Volume 1 — MEMOIRS (continued 7)

Such is one of the anecdotes that Mr. Gordon Grey related of me, and which circumstance, with a hundred others of a similar nature, had entirely escaped my memory, and would never have been related here, had it not been for the journey in the Bath stage coach; although the mark, which Old Trojan's tooth made on the thumb of my right hand, is always present to my view, particularly when I am writing, and which mark, I observed at the time, would always bring the event to my recollection, as I should carry it with me to the grave. That I shall carry it there is certain, for it is still perfectly visible, though it was inflicted twenty-eight years ago.

Such was the man whom Lord Bruce dismissed from the Marlborough troop of yeomanry, as unworthy to rank amongst those who had volunteered their services to repel the invasion of a powerful, menacing foreign foe! Such was the man and such was his zeal and enthusiasm—such his devoted patriotism, that, had it been practicable to lay a mine of gunpowder under the Boulogne flotilla, he would, with the same alacrity as he now rescued the stag, have dashed into the sea with a lighted torch in one hand while he swam with the other! Such was the man who would have fearlessly applied the torch to the train, and freely have blown them and himself together into the air, to have saved his country! And this was the sort of man that Lord Bruce knew me to be when, to gratify the rage of his father, he undertook to dismiss me from the Wiltshire Regiment of Yeomanry Cavalry, because I had, forsooth, killed ten brace of pheasants at twenty shots!

Well, the day at length arrived for my attending the Court of King's Bench, to stand, for the first time, upon its floor to receive judgment. Mr. Justice Garrow and Mr. Justice Burrough were my counsel; and the former made an eloquent appeal to the court, declaring that he would much rather be placed in my situation than that of the noble lord; and winding up his speech with a high eulogium upon my character, he said, that if he lived in my neighbourhood, I should be the first man that he would seek for as a friend, &c. &c. The present Lord Erskine and the late Sir Vickery Gibbs were employed to pray for the judgment of the court against me; but his lordship conducted himself with the greatest moderation and even kindness towards me, and never uttered one single offensive or unkind sentence in the whole of his eloquent harangue. But the little, waspish, black-hearted viper, Gibbs, whose malignant, vicious, and ill-looking countenance was always the index of his little mind, made a most virulent, vindictive, and cowardly attack upon me, which was so morose and unfeeling, and so uncalled for by the circumstances, that, if I had not been held back by any attorney, I should certainly have inflicted a summary and a just chastisement upon him upon the spot, by dashing back his lies, together with his teeth, down his throat. I was, however, restrained, and sentence was passed by old mumbling Grose, that I should pay ONE HUNDRED POUNDS to the King, and be committed to the custody of the Marshal of the court for SIX WEEKS. There sat, squatting upon the bench, KENYON, Chief Justice, GROSE, LAWRENCE, and LE BLANC; all four of them gone, long, long ago, to receive their sentence from the Judge of another and a higher court, the JUDGE of JUDGES; and the Lord have mercy on them! say I. I paid the fine immediately, and two friends, who were in court, entered into recognizances in five hundred pounds each, and myself in one thousand pounds, to keep the peace towards this gallant lord for three years.

I was handed over to a tipstaff, who very civilly conducted me and my friends in a coach to the King's Bench, which place I had the evening before been to reconnoitre with my friend Mr. Wm. Butcher, who had come to town with me, and had voluntarily become one of my bail. My friends anticipated that I should be committed to the King's Bench, as I had made up my mind not to offer any apology to Lord Bruce.

At this time Mr. Waddington was a prisoner in the King's Bench, for forestalling hops; and as he had conducted his defence before the court with great energy and considerable talent; and, as he was convicted upon an old obsolete statute, he was not esteemed guilty of any moral crime. I had imbibed a notion that the debtors in the prison were generally a set of swindlers, and I was, therefore, anxious to avoid their society, or having anything to do with them; which feeling, however erroneous, increased my desire to become acquainted with Mr. Waddington. The chief temptation, however, undoubtedly was his being a man who had become celebrated for the spirit which he had several times evinced before the court, in defending himself against what was generally considered as a mere political prosecution. I made several inquiries about him, but I only learned that he was not within the walls, and that he had apartments over the lobby, without the gates. I was, as yet, too great a novice to comprehend what was meant by imprisonment without being in prison.

