proportionate decrease. We only possess authentic accounts from the
sister island for four years; but, owing to the great care and
diligence bestowed by the Government Commissioners upon the subject,
we believe they approach the truth as nearly as the nature of such
investigations will admit. The following are the quantities of wheat
estimated to have been produced in that country during the
under-stated years.

Qrs.

1847 2,926,733
1848 2,945,121
1849 2,167,743
1850 1,550,196

“It will be seen from these returns that the diminished production of
wheat in Ireland corresponds very nearly in amount with the falling
off exhibited by the returns of the corn-law inspectors in England.
The aggregate amount of decrease in the two countries is about three
million quarters.”—_Morning Post, June 24._

Thus it appears that the falling off in _wheat alone_, raised in England and Ireland in four years, has been, under the action of Free Trade, about 3,000,000 quarters. The average consumption of wheat in Great Britain, prior to the late changes, was estimated by our best authorities at 14,500,000 quarters, being a quarter a head on the people, excluding infants, and persons, especially in Scotland, who live on oatmeal or potatoes. Thus more than a FIFTH PART OF THE STAPLE FOOD OF OUR PEOPLE has, in four years of Free Trade, come to be furnished from foreign states. If the supplies of oats and Indian corn, which are immense, and amount, with wheat, to about 10,000,000 quarters annually, are taken into account, it may safely be concluded that _a fourth_ of the food of our people has come, in four short years, to be imported! Liverpool has told us that, in five years, half of this immense supply will be brought in in foreign bottoms! Truly we are advancing at railway speed to a state of entire dependence on foreign states for the most necessary supplies; and we shall soon realise in these realms the lamentation of the Roman annalist, that the people have come to depend for their food on the winds and the waves; or, in Claudian’s words—

“Semper inops
Ventique fidem poscebat et anni.”

Three-fourths of these immense supplies come from two countries only—Russia and America. Can we say that we are independent for a year together, when either of these powers, by simply closing their harbours, can reduce us to scarcity—the two together to famine prices? If a fourth of our subsistence is cut off by an ukase of the Autocrat of Russia, or a mandate of the imperial people in the United States, where will be the food of the British people? Both these powers were at war with us at the same time in 1811;—are their dispositions now so very friendly, and our interests and theirs so little at variance, that we can rely upon the like thing not occurring again? And if it does occur, could we hold out three months against a second _Non-Importation_ Act, passed in either country?

We are often told of the great reduction of taxation which has been effected—to the amount, it is said, of £12,000,000 sterling—since Free Trade was introduced; but this statement is grossly exaggerated. The following tables, taken from a late parliamentary paper, shows that the reduction of taxation under Protection has been nearly SEVEN TIMES GREATER than under Free Trade; for in the former period the reduction was £41,000,000, in the latter only £6,500,000:—

