CHAPTER XIV.

THE SQUIRE AND HIS VOLUNTEERS.

The Squire and the Wenlock Volunteers—Community of Feeling—Threats of Invasion—“We’ll follow the Squire to Hell if necessary”—The Squire’s Speech—His Birthday—His Letter to the _Shrewsbury Chronicle_—Second Corps—Boney and Beacons—The Squire in a Rage—The Duke of York and Prince of Orange came down.

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“Not once or twice, in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.”

[Picture: Bridgnorth]

WE fancy there was a greater community of feeling in Squire Forester’s day than now, and that whether indulging in sport or in doing earnest work, men acted more together. Differences of wealth caused less differences of caste, of speech, and of habit; men of different classes saw more of each other and were more together; consequently there was more cohesion of the particles of which society is composed, and, if the term be admissible, the several grades were more interpenetrated by agencies which served to make them one. Gentlemen were content with the good old English sports and pastimes of the period, and these caused them to live on their own estates, surrounded by and in the presence of those whom modern refinements serve to separate; and their dependants therefore were more alive to those reciprocal, neighbourly, and social duties out of which patriotism springs. They might not have been better or wiser, but they appear to have approached nearer to that state of society when every citizen considered himself to be so closely identified with the nation as to feel bound to bear arms against an invading enemy, and, as far as possible, to avert a danger. Never was the rivalry of England and France more vehement. Emboldened by successes, the French began to think themselves all but invincible, and burned to meet in mortal combat their ancient enemies, whilst our countrymen, equally defiant, and with recollections of former glory, sought no less an opportunity of measuring their strength with the veteran armies of their rivals. The embers of former passions yet lay smouldering when the French Minister of Marine talked of making a descent on England, and of destroying the Government; a threat calculated to influence the feelings of old sportsmen like Squire Forester, who nourished a love of country, whose souls throbbed with the same national feeling, and who were equally ready to respond to a call to maintain the sacredness of their homes, or to risk their lives in their defence. Oneyers and Moneyers—men “whose words upon ’change would go much further than their blows in battle,” as Falstaff says, came forward, if for nothing else, as examples to others. On both banks of the Severn men looked upon the Squire as a sort of local centre, and as the head of a district, as a leader whom they would follow—as one old tradesman said—to hell, if necessary. A general meeting was called at the Guildhall, Wenlock, and a still more enthusiastic gathering took place at Willey. Mr. Forester never did things by halves, and what he did he did at once. He was not much at speech-making, but he had that ready wit and happy knack of going to the point and hitting the nail on the head in good round Saxon, that told amazingly with his old foxhunting friends.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “you know very well that I have retired from the representation of the borough. I did so in the belief that I had discharged, as long as need be, those public duties I owe to my neighbours; and in the hope that I should be permitted henceforth to enjoy the pleasures of retirement. I parted with my hounds, and gave up hunting; but here I am, continually on horseback, hunting up men all round the Wrekin! The movement is general, and differences of feeling are subsiding into one for the defence of the nation. Whigs and Tories stand together in the ranks; and as I told the Lord-Lieutenant the other day, we must have not less than four or five thousand men in uniform, equipped, every Jack-rag of ’em, without a farthing cost to the country. (Applause.) There are some dastardly devils who run with the hare, but hang with the hounds, damn ’em (laughter); whose patriotism, by G—d, hangs by such a small strand that I believe the first success of the enemies of the country would sever it. They are a lot of damnation Jacobins, all of ’em, whining black-hearted devils, with distorted intellects, who profess to perceive no danger. And, by G—d, the more plain it is, the less they see it. It is, as I say, put an owl into daylight, stick a candle on each side of him, and the more light the poor devil has the less he sees.” (Cries of “Bravo, hurrah for the Squire.”) In conclusion he called upon the lawyer, the ironmaster, the pot maker, the artisan, and the labourer to drill, and prepare for defending their hearths and homes; they had property to defend, shops that might be plundered, houses that might be burned, or children to save from being brained, and wives or daughters to protect from treatment which sometimes prevailed in time of war.