I arrived at the prison about two o'clock, and was conducted into the coffee room, kept by Mr. Davey, the Marshal's coachman, where we were soon accommodated with a very good dinner. In the mean time I had made the necessary inquiry for an apartment, but the prison was represented to be very full; and I was shewn one or two rooms, where the parties occupying them had no objection to turn out, to accommodate me, for a certain stipulated sum. Amongst the number I was shewn up into a very good room, which was occupied by a lady, who, it was said, would give up her room for ten pounds. When we entered the room she was singing very divinely, she being no less a personage than Mrs. Wells, the celebrated public singer. With great freedom she inquired which was the gentleman, me or my attorney, who accompanied me; and upon being informed that I was the prisoner, she eyed me over from head to toe, and then, with that art of which she was so much a mistress, she simpering said, that "she was loath to part with her room at any price, but that, as I appeared a nice wholesome country gentleman, I should be welcome to half of it without paying any thing." As I was not prepared to enter into a contract of that sort, I hastily retired, and left my attorney to settle the quantum of pecuniary remuneration with her.

We dined very pleasantly, I think six of us; and, before the cloth was removed, I had a visit from my friend, the Rev. John Prince, the chaplain of the Magdalen, and vicar of the parish of Enford, whose churchwarden I was. I stated to him the difficulty I had in procuring a suitable apartment; which he no sooner heard than he volunteered his services to go immediately to his friend and neighbour, the Marshal, with whom he had no doubt he should readily arrange that matter for me to my satisfaction. I was much pleased to have such an advocate as Mr. Prince, a man so well known, and so much esteemed for his piety and goodness of heart. But he soon returned, looking very grave, and said, that he could do nothing with the Marshal, who would not enter into any conversation with him upon the subject; but told him, that if Mr. Hunt wanted any thing, he was ready to do whatever lay in his power to serve him, but that his attorney was the proper person to transact such business, and that it was quite out of the worthy parson's line.

My attorney, Mr. Bird, immediately waited upon the Marshal; and, while he was gone, Mr. Prince informed me, that his old friend Jones had behaved quite rudely to him, and expressed himself very much surprised that a man of his calling should think of interfering in such matters. Poor Prince was, therefore, fully impressed with an idea that Mr. Jones would do nothing to accommodate me, as he had quite huffed him. In ten minutes, however, Mr. Bird returned, with the news that he had settled every thing with the Marshal; that I should have an apartment over the lobby, but that I must go with him to the Marshal, and enter into security not to escape, &c. &c. I immediately complied; and, as we went along, he informed me, that I was to give a bond for five thousand pounds not to escape; and that it would not be necessary for me to return again within the walls. This I readily agreed to, and the matter was settled in ten minutes. I was to have the room over the front lobby, and the run of the key.

I returned to my friends elated with the prospect of my being so comfortable, as I had been very much disgusted with the scenes of profligacy and drunkenness that I had already witnessed within the walls. Mrs. Filewood, the principal turnkey's wife, who kept the lobby, was to prepare my bed, and get every thing ready for me in my room by ten o'clock, the time at which my friends were to leave the prison. When the hour arrived, I was shown into a very spacious room, nicely furnished, with a neat bureau bedstead, standing in one corner. My hostess, who was a pretty, modest-looking woman, was very communicative, and so attentive that I really felt quite as comfortable as if I had been at an inn. It was, in fact, much better than the apartments I had been in at the inn, in London, the Black Lion, Water Lane. There was a good fire in the room, and every thing bore the air of cleanliness and comfort, and I went to bed and slept till day-light, as sound and as well as I ever slept in my life.

As I lay in my bed, thinking of the new situation in which I was placed, I lamented that I had not overnight made some inquiries about Mr. Waddington, as I still felt very anxious to become acquainted with him; and I was devising all sorts of schemes how I could gain an introduction to him, when my hostess knocked at my door, to say that Mr. Waddington, the gentleman who lodged in the room over me, sent his compliments, and wished that I would favour him with my company to breakfast, which he would have ready in half an hour's time. This was to me a most gratifying invitation, which I cheerfully accepted with as little ceremony as it was made.