1816. Property Tax, £15,500,000.——War Malt, £2,100,000. ┌───────────┬───────────┬──────────┬───────────┬───────────┬──────────┐ │ Year. │ Revenue. │ Surplus. │Deficiency.│ Taxes │ Taxes │ │ │ │ │ │ repealed. │ imposed. │ ├───────────┼───────────┼──────────┼───────────┼───────────┼──────────┤ │Before 1822│ │ │ │£17,600,000│ │ │ 1822│£54,135,743│£4,744,518│ │ 2,139,101│ │ │ 1823│ 52,755,564│ 4,300,747│ │ 4,050,250│ £18,596│ │ 1824│ 54,416,230│ 3,888,172│ │ 1,704,724│ 49,605│ │ 1825│ 52,347,674│ 3,049,150│ │ 3,639,551│ 48,100│ │ 1826│ 50,241,408│ │ £645,920│ 1,973,812│ 188,725│ │ 1827│ 50,241,658│ │ 826,675│ 84,038│ 21,402│ │ 1828│ 52,104,643│ 3,246,994│ │ 51,998│ 1,966│ │ 1829│ 50,786,682│ 1,711,550│ │ 126,406│ │ │ 1830│ 50,056,615│ 2,913,672│ │ 4,093,955│ 696,004│ │ 1831│ 46,424,440│ │ 698,858│ 1,623,536│ 627,586│ │ 1832│ 46,988,755│ 614,759│ │ 747,264│ 44,526│ │ 1833│ 46,271,326│ 1,513,083│ │ 1,532,128│ │ │ 1834│ 46,509,856│ 1,608,155│ │ 2,066,116│ 199,594│ │ 1835│ 46,043,663│ 1,620,941│ │ 165,877│ 5,575│ │ 1836│ 48,702,654│ 2,130,092│ │ 1,021,786│ 3,991│ │ 1837│ 46,475,194│ │ 655,760│ 234│ 630│ │ 1838│ 47,333,460│ │ 345,227│ 289│ 8,423│ │ 1839│ 47,844,898│ │ 1,512,793│ 63,418│ │ │ 1840│ 47,567,565│ │ 1,593,971│ 1,258,959│ 2,274,240│ │ 1841│ 48,084,359│ │ 2,101,370│ 27,170│ │ │ 1842│ 46,965,630│ │ 3,979,539│ 1,596,366│ 5,629,989│ │ 1843│ 52,582,817│ 1,443,304│ │ 411,821│ │ │ 1844│ 54,003,753│ 3,356,105│ │ 458,810│ │ │ 1845│ 53,060,354│ 3,817,642│ │ 4,535,561│ 23,720│ │ │ │ │ │ ——————————│ —————————│ │ │ │ │ │ 40,963,170│£9,840,768│ │ │ │ │ │ 9,840,768│ │ │ │ │ │ │ ——————————│ │ │ Net reduction of taxation before Free Trade, │£30,922,802│ │ └──────────────────────────────────────────────┴───────────┴──────────┘

TAXES REPEALED SINCE FREE TRADE. ┌───────────┬───────────┬──────────┬───────────┬───────────┬──────────┐ │ Year. │ Revenue. │ Surplus. │Deficiency.│ Taxes │ Taxes │ │ │ │ │ │ repealed. │ imposed. │ ├───────────┼───────────┼──────────┼───────────┼───────────┼──────────┤ │ 1846│£53,790,138│£2,846,308│ —│ £1,151,790│ £2,000│ │ 1847│ 51,546,264│ —│ £2,956,684│ 344,886│ —│ │ 1848│ 53,388,717│ —│ 796,419│ 585,968│ —│ │ 1849│ 52,951,749│ 2,098,126│ —│ 388,798│ —│ │ 1850│ 52,810,680│ 2,578,806│ —│ 1,310,151│ —│ │ 1851│ 52,233,006│ 2,726,396│ —│ 2,679,864│ 600,000│ │ │ │ │ │ ——————————│ ————————│ │ │ │ │ │ 6,462,457│ £602,000│ │ │ │ │ │ 602,000│ │ │ │ │ │ │ ——————————│ │ │ Net reduction of taxation since Free Trade, │ £5,860,457│ │ └──────────────────────────────────────────────┴───────────┴──────────┘

Further, how has this reduction of £5,860,457 been effected? Simply by the previous imposition of the income-tax, which produced £5,629,000 before Free Trade began. That is, Sir R. Peel took taxes off the shoulders of the whole community, when it was so generally diffused that it was not felt, and laid it as _an exclusive burden upon less than 300,000 individuals_ in it! This is not reduction of taxation; it is shifting the burden, for the sake of popularity, from one class to another, on whom it falls with crushing severity.

The Free-Traders boast of a surplus of above £2,500,000 annually under the operation of their system. But for the income-tax it would not be a surplus at all, but a deficit of £3,000,000 annually. So oppressive, however, vexatious, and unjust is that tax, and so enormous the severity with which it presses upon agricultural industry compared to commercial, that its continuance cannot much longer be endured. It has been truly described as an “_impost_ on the landed interest, and a _contribution_ by the commercial.” And that really is its character, so flagrant are the frauds and evasions by which the unscrupulous among the trading classes evade its operation. The present high state of the public funds, owing to the long continuance of peace, the destruction of a large part of the trading classes by Sir Robert Peel’s monetary system, and the impulse given to industry by the repeal of that system, by the opening of the great banks of issue by Providence in California and Australia, has now raised the 3 per cents above 100, and gives a fair prospect of the Chancellor of the Exchequer being able to save £1,500,000 to the nation annually, by converting the 3 per cents into a 2½ per cent stock. Should he effect this, and, by the aid of that reduction and the surplus, succeed in taking off the income-tax, he will confer the greatest boon ever bestowed on his country since the former tax of 10 per cent was repealed, and do more to establish the popularity of his administration, than by any other measures that could possibly be devised.