As a result of his exertions, a strong and efficient company was formed, called “The Wenlock Loyal Volunteers.” The Squire was major, and he spared neither money nor trouble in rendering it efficient. He always gave the members a dinner on the 4th of June, the birthday of George III., who had won his admiration and devotion by his boldness as a fox-hunter, no less than by his daring proposal, during the riots of 1780, to ride at the head of his guards into the midst of the fires of the capital. On New Year’s Day, that being the birthday of Major Forester, the officers and men invariably dined together in honour of their commander. The corps were disbanded, we believe, in 1802, for we find in a cutting from a Shrewsbury paper of the 12th of January, 1803, that about that time a subscription was entered into for the purchase of a handsome punch-bowl. The newspaper states that

“On New Year’s Day, 1803, the members of the late corps of Wenlock Loyal Volunteers, commanded by Major Forester, dined at the Raven Inn, Much Wenlock, in honour of their much-respected major’s birthday, when the evening was spent with that cheerful hilarity and orderly conduct which always characterised this respectable corps, when embodied for the service of their king and country. In the morning of the day the officers, deputed by the whole corps, waited on the Major, at Willey, and presented him, in an appropriate speech, with a most elegant bowl, of one hundred guineas value, engraved with his arms, and the following inscription, which the Major was pleased to accept, and returned a suitable answer:—‘To George Forester, of Willey, Esq., Major Commandant of the Wenlock Loyal Volunteers, for his sedulous attention and unbounded liberality to his corps, raised and disciplined under his command without any expense to Government, and rendered essentially serviceable during times of unprecedented difficulty and danger; this humble token of their gratitude and esteem is most respectfully presented to him by his truly faithful and very obedient servants,

“‘THE WENLOCK VOLUNTEERS.

“‘Major Forester.’”

The following reply appeared in the same paper the succeeding week:—

“Major Forester, seeing an account in the Shrewsbury papers relative to the business which occurred at Willey upon New Year’s Day last, between him and his late corps of Wenlock Volunteers, presumes to trouble the public eye with his answer thereto, thinking it an unbounded duty of gratitude and respect owing to his late corps, to return them (as their late commander) his most explicit public thanks, as well as his most grateful and most sincere acknowledgments, for the high honour lately conferred upon him, by their kind present of a silver bowl, value one hundred guineas. Major Forester’s unwearied attention, as well as his liberality to his late corps, were ever looked upon by him as a part of his duty, in order to make some compensation to a body of distinguished respectable yeomanry, who had so much the interest and welfare of him and their country at heart, that he plainly perceived himself, and so must every other intelligent spectator on the ground at the time of exercise, that they only waited impatiently for the word to put the order into execution directly; but with such regularity as their commander required and ever had cheerfully granted to him. A return of mutual regard between the major and his late corps was all he wished for, and he is now more fully convinced, by this public mark of favour, of their real esteem and steady friendship. He therefore hopes they will (to a man) give him credit when he not only assures them of his future constant sincerity and unabated affection, but further take his word when he likewise promises them that his gratitude and faithful remembrance of the Wenlock Loyal Volunteers shall never cease but with the last period of his worldly existence.

“WILLEY, 12th Jan., 1803.”

Soon after the first corps of volunteers was disbanded, the Squire was entertaining his guests with the toast—

“God save the king, and bless the land In plenty, song, and peace; And grant henceforth that foul debates ’Twixt noblemen may cease—”

when he received a letter from London, stating that at an audience given to Cornwallis, the First Consul was very gracious; that he inquired after the health of the king, and “spoke of the British nation in terms of great respect, intimating that as long as they remained friends there would be no interruption to the peace of Europe.”

One of the guests added—

“And that I think’s a reason fair to drink and fill again.”

It was clear to all, however, who looked beneath the surface, that the peace was a hollow truce, and that good grounds existed for timidity, if not for fear, respecting a descent upon our shores:

“Sometimes the vulgar see and judge aright.”

Month by month, week by week, clouds were gathering upon a sky which the Peace of Amiens failed to clear.

The First Consul declared against English commerce, and preparations on a gigantic scale were being made by the construction of vessels on the opposite shores of the Channel for invasion.