Having dressed myself I was shown into his room, which was immediately over mine; I being on the first and he on the second story. Having read a great deal about him in the papers, I had formed to myself an idea of Mr. Waddington; but instead of meeting, as I expected, a tall, stout, athletic person, I found him rather a short, thin gentleman, who approached me quite with the air and address of a foreigner. He, however, received me very politely, and having shaken each other by the hand, we had a hearty laugh at the expense of our prosecutors, and the ridiculous situation in which we were placed. From that moment all reserve was laid aside between us, and before we had finished our breakfast, we agreed to mess together during the six weeks which I had to remain: he being sentenced for six months. It was arranged that my room should be the dining and his the drawing-room, and, whoever might visit us, that he should pay the expenses of the first day, and I of the next, and so on alternately. We had our meals provided by Mr. Davey, at the coffee room, and sent to us, and we settled our bill of the preceding day every morning at breakfast. Without once having deviated from this plan, we passed our time, for the six weeks, in the most profound harmony and good humour with each other, never having had the slightest disagreement during the whole of the period that we were together.

I soon discovered that my new acquaintance was a great politician, and that he was a decided opposition man, or rather a democrat, a sort of being which I had hitherto been taught to look upon, if not with an evil, at least with a suspicious eye. I was a professed loyal man; but, before we had been together four and twenty hours, he pronounced me to be a real democrat, without my being aware of it myself. I found him a cheerful companion, who, whatever I might think of his political feelings and information, was at any rate possessed of a great share of mercantile knowledge. His opinions upon political matters were many of them new to me; and his arguments, though there was much ingenuity in them, were not altogether calculated to carry conviction to the mind. His conversation, however, gave me an insight into many matters that I had never before had an opportunity of investigating or of hearing discussed.

On the second day, I was for the first time introduced to Henry Clifford, the barrister, who was one of Mr. Waddington's counsel, and who came to dine with us. I was very much pleased with him, and though he advocated the same principles that were professed by his client, yet he did it in such a way, and in such plain intelligible language, that every word, every sentence, carried conviction with it. He conversed of rational liberty, of freedom as the natural rights of man, and as the law of God and nature. He put the matter clearly and distinctly, undisguised by sophistry; and, as far as I could discover by his discourse, I had already an inherent love of that liberty of which he spoke: I was naturally an enthusiastic admirer of freedom, and an implacable foe to tyranny and oppression; and this I admitted to him, at the same time that I disclaimed any participation in those principles which were designated as jacobinical, and professed myself a loyal man, and a friend to my king and country.

With the greatest good-nature, Mr. Clifford smiled at my folly; "but," said he, "my worthy young friend, and I am proud to call you so, I see that you have in reality imbibed the best, the most honourable of principles; the seeds of genuine patriotism are implanted in your heart, it only requires a little time to rear them into maturity, and, I have not the least doubt but they will, ere long, produce good and useful fruit. I believe you are a really loyal man, a sincere friend to your king and country; and if I thought you were not, our acquaintance, I assure you, should be very short, but, as you are one, I hope our friendship will only cease with our lives." I shall take leave to say that this wish was accomplished to the very letter, as I ever afterwards lived in the most friendly habits of intimacy with him till the time of his decease.

Our discourse now became more general. Mr. Waddington had listened with great attention to his friend Clifford's clear and undisguised manner of initiating, as he called it, the young countryman into the science of politics; and he appeared much delighted to find that "the bait took so well." Clifford reproved his expression, and added, that the young countryman, as he was pleased to term me, required nothing more than a little practical knowledge of corruption, to make him shake off all his natural prejudices, and become as good and sincere a defender of liberty as either of them.

By this time, our friend Clifford, who was then a two-bottle man, had taken his glass too freely to make himself intelligible any longer, and I resisted the proposition of Mr. Waddington to uncork another bottle, as I was very much shocked to see one of the most intelligent and truly able men in the country, reduced to a mere idiot by the effect of wine. Mr. Waddington, who was naturally an abstemious man, agreed with me, and, as we had previously given a general invitation to Clifford to dine with us twice a week, we now came also to a resolution, that, in future, we would not be deprived in such a way of his instructive and agreeable society. To accomplish our purpose, we agreed, therefore, that we would limit the quantity of wine to be drank when he was at our table, and that, as soon as the quantity was gone, coffee or tea should invariably be introduced.