THE MOOR AND THE LOCH.[9]

By many who are fond of excitement, and by some who require it, a general election may be considered as rather a pleasant event. It certainly does break in upon the monotony of everyday existence, and gives a strong fillip to the latent energies of the people. The burly energetic patriot, who can spout, and bellow, and declaim, now becomes a man of mark and likelihood—a very Saul among his brethren. The aged plotter of the clique—“Sesina, that old negotiator”—as he shuffles past, with a dodge evidently concealed beneath the grizzly penthouse of his eyebrows, is regarded with mysterious awe as the hierophant of electioneering wiles. Even the veriest noodle finds his value rising in the market; for, if he is fit for nothing else, he can at least call at the electors’ houses, and leave cards for the candidates. Ever open from morning to night are the doors of the committee-rooms, vomiting forth shoals of canvassers, and reabsorbing them on their return with the reports of their daily mission. All this, we allow, may be agreeable to those whose blood, in ordinary times, is wont to stagnate; but, for our part, we do not scruple to confess that such an occasion as the present is exceedingly distracting and inconvenient. Our political principles, we take it, are tolerably well known; nor is it likely that, at the eleventh hour, we should change the tenor of our opinions: yet, in the course of the last two days, we have been waited on by no less than six separate sets of canvassers, “respectfully soliciting,” as they phrase it, our interest and vote in favour of Radicals of every dye, rank Whigs, and rampant Sectarians. In the streets no man is safe. Second votes are esteemed of more value than the first; and every third man you meet is intent upon nailing you for a pledge. Under these circumstances, availing ourselves of the plea that the weather is too sultry to admit of our stirring abroad, we have deserted our study, and emigrated to the attics, from the windows of which we can command a wide view of the distant Highland hills. Safe, therefore, we trust we may consider ourselves, for an hour or so at least, from all interruption, save the twittering of the swallows bringing food to their young in the nest at the upper corner of the window.

Beautiful in their disarray, and recalling many memories of forest, lake, and hill, are the implements of sylvan sport that our silent attic contains. There, in one corner, are our rods, six in number, from Behemoth, with which we slew the giant salmon of the Ness, to Spirling, the liveliest little wand that ever struck midge into the tongue of a Yarrow trout. What would we not give at this moment for a day’s fishing! O for a fairy car to waft us away bodily from the din of cities and hustings to the lovely bosom of Loch Awe! Soft and green wave the beeches in the summer breeze on those islands where the wood-hyacinth is so blue, and the honeysuckle so flush and fragrant; from the dark woods of Innistrynich you hear the doling of the cushat; while, nearer at hand, the mavis breaks out into a burst of melody. But there is a breeze on the loch, and the boat is on the shore, and Dugald opines that it is time to be up and doing. At the first cast, up rises a whopper, visibly yellow about the fin, and weighing, we shall suppose, by the way the line runs out, at least a pound and three quarters. Never did Limerick steel encounter a worthier foeman. At length, in the experienced hands of Dugald, the landing-net does its duty; and there he lies at the bottom of the boat, in all the lustre of his stars. Are the trout not rising to-day? With two pounders simultaneously upon your line, you may confidently answer—Yes; indeed, there would seem to be no end at all to their leaping. Towards evening we shall go down the loch, and try for a _salmo ferox_ in Castle Connal bay; in the mean time, let us keep to the islands. But who is that in the boat contending, if we mistake not, with a salmon? Ha, Dugald! is it so indeed?—the author of the _Moor and the Loch_!