The public spirit in France was invoked; the spirit of this country was also aroused, and vigorous efforts were made by Parliament and the people to maintain the inviolability of our shores. Newspaper denunciations excited the ire of the First Consul, who demanded of the English Government that it should restrict their power. A recriminatory war of words, of loud and fierce defiances, influenced the temper of the people on each side of the Channel, and it again became evident that differences existed which could only be settled by the sword. In a conversation with Lord Whitworth, Napoleon was reported to have said:—“A descent upon your coasts is the only means of offence I possess; and that I am determined to attempt, and to put myself at its head. But can you suppose that, after having gained the height on which I stand, I would risk my life and reputation in so hazardous an undertaking, unless compelled to it by absolute necessity. I know that the probability is that I myself, and the greatest part of the expedition, will go to the bottom. There are a hundred chances to one against me; but I am determined to make the attempt; and such is the disposition of the troops that army after army will be found ready to engage in the enterprise.” This conversation took place on the 21st of February, 1803; and such were the energetic measures taken by the English Government and people, that on the 25th of March, independent of the militia, 80,000 strong, which were called out at that date, and the regular army of 130,000 already voted, the House of Commons, on June 28th, agreed to the very unusual step of raising 50,000 men additional, by drafting, in the proportion of 34,000 for England, 10,000 for Ireland, and 6,000 for Scotland, which it was calculated would raise the regular troops in Great Britain to 112,000 men, besides a large surplus force for offensive operations. In addition to this a bill was brought in shortly afterwards to enable the king to call out the levy _en masse_ to repel the invasion of the enemy, and empowering the lord-lieutenants of the several counties to enrol all the men in the kingdom, between seventeen and fifty-five years of age, to be divided into regiments according to their several ages and professions: those persons to be exempt who were members of any volunteer corps approved of by his Majesty. Such was the state of public feeling generally that the king was enabled to review, in Hyde Park, sixty battalions of volunteers, 127,000 men, besides cavalry, all equipped at their own expense. The population of the country at the time was but a little over ten millions, about a third of what it is at present; yet such was the zeal and enthusiasm that in a few weeks 300,000 men were enrolled, armed, and disciplined, in the different parts of the kingdom.

The movement embraced all classes and professions. It was successful in providing a powerful reserve of trained men to strengthen the ranks and to supply the vacancies of the regular army, thus contributing in a remarkable manner to produce a patriotic ardour and feeling among the people, and laying the foundation of that spirit which enabled Great Britain at length to appear as principal in the contest, and to beat down the power of France, even where hitherto she had obtained unexampled success.

Thus, after the first Wenlock Loyal Volunteers were disbanded, Squire Forester found but little respite; he and the Willey fox-hunters again felt it their duty to come forward and enroll themselves in the Second Wenlock Royal Volunteers.

“Design whate’er we will, There is a fate which overrules us still.”

No man was better fitted to undertake the task; no one knew better how

“By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.”

And, mainly through his exertions, an able corps was formed, consisting of a company and a half at Much Wenlock, a company and a half at Broseley, and half a company at Little Wenlock; altogether forming a battalion of 280 men. For the county altogether there were raised 940 cavalry, 5,022 infantry; rank and file, 5,852. Mr. Harries, of Benthall; Mr. Turner, of Caughley; Mr. Pritchard and Mr. Onions, of Broseley; Messrs. W. and R. Anstice, of Madeley Wood and Coalport; Mr. Collins, Mr. Jeffries, and Mr. Hinton, of Wenlock; and others, were among the officers and leading members. The uniform was handsome, the coat being scarlet, turned up with yellow, the trousers and waistcoat white, and the hat a cube, with white and red feathers for the grenadiers, and green ones for the light company. The old hall once more resounded with martial music, the clang of arms, and patriotic songs; drums and fifes, clarionets and bugles, were piled up with guns and accoutrements in the form of trophies, above the massive chimney-piece, putting the deer-horns, the foxes’ heads, and the old cabinets of oak—black as ebony—out of countenance by their gaudy colouring. People became as familiar with the music of military bands as with the sound of church bells; both were heard together on Sundays, the days generally selected for drill, for heavy taxes were laid on, and people had to work hard to pay them, which they did willingly. The Squire had the women on his side, and he worked upon the men through the women. There was open house at Willey, and no baron of olden time dealt out hospitality more willingly or more liberally. The Squire was here, there, and everywhere, visiting neighbouring squires, giving or receiving information, stirring up the gentry, and frightening country people out of their wits. _Boney_ became more terrible than _bogy_, both to children and grown-up persons; and the more vague the notion of invasion to Shropshire inlanders, the more horrible the evils to be dreaded. The clergy preached about Bonaparte out of the Revelations; conjurers and “wise-men,” greater authorities even then than the clergy, saw a connection between Bonaparte and the strange lights which every one had seen in the heavens! The popular notion was that “Boney” was an undefined, horrible monster, who had a sheep dressed every morning for breakfast, who required an ox for his dinner, and had six little English children cooked—when he could get them—for supper! At the name of “Boney” naughty children were frightened, and a false alarm of his coming and landing often made grown-up men turn pale.