Our friend and guest literally reeled down stairs when he took leave of us, and I could not help observing, what a misfortune it was for such a brilliant man to drown his senses and obscure his intellect with wine. Though I had for some years, at least since I was married, kept that sort of company which led me to take my glass freely, yet I seldom took it to excess, and never to inebriate myself. This melancholy example of Mr. Clifford had a very great effect upon me. To see a man of the most brilliant talent, of the most profound erudition, so far forget himself as to become an object of pity and contempt, imbecile, and even beastly, was a sight which made a deep and lasting impression upon my mind, and I began to think that my own partial indulgence in the practice of drinking so freely after dinner was an act of great weakness and folly, which, if not checked, was likely to degenerate into one of the worst of crimes.

In these sentiments my friend Waddington agreed with me, and he readily joined in a determination never to suffer any thing of the sort to take place at our table again while we remained together. This resolution we managed to keep, though we had a difficult task to perform when Mr. Clifford and the Rev. Dr. Gabriel dined with us, which was regularly twice a week. The reverend doctor, in particular, we found it incumbent upon us to keep within strict bounds; for, when he had got a little too much wine, though he was an old man, and a dignitary of the church, it was with great difficulty we could restrain him from indulging in obscene conversation, with which my friend and myself were equally disgusted. The doctor was a wit and a scholar, but, as Mrs. Waddington and her family, as well as other amiable females both of her and my friends, frequently visited us, his language was not to be tolerated, and, consequently, I undertook one morning to remonstrate with the doctor upon the subject. He freely acknowledged his error, but attributed it to a foolish habit that he had acquired at college, of which he could never afterwards wholly break himself. At the same time, he pleaded that he never forgot himself so far as to disgrace his profession, unless he had taken too much wine—which, by the bye, was every day when he could get it. I made known to the doctor our resolution to limit him to a bottle, and that his visits were to be continued upon that understanding. To this he readily assented, and thenceforth we found him to be a well-informed and entertaining companion, on the two days in the week that he was invited to dine with us. The doctor was reduced in circumstances, and was living within the rules. It was he who built the octagon chapel at Bath, of which he was the proprietor, and where he preached for many years. He was a man of letters, and, when sober, a perfect gentleman; but, when ever so little elevated, he betrayed, even to us comparative strangers, that he was a complete free thinker. Many of my readers will recollect the literary controversy which took place between him and, I believe, Doctor Gardiner, of Bath. I forget what were his politics, but I believe he was a Whig. One thing I perfectly recollect, which was, that when he was going to relate an obscene story or anecdote, he always gave us a preliminary intimation of it by sneezing. He was, on the whole, one of the most extraordinary of the numerous extraordinary characters that I became acquainted with while I remained at the King's Bench, during my first visit there of six weeks, in the years 1800 and 1801.

This was a very distressing season for the poor; and Mr. Waddington and myself gave a ton of potatoes to the poor prisoners in the King's Bench every week; nor, during the time that I was there, did we ever fail to relieve not only every applicant, and they were numerous, but also to seek privately for objects of distress within the walls; and wherever we found an unfortunate object, we did our best to alleviate his misery. Some we found almost naked, without clothes or even bedding; some who were pining, in secret, silent want, who were ashamed to make their wretchedness known. These we never failed to succour. The Marshal likewise assisted us in these acts of charity, and did every thing that humanity and kindness could suggest, to ameliorate the condition of the unhappy prisoners in his custody.

It being now the season when those who toil for us naturally expect some proof of our friendship and gratitude, to enable them to enjoy their long anticipated merriment, I sent home directions to Mrs. Hunt to have my usual Christmas present given to each of my servants. It consisted of a good piece of beef, some potatoes, and faggots to dress it with, the quantity given being in proportion to the size of the family. This good custom I learned from my father, and I regularly continued it every year; but it was always done, I hope, with a becoming spirit, without any ostentation. I never, as many did, caused my little charitable acts to be blazoned forth in the public newspapers. I will venture to say, that, while we were in the King's Bench, Mr. Waddington and myself gave away, privately, a larger sum, in comparison with our incomes, than, any of the publicly blazoned forth charitable men in the city of London, who were lauded up to the sky for their benevolent disposition. Every Christmas, each servant, who had worked for me during the year, received a present of beef enough to keep each person a week, which was never noticed in any of the public newspapers, though they constantly teemed with pompous accounts of the generosity, benevolence, and charity of my more opulent neighbours, who never gave half so much; in fact, who never gave a twentieth part so much as myself, in proportion to their means.