Hark! there goes the bell, recalling us at once from our day-dream. Who the mischief can have come to trouble us just now? What is this? Fire and faggots! “Your vote and interest are respectfully solicited in favour of Mr Macwheedle.” Why, the man is a rank Radical, and moreover coquetting with the Papists! John, fling this card into the waste-basket, and tell the gentlemen who brought it, with our compliments, that we are particularly engaged at present, but shall not fail to give our earnest attention to the subject. And stay, as the day is hot, you may as well offer them a glass of beer. No one shall say that we were guilty of discourtesy, though we were very nearly on the point of desiring them to go to Jericho. For have they not cost us a long journey, in bringing us back from Loch Awe before our time?

Vain would it be for us to retrace our steps, and conjure up again the eidolon of Mr Colquhoun in desperate battle with the fish. More happy than ourselves, he is doubtless at breezy Sonachan, whilst we are in the city, panting for a mouthful of refreshing air. But though we cannot remember him in person, we have his book beside us; and a better, more useful, or more entertaining companion for a sportsman cannot anywhere be found. Sporting treatises ought, generally speaking, to be received with considerable caution. Let any man, who is either an angler or a shot, reflect seriously on the enormous amount of exaggeration in which he has indulged whilst detailing the particulars of his prowess, and he will, if he has in him any candour at all, understand the force of our observation. Almost every one of us—and we are no exception—are in the habit of viewing our own exploits through the medium of powerful magnifying glasses. In doing so, we merely obey a law of nature which exhorts men to maintain their dignity and reputation; and there is no point whatever upon which people are so touchy as their success in sporting. To doubt, far less contradict, a gentleman who proffers for your acceptance the narrative of an enormous basketful killed a fortnight ago in the Tweed; or that of a red-deer, stopped at full speed in the Athole forest, at a distance of four hundred yards, by the rifle of the historian, and so huge that Crerar absolutely swooned at the sight of it; or of myriads of grouse, brought down right and left, without a single failure, is a hideous breach of manners. If, in your heart, you believe that your informant is a much inferior sportsman to yourself, you must meet him by overpowering statements; and it is very singular that, after having twice told a fabulous Iliad of your exploits, you end by thoroughly believing it. The boundary line between the realm of fact and that of fiction is very indistinct; we ought rather to say that it is nowhere absolutely marked, and that there exists a large tract of debatable land which may be plausibly claimed for either. For example, we are not at this moment certain whether we ever shot a hooper or not. We have, indeed, in our mind, a dream or vision of a star lit loch, with six beautiful white creatures feeding in a bay. We remember how we crept along, behind a dyke, our heart throbbing so hard as almost to choke us; and we can recall the agonising moment when a stick broke beneath the pressure of our knee, before we came within gunshot, and when the sentinel bird looked up as if conscious of the approach of an intruder. We remember how we levelled and fired. We remember also the dash in the water, and the whirr of wings; and if we do not remember having brought down a second swan, as it wheeled in circle, it is simply because we are somewhat dubious as to the real existence of the first. We should cut but a poor figure if we were questioned on oath as to that transaction. Sometimes the vision comes so clear that we have no doubt whatever that we killed both the swans. One lay dead-still in the bay, its wings distended, and its long neck sunk below the surface. The other fluttered a little way out, but we recovered him by means of a retriever. Then the question rises—which retriever was it, for we have had four of them in our day? Was it Neptune, unparalleled among the reeds at the divine season of the flappers? Or was it Grog, who was never known to lose a wounded hare? Or was it Cato, the curly, who could do everything but speak? Or was it Captain, who is at this moment the inheritor of our best affections? We cannot tell. It is impossible for us to say when or where it occurred. Sometimes we think it was in the Highlands, and then we fix upon Loch Sloy. At other times, it seems to us that we slew the swans in Saint Mary’s Loch, just below the Coppercleugh. Occasionally we are inclined to think that we only shot one of them; and, when very much out of spirits, we have seriously asked ourselves, whether we ever saw a wild swan, except stuffed, in a museum. Being in this state of perplexity, our practice is to split the difference of belief, and to maintain, on ordinary occasions, that we have shot one hooper. Of course, after a few tumblers with a sporting friend, we have no hesitation in bringing forward the second bird; but never, in any instance, have we violated our convictions by increasing the number to three. With this example in our mind, we always deal leniently with sportsmen. If a gentleman is so enthusiastic as to go out to Caffraria, Upper Egypt, or the Cordilleras, solely for the purpose of killing rhinoceroses, crocodiles, or condors, why should we doubt the truth of any narrative which he may be pleased to compile? How do you know that he did _not_ shoot fifteen lions in the course of a summer’s evening, or that he did _not_ ride across the Nile on the back of an enormous crocodile. To question his veracity is simply to commit that impertinence which we have seen practised by snobs, who, not content with your statement of the day’s sport, make a point of peering into your pannier, or examining the contents of your game-bag. Such hounds were intended by nature never to rise above the rank of a water-bailiff. They ought to be summarily dealt with, and dismissed to their kennel, with the reverse of a benison on their heads, and perhaps with a hint to their rear.