“This way and that the anxious mind is torn.”

The impulse was in proportion to the alarm; the determination raised was spirited and praiseworthy. Stout hearts constituted an _impromptu_ force, daily advancing in organization, with arms and accoutrements, ready to march with knapsacks to any point where numbers might be required. Once or twice, when a company received orders to march, as to Bridgnorth, for instance, an alarm was created among wives, daughters, and sweethearts, that they were about to join the battalion for active service, and stories are told of leave-takings and weepings on such occasions. Beacons were erected, and bonfires prepared on the highest points of the country round, as being the quickest means of transmitting news of the approach of an enemy. Of these watch-fire signals, Macaulay says:—

“On and on, without a horse untired, they hounded still All night from tower to tower, they sprang from hill to hill, Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o’er Derwent’s rocky dales,— Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales,— Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern’s lonely height,— Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin’s crest of light— Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Elsig’s stately fane, And tower and hamlet rose in arms o’er all the boundless plain.”

Within a mile of Willey Hall a tenant of Squire Forester, and, as we have seen, an occasional guest—John Wilkinson, “the great ironmaster”—was urging his men day and night to push the manufacture of shot, shell, howitzers, and guns, which Mr. Forester believed were for the government of the country, but many of which were designed for its enemies. Night and day heavy hammers were thundering, day and night the “great blast” was blowing. He was well known to the French government and French engineers, having erected the first steam engine there in 1785, for which he was highly complimented by the Duke d’Angouleme, M. Bertrand, and others, and treated to a grand banquet, given to him on the 14th of January, 1786, at the Hôtel de Ville. Arthur Young, in his travels in France, tells us that until this well-known English manufacturer arrived the French knew nothing of the art of casting cannon from the solid, and then boring them. When Wilkinson returned to England, he continued to send guns after war had been declared. This clandestine proceeding came to the knowledge of Squire Forester, who swore, and roared like a caged lion. Here was the Squire, who boasted of his loyalty to good King George, having the minerals of his estate worked up into guns for those wretched French, whom he detested. He declared he would hunt Wilkinson out of the country; but the latter took care to keep out of his way.

The exposure ended in a seizure being made. But Wilkinson, a money-getting, unprincipled fellow, finding he could not send guns openly, sent best gun-iron in rude blocks, with a pretence that they were for ballast for shipping, but which, like some of his water-pipes, were used for making guns. His warehouse was at Willey Wharf, on the Severn, by which they were sent, when there was sufficient water, in barges, which took them out into the British Channel, and round the coast to French cruisers; and it was at this wharf he built his first famous iron barge. The proprietors of the Calcutts furnaces, at which young Cochrane, afterwards Earl Dundonald—one of the last of our old “Sea Lions”—spent some time, when a boy, with his father, Lord Dundonald, {171} were also casting and boring guns; but, in consequence of refusing to fee Government servants at Woolwich, the manufacturers had a number of them thrown upon their hands, which they sold to a firm at Rotherham, and which found their way to India, where they were recognised by old workmen in the army, who captured them during the Sikh war. At the same time cannon which burst, and did almost as much damage to the English as to their enemies, were palmed off upon the nation.

Mr. Forester wrote to the Duke of York, who came down, accompanied by the Prince of Orange, to examine the guns for himself; and a number of 18 and 32-pounders were fired in honour of the event. Others were subjected to various tests, to the entire satisfaction of the visitors.

At this period the Willey country presented a spectacle altogether unparalleled in Mr. Forester’s experience; his entire sympathy and that of his fox-hunting friends was enlisted in the warlike movements everywhere going forward, for the standards of the Wenlock and Morfe Volunteers now drew around them men of all classes. Farmers allowed their ploughs to stand still in the furrows, that the peasant might hurry with the artisan, musket on shoulder, to his rallying point in the fields near Wenlock, Broseley, or Bridgnorth. Whigs and Tories stood beside each other in the Volunteer ranks, heart-burnings and divisions as to principles and policy were for the time forgotten, and the Squire, although now unable to take the same active part he formerly did, contributed materially by his presence and advice to the zeal and alacrity which distinguished his neighbours.