A circumstance of this sort, which happened not a hundred miles from this place, and the description of which was given to me by a farmer, has caused me a hearty laugh. It was lately paragraphed in all the country as well as the London papers, and spread far and near, that a worthy and reverend magistrate, in this neighbourhood, had, with great liberality, given away an ox to his parishioners; some, in their great bounty, added eight or ten sheep to the boon. I was one day speaking with due praise of this act before a farmer of the neighbourhood, who had called to visit me; upon which he burst into a loud horse laugh, and exclaimed, "Oh, the old cow!" The fact was, as he informed me, that the worthy magistrate had an old Norman cow, that had done breeding, and consequently gave no more milk; and as every farmer in the country well knows that the Devil himself could not graze an old cow of this sort to make her fit for the butcher, the worthy parson very properly gave her away amongst his parishioners; and the praises of this mighty gift were hawked about in almost every newspaper in the kingdom!

I do not give any name, neither do I, in the remotest degree, bring forward the circumstance by way of taunt or ridicule. There was nothing improper in it, but the contrary; and, of course, the old cow afforded many a hearty meal, and many a porridge-pot full of good wholesome broth to those amongst whom she was divided, who, no doubt, were very thankful to the worthy justice for the present. I only mention it to shew that it "is not all gold that glitters," and how such a thing is trumpeted forth when it is once set a going. I know it is the practice of many persons to give a trifle at this time of the year, and then get one of their dependents to send, and not unfrequently they themselves send, an account of it to the county paper. Away goes the news, and a person's name is blazoned forth all over the kingdom, as a most charitable man or woman, when it often happens that a great deal of misery, poverty, wretchedness and want presents itself to their view all the year round, without their ever once extending that aid which, to bestow in private, would afford them ten times as much heart-felt pleasure, and real satisfaction, as they can gain from their ostentatious annual newspaper fraud. I have given away four times the value of this said cow, every Christmas, for ten or fifteen years together, without having ever once had, or wishing to have, my name held up in a public newspaper, as an example of charity and liberality to the poor. Yet, twenty years ago, before I was known as a reformer, when, for instance, I was in the King's Bench, a pound note, a fifth part of what Mr. Waddington and I gave away privately, besides the ton of potatoes, would have caused my name to cut a pompous figure in all the vehicles of news, both in town and country. I may, without boasting, declare, that scarcely a month in my life ever passed without my having given away more than the value of the said old cow, to relieve and assist my fellow creatures in distress; and yet the public well know how my name has been bandied about in every newspaper in England, Ireland, and Scotland, and, of late years, in almost every paper in Europe, as the greatest enemy of the poor, as their deceiver, their deluder, their plunderer! I have been held up, for political purposes, by the venal press, as a sort of ferocious monster, who longed to gorge upon the life-blood of my fellow countrymen! It will be asked by some, how comes it that all the public press has been induced to represent you as a monster of this description? The answer is easy. For this plain reason: because all those who belong to the public press, the liberal press, have been the agents or the, tools of one or the other of the two great political factions, nick-named Whigs and Tories; because throughout the whole of my political life, I have honestly opposed the peculations, the plunderings, and frauds of the borough-mongers of both those two factions upon the people, upon the earnings of the poor; because I have never in any way been, nor ever would be, linked on to either of those factions; because I have fairly, manfully, and openly stood up for the political rights of my poorer fellow countrymen, and never for one moment of my life have compromised those rights, in order to secure or promote my own interest.