Mr Colquhoun has this virtue, that he keeps his imagination more entirely in check, as regards matters of fact, than any sportsman with whose writings we are acquainted. He does not make up his bag or fill his creel in a random way; nor does he add to the narrative of one day, quite enough distinguished by its own achievements, the events of another, which perhaps took place a year before. Neither does he commit the error, so common, of representing every day as a triumph. Read the accounts of most modern anglers, and you are led to conclude that they never, in the whole course of their lives, have failed in filling their baskets; whereas every adept with the rod is well aware that the days of disappointment greatly outnumber those of success. The men of the fowling-piece or rifle never miss. If they are in the Highlands, there is always a plethora of grouse and red-deer; if in Central Africa, you would suppose they were practising in a menagerie, and you conclude that there must be prime pluffing in Polito’s. This, of course, is nonsense; and in our humble opinion, it is calculated to act disadvantageously on the character of young sportsmen. Sporting, in all its branches, is an art which requires to be thoroughly studied on principle; and it is very wrong to excite in the youthful mind expectations which cannot be fulfilled. A boy of fourteen should not be told that he is adequate to the capture of a salmon; or that he has only to go to a certain river and throw in his line, in order to secure one. All education is progressive. He should be entered with minnows, and so made acquainted with the science of bait-fishing; he should be furthered with beardies, encouraged with eels, and in due time initiated into the mystery of capturing a trout with the fly. After that, all is plain sailing. But he should be made to feel practically the difficulties which attend even the rudiments of sport—not be impressed with the idea that there exist no difficulties whatever. We have known many a fine young fellow, who might have become a capital sportsman, stopped at the commencement of his career by the disgust engendered by failure. The imagination of the lad has been so excited by flowery narratives that he cannot summon up patience enough to bide his appointed time: he must either succeed at once, or he abandons the pursuit for ever. We regret to observe that the habits of athletic sport, once so common to the youth of Scotland, are rather on the decline; and our regret arises from the conviction that the fine bodily training which is given by field sports contributes very much to the development of a strong and manly mind. It is not difficult to say, after the perusal of any book, whether the writer is or is not a sportsman. If the former, there is a raciness in his style, a familiarity with nature, and a power of illustration, which immediately rivet your attention. Had Scott not been a sportsman, we should have lost one great charm of his novels. He of the back slums, on the contrary, who never wandered by the water-side, or took the hill with the gun upon his shoulder, is always a feeble writer. There is something sickly about his sentiment; he is vapid, dull, and queasy. His ideas of vegetation are drawn from a window-box with some stunted specimens of mignonette, striving, in spite of soot, to struggle into blossom,—or, at best, from a suburban horse-chestnut. He derives his images of animated life from a rabbit-hutch, or an occasional visit to a slaughter-house. He has no taste for the roaring of the seas, the rushing of the blast, or the thunders of a swollen cataract. He seeks repose, maunders about tranquillity, and presents you with the sketch of a lake; which, on examination, you discover to be the accurate portraiture of a horse-pond. Surely the development of ideas is as important a point as the mere acquirement of information. The one is to be gathered in the field, the other in the schools; and we are not sure that, if we were assured that all the boys were trained timeously to fishing, we should not be inclined to vote for a general prolongation of the holidays.

