INTRODUCTION 



&quot; Great indeed,&quot; he exclaimed to a wondering assembly, * great 

 indeed must that man have been, whose very bones attract such 

 attention.&quot; Armed with the bones Cobbett passed like a Prince 

 through a country torn with faction here welcomed, there 

 repulsed, and always self-delighted. He was once again in 

 England, and happy. 



Ill 



A Year s Residence in America is a favourite book among the 

 growing body of admirers of William Cobbett, mainly because 

 it is so pleasant in its autobiography. Did George Borrow learn 

 from him that trick of displaying, enlarging, and discoursing upon 

 his prejudices and opinions, which is so characteristic of both ? 

 A Year s Residence is full of Cobbett the homely man, the 

 romantic, the satirical, the eloquent, the curt. Pigs lead him to 

 Rousseau ; that scurvy root, the potato, is involved with a 

 denunciation of Shakespeare and Milton ; parsons like placemen 

 are distinguished by his scorn ; Arthur Young is but a religious 

 fanatic, bribed by 500 a year ; and Bentham becomes little Mr. 

 Jerry Bentham, an everlasting babbler. He pleases himself with 

 the praise of American hospitality, regretting that it had died in 

 England under the extortion of the tax-gatherer, and still more 

 delights himself with the beauty of American women. But his 

 heart is still in England : &quot; England is my country and to England 

 I shall return. I like it best &quot; ; to which country, he says &quot; I 

 always have affection which I cannot feel towards any other in the 

 same degree, and the prosperity and honour of which I shall, I 

 hope, never cease to prefer before the gratification of all private 

 pleasure and emoluments.&quot; 



Near the close of his life he said, &quot; I suppose that no one has 

 ever passed a happier life than I have done.&quot; That, after all, is 

 his chief recommendation to the kindness of posterity, and the 

 chief virtue of A Year s Residence in America the transparent 

 happiness of the author. And since I began with a portrait by 

 Fearon, I should like to end with another by Hazlitt, who admired 

 him as only Hazlitt can admire with accordant praise and blame 

 in a resounding and perfect antiphony : 



&quot; The only time I ever saw him he seemed to me a very 

 pleasant man : easy of access, affable, clear-headed, simple 

 and mild in his manner, deliberate and unruffled in his 

 speech, though some of his expressions were not very 

 qualified. His figure is tall and portly : he has a good 

 sensible face, rather full, with little grey eyes, a hard, 

 square forehead, a ruddy complexion, with hair grey or 

 powdered : and had on a scarlet broad-cloth waistcoat, 

 xiv 