I repeat again, that I have not introduced the subject of the old cow with any invidious motive. As far as the thing went it was a praiseworthy and charitable act. I have myself many times done the same thing; have fatted an old cow, and given the beef away to the poor, which has been worth, to them, from ten to fifteen pounds; very excellent meat to eat, and I have partaken of some of it in my own family; though it would have scarcely fetched any thing to have been sold to a butcher. And if this should meet the eye of the worthy justice, he will take it as it is meant, and not as any sarcasm at him, though the said justice is one of the number who was induced to sign the infamous order to exclude my female friends from visiting me; which I would fain hope he did against his own judgment, and I am sure, from the personal kindness I before received of him here, he did it much against his inclination. Some may say that my statement, of what I have done, is an egotistical digression; that I am sounding my own trumpet; and that to do so is no proof of a truly charitable disposition; but let them recollect that I am compelled to this digression, in order to do justice to my own calumniated character; let them recollect that I am writing my own history, and that, as all the press of Europe has been sedulously and malignantly employed to prejudice the public against me, I owe it to myself, to my children and family, to the myriads of my fellow countrymen who have honoured me with their confidence; I owe it to them, to show, past all contradiction, that my accusers are slanderers; that my conduct deserves to be otherwise spoken of than it has been; and this duty I can perform only by speaking candidly and boldly of such facts as may tell in my favour; facts, be it remembered, which admit of being proved or disproved by thousands of living witnesses. I make no assertions which are morally or physically incapable of being refuted; I appeal to evidence, which is still in existence; and if my enemies can convict one of having, in my defence, gone beyond the limits of truth, I will be content, ever after, to listen in silence to their calumnies.

But it is now time to change the scene again to the King's Bench. I was there every day in the society of men who had not merely mixed in the busy scenes of the metropolis, but of whom I found that many had been connected with the government; many had borne a part in all the dirty tricks, frauds, perjuries, and bribery practised at elections. Of such abominations as I did not think it possible ever to have occurred, the reality was clearly proved to me, by those who had been eye witnesses of them, and who had participated in the plunder. Circumstances brought me into strange company, and here I saw men of all persuasions in religion, and of all parties in politics.

The year 1800 was a very busy year, and the price of provisions was at its height, in consequence of which, there were many riots both in London and the country. The parliamentary remedy for this evil was, an act, passed on the 12th of February, forbidding the sale of bread till four and twenty hours after it had been baked.

Towards the close of 1799, Buonaparte became the first consul of France, and he immediately wrote a letter himself to the King of England, offering to treat for peace. The British ministers, however, treated the offer with contempt, and they were sanctioned in their conduct by the legislative bodies. Oh, fatal policy! if this offer had been accepted, millions of lives might have been spared—oceans of blood and hundreds of millions of money might have been saved to the nation. Mr. Fox and Mr. Whitbread opposed the address in the House of Commons, but it was carried by 265 against 64. High debates and strong divisions took place in the Irish House of Commons, upon the Union, when Lord Castlereagh began to make a figure by his intrigues; British gold prevailed over Irish patriotism, and the majorities were in favour of the Union. Mr. Waithman now first began to figure upon the stage of politics in London, and a motion which he made, in favour of peace, was carried unanimously at a Common Hall. The House of Commons, on the motion of Mr. Tierney, divided 44 for peace and 143 for war; this was on the twenty-sixth of February, and on the eleventh of May, at a field-day in Hyde Park, a shot wounded a young gentleman, who stood near the King, for whom no doubt it was intended. The same evening his Majesty was at Drury Lane theatre, when a man in the pit, whose name was Hatfield, standing up on one of the benches, fired a pistol at him; but he was pronounced to be deranged in his intellects, and he was confined accordingly.

All our magnanimous allies had by this time deserted us, with the exception of the Emperor of Germany, whose friendship was purchased by another loan of two millions of money, to be raised in taxes upon John Bull; or, to apply a more appropriate name, John Gull—for, so zealous were his faithful representatives in the Commons, that they voted away forty-eight millions for the service of the year; and to prevent, or rather silence any grumbling, the Habeas Corpus suspension act was passed.

On the fourteenth of June, the great battle of Marengo was fought, between the French, who were commanded by Buonaparte, and the Austrians under Melas, whose army he completely defeated, killing six thousand of them, and taking twelve thousand prisoners, and forty-five pieces of cannon. In this battle Napoleon proved himself not only the bravest, but the best general of the age. Immediately after this battle an armistice followed, and peace was ultimately concluded between France and Austria.