We must really crave pardon of Mr Colquhoun for having left him in this unceremonious manner. Another batch of canvassers, on the Seceding interest, having probably received notice of our imprudent act of hospitality, has just invaded the premises, and we have had great trouble in getting rid of them at a considerable expenditure of liquor. One gentleman in a fustian jacket tried to engage us in a discussion on the subject of education; but, as his grammar was singularly imperfect, we could not accurately comprehend his meaning. We parted, however, good friends, notwithstanding that one acute Diomede tried to make a Glaucus of us in the matter of a bran-new hat which happened to be exposed in the lobby. Nathless we managed to retain our basnet, and the ‘prentice-cup went its way. We have said already that Mr Colquhoun’s book may be relied on for accuracy of fact; but we should by no means wish to impress our readers with the idea that he is at all deficient in imagination, where imagination can be legitimately employed. Some of his descriptions indeed are very beautiful, and recall the picturesque scenery of the Highlands to the mind as vividly as the inspired pencil of Horatio Macculloch can present it to the eye. But he never condescends to make pictures merely for effect; and perhaps it is this absence of exaggeration which gives such a stamp of truthfulness to his volume. Neither does he affect the magnificent in sporting—a fault which is rather conspicuous in some other writers whom we could name. After reading the lucubrations of some sportsmen, and hearing them discourse, you would conclude that they never condescended to expend powder and lead upon a lesser object than a red-deer, and that they would consider it highly derogatory to exert their energies on the capture of trout, in the unavoidable absence of salmon. That is all fudge. Deer-stalking is an excellent thing in its way, and may indeed be considered as the highest branch of the art venatorial as practised in these islands; but there is not one sportsman out of five hundred who ever had the opportunity of levelling his rifle at a stag, and not one out of a thousand who can pursue the sport systematically. Besides this, the habitual deer-stalker must be a person endowed with uncommon stamina. Quickness of vision—accuracy of aim—caution and perseverance—are admirable things; but the stalker of the deer in his native solitudes must moreover possess the inestimable gifts of muscle and wind in larger proportion than is usually allowed to the inhabitants of cities. He must account it nothing to lie half immersed for hours in a bog or burn, without even the trifling excitement of an occasional glimpse of an antler; he must be prepared to crawl up or rush down precipices, as the exigency of the case or the movements of the deer may require; and he must, moreover, make up his mind to return homewards many an evening, after having been on the hills before cock-crow, wet, weary, and famishing, without a single incident to console him for all his great exertion. Now, there are very few people who will willingly submit to this; and we cannot wonder at it, if other sport can be obtained with a less expenditure of labour. We never knew a deer-stalker yet who had lost his rest for grouse-shooting; and we have known several who, from choice, would rather stalk a curlew than a stag. Your “whaup,” indeed, is a most difficult fellow to circumvent. Seated on the sea-beach, he might defy the approach of Sir Tristrem; indeed, to have shot a whaup in the month of October is an exploit of which any man has just reason to be proud. The true sportsman piques himself on the universality of his skill, not in exclusive addiction to one particular pursuit. Therefore, as a general rule, you may set down every writer on sporting subjects who affects to be more magnificent in his views than his neighbours, either as an impostor, who in reality knows little, or as a monomaniac, whose general experiences of the chase are worthless, and who cannot serve as an adequate guide.

No branch of sporting comes amiss to Mr Colquhoun, who is also an accomplished naturalist. Great on the lake and salmon-river, he is knowing at the “lochan” and the burn; and is aware that oftentimes as much dexterity is required for the capture of a half-pounder, as might suffice for the hooking of the lordliest fish that ever threaded the rapids of the Dee. Even the piscatory student who knows Stoddart by heart—and Tom has long been considered as quite at the summit of his craft—may obtain many a valuable wrinkle from Colquhoun, who is fertile in devices little known to the majority of practical anglers. It is the fashion of some of the brethren of the wand to speak superciliously of sea fishing, as if no sport could be obtained except in fresh water. Now we admit at once that finer fishing is required in fresh than in salt water; but there are times when the latter may be resorted to both with profit and amusement. What the _haaf_ or deep-sea fishing may be we know not; but in the lochs which indent the western shores of Scotland excellent sport may be obtained. We take leave to draw the attention of our sporting friends, who about this time of the year repair to the Highlands, to the following extract from the volume before us:—

“The sea loch has a character peculiarly its own—no wooded islands, no
green or pebbly margin, like its inland sister, except, perhaps, for a
short time at full tide; and the dark mountain more often rises
abruptly from its side in craggy and bold relief. It is a novel sight
for the traveller, whom the refreshing evening breeze has tempted out
of the neighbouring inn, at the landlord’s recommendation, to try his
fishing luck with such a clumsy rod and tackle as he had never dreamt
of before. The awkward-looking herring ‘skows,’ well matched with
their black or red sails, scudding in all directions; the nasal twang
of the Gaelic, as they pass the bow or stern of his boat, shooting
their nets; the hardy weather-beaten face of the Highlander, always
civil in his reply, and courteous in pointing out the most likely
ground to the ‘stranger’—reiterating his injunctions (when his stock
of English extends no further) ‘to keep on the _broo_,’ yet plainly
showing that he expects the like courtesy in return, and that the
least slip on your part would immediately make him change his
tone,—all this can hardly fail to impress on the mind of the
imaginative, that the spirit of the Highlands, though dormant, is not
dead, and to carry back his fancy to the old times of clans, caterans,
and claymores.

“The fishing of the sea loch is not nearly so scientific as that of
the inland. The great art lies in being thoroughly acquainted with the
best state of the tide for commencing operations—in having a perfect
knowledge of the fishing-ground, and being able to set your long-line
with neatness and despatch. Having lived for a couple of years on the
banks of two sea-lochs, I had every opportunity (which I did not
neglect) of practising the different kinds of fishing, and making
myself master of the most propitious times of the tide for doing so
with success.

“Trolling for sea-trout may be ranked at the head of this fishing; but
before attempting to describe it, I shall mention two curious facts
relative to the sea-trout and salmon, which it is difficult to account
for. One is, that the former will take greedily in one loch, while you
may troll a whole day in its next neighbour, though full of them,
without getting a single bite. This was precisely the case in the two
lochs alluded to. The other, that although you may see the huge tails
and back-fins of salmon rising all round, I never heard of one taking
the bait; and during the whole of my trolling in the salt water, I
have only killed one grilse. This is the more strange, as the salmon
is not at all shy of the spinning-bait in the fresh-water loch.

“The best time to begin fishing for sea-trout is at the turn of the
tide when it begins to ebb: the same rod and tackle as when trolling
from a boat in fresh water. The herring-fry, salted, are the most
killing bait, (also excellent for large fish in fresh-water lochs,)
although minnows are very good; a sand-eel may also do, the black skin
pulled over the head so as to show nothing but the white body: this
shines very bright, but, as it does not spin, is far less deadly than
the others. A boatman who thoroughly knows the fishing-ground is
indispensable, as it is much more difficult to find out than in the
fresh water. Strong eddies formed by the tide are often good places;
also any bays, especially if mountain-burns run into them. The largest
size of sea-trout are caught in this way; and, when hooked, from the
depth and _strength_ of the water, make capital play. Large lythe also
are frequently taken; these are like passionate boxers—fight furiously
for a short time, after which they are quite helpless.

“If there is a good pool at the mouth of any mountain-burn, by going
down with your fly-rod during a ‘spate,’ or coming down of the water
after heavy rain, _and when the tide is at the full_, you may have
excellent sport. The trout are all floundering about, ready to take
your fly the moment it touches the water. This only lasts for a short
time, as they all leave the pool at the receding of the tide. I say
nothing of sea-trout or salmon flies, which vary so much in the
different lochs, rivers, and streams, that every angler should be able
to dress them for himself. Any fishing-tackle maker will be happy to
teach him _for a consideration_. He has then only to learn from an
approved hand near, what flies are best for the loch or stream he
intends to fish, and tie them accordingly.”