On the eighteenth of this month, July 1800, the atrocities of Governor Aris, and his abettors, in Cold Bath Field's prison, were exposed in the House of Commons, by Sir Francis Burdett; and on the fourteenth of August following, the indignant populace assembled to pull down this prison, which they very properly called the English Bastile. The conduct of Aris was such that he was driven in disgrace from his situation, and another more humane governor was appointed in his place, in order to tranquillize the people, who were justly enraged almost to desperation against this monster. What a disgrace, not only to the administration of the country, but to the character of the age to suffer a malignant fiend to have the control over the liberties of persons sentenced to be confined in a prison! How much have those magistrates and sheriffs to answer for who suffer these devils in human shape to tyrannize over and torture the victims consigned to their custody! How necessary is it for sheriffs (high sheriffs I mean), to visit their prisons in person, and see in what manner their prisoners are treated! I do not mean a formal visit, when the gaoler has notice of his coming, that he may be prepared to deceive him. But I say it is the duty of a sheriff to go unawares, at times when he is not expected, and then to visit the prisoners by himself, taking care that those jacks in office, the turnkeys, do not go before him, to prepare the prisoners, and to caution them not to make any complaints. What a farce is kept up by the parade of visiting magistrates, who pass through a gaol, for instance, once a month, "like a cat over a harpsichord;" inquiring, most likely, in the presence of the gaoler or turnkey, if any of the prisoners have any complaint to make to the magistrates! Oh what a horrible farce is this. A planter in the West Indies may just as well expect to hear the truth if he were to enquire of the negroes, in the presence of their drivers, whether any of them have a complaint to make against any of the said negro-drivers!

When I first came to this gaol, one of the poor prisoners, who was assisting to repair my dungeon, was telling me of an act of cruel injustice and torture that had been inflicted upon him by one of the turnkeys. Upon which I said to the man, "Did you not make a complaint to the magistrates? I am sure they would not suffer a prisoner to be treated in such a way with impunity." The poor fellow looked at me very steadfastly, for some time, to see if I were in earnest; at length he replied, "Lord, Sir! you will know better after you have been here a little while. I have been here nearly two years, and I never knew any prisoner make a complaint even to the gaoler, and much less to the magistrate, without being punished for it. I never knew a man make a complaint who was not locked up, in solitary confinement, within a week afterwards, for something or other. A prisoner is sure never to get any redress, for the turnkeys will say any thing, and what one says another will swear; and the gaoler always believes them, or pretends to believe them, in preference to the prisoners; so do what they will with us we never complain."

I am sorry to say that I have found that there was too much truth in this assertion. I know it is the practice of some lords of manors, never to hire a gamekeeper unless he will engage always to swear that which, right or wrong, will convict a poacher: and I now believe that it is also a requisite qualification for a turnkey to swear that which will please the gaoler. I am quite sure it is the case in some gaols, in which, unless a turnkey will do this, he will never get promotion, or a rise in his salary, nor have his rent paid, &c. &c. The principal object of these fraternities appears to be deception; and particularly if a magistrate or a sheriff should be a conscientious, humane man, their study, their occupation is to deceive him, in which they are very likely to succeed; for a clever gaoler, surrounded by such pliant helpmates, will deceive the very devil, if he be not aware of their tricks; and how easily then may they cheat an honest, unsuspecting country justice! I have been led into this excusable digression from the recollection of Aris's exposure in the House of Commons; and what a tale shall I have by and by to unfold, of the scenes that are perpetrated with impunity in this gaol. Some of the most atrocious acts are here made a merit of, and the gaoler even boasts of them in the public-houses, amongst his pot-companions.

To return to my narrative. On the 3d of October, the Common Hall, on the motion of Mr. Waithman, resolved to present an address to the King upon the throne, for peace; but, for the first time, the King refused to receive it, except at the levee. Thus were the livery of London deprived of their right, their ancient right, of approaching their sovereign to present their petitions to the throne. Thus were all future Common Halls reduced to the level of any common assembly by George the Third. Thus did those who took the lead in city politics concede the rights of their fellow-citizens, and surrender their proudest privileges, without a struggle. From that day to this, the Livery of London have never exercised their constitutional privilege of addressing or petitioning the throne. Mr. Waithman and Mr. Favel have persuaded the livery not to petition the throne, because they were not permitted to present it to the throne: unlike Beckford, they had neither the courage to demand the right, nor the sincerity to give it up. By such temporising means they have altogether compromised the rights of their fellow citizens. I made one effort to rouse the livery into a sense of their duty, and moved for the appointment of a committee to search for precedents; but the Whig cabal frustrated my intentions, though I was supported by Mr. White, of the Independent Whig, and many other patriotic members of that body. By and by, I shall lay open to public view the despicable intrigues of this faction in the city of London. The mass of the livery are honest, honourable and patriotic, and real lovers of fair play; but the tricks and intrigues of the factions, who have strutted upon the boards of the Common Hall for the last twenty years, are without parallel; and, when I come to that epoch of my history at which I became a liveryman, it shall be my business to unmask many a hypocrite, and to exhibit these mock reformers in their true colours. In performing this duty I shall divest myself of every personal consideration; and in drawing the true characters of the great rivals, Wood and Waithman, I will, if possible, divest myself of prejudice, and do them both justice. The result of the last general election for the city not only speaks the sense of the livery, but it is a pretty fair criterion by which the public may estimate the value of each of these characters. The inestimable conduct of Mr. Alderman Wood, with regard to the affairs of the Queen, has placed him upon that eminence to which his honesty and public spirit so eminently entitle him.

On the third of November, the Emperor Paul of Russia laid an embargo on three hundred British ships, and sequestered all British property in the ports of Russia. Thus he who, at the commencement of the year, was our most vigorous and magnanimous ally, became, at the latter end of it, one of our most powerful and inveterate foes. British gold and British influence could, however, now command the use of the bow-string in Russia, as it had heretofore directed the use of the guillotine in France; for, on the 23d of March, he was found murdered in his chamber, and his amiable and ingenuous son, Alexander, the present tyrant, succeeded him, he being understood to be better disposed to listen to the proposals of the Cabinet of St. James's.

On the last day of this year, the Union was completed between England and Ireland, and the degradation of that brave and high spirited people was celebrated in London, on the first day of the nineteenth century, by hoisting a standard upon the Tower, and an imperial ensign was displayed by the foot guards. A new great seal was also used on account of the Union. The Imperial Parliament also met on the first day of the year, and commenced its first session.

The commencement of the new century had been celebrated the year before, on the first day of the year 1800; but it was now discovered, by the wisdom of John Gull, that the new century did not commence till the old one was finished, and therefore millions, who had before celebrated it, now performed the ceremony over again. I was then, as I now am, in a gaol, but I was in a very different gaol from this. When St. Paul's clock struck twelve, all the bells in the metropolis struck up a merry peal. I had sat up later than it was my custom, on purpose to welcome in the new year; and as Mr. Waddington was retired to rest, I had called up Filewood, the turnkey of the lobby of the King's Bench, and had treated him with a glass of grog and a pipe. Twenty years ago, at this very hour of twelve, I was smoking my pipe in a gaol. Gracious God! the scenes that I have since witnessed, how they crowd upon my memory! The recollection of that night is as familiar to my imagination as if it were yesterday. I was in a prison to be sure, but I had every accommodation that was necessary; all my friends had free access to me, from daylight till ten o'clock at night; and my family might have remained with me the whole time, day and night, if I had chosen that they should do so. I was never locked into my room, and I could at all times pass into the yard, and was within call of the turnkey and his family; and the communication to my friend Mr. Waddington's apartments was always open. In fact, it would have been truly ridiculous had it been otherwise. The same apartments which I inhabited had been previously occupied by Mr. Horne Tooke, Lord Thanet, and many other eminent political men who had fallen into the clutches of the harpies of the bar and the bench; and never did the slightest inconvenience arise to the marshal, or any of his officers, in consequence of treating such prisoners committed to his custody with that sort of consideration which made them easy and contented under unpleasant circumstances. Such liberal treatment always produced a corresponding feeling and action in the prisoners, and I never heard of any instance of disagreement between them. I know that, in our case, so far from any complaint being made on either side, Mr. Waddington, myself, and the marshal always continued, and we parted, upon the best terms, mutually satisfied with each other. But what a contrast was that to my present situation in this gaol, one of the most confined, unhealthy, and inconvenient gaols in the kingdom! Since the high sheriff came to my relief, my confinement is considerably softened, particularly by the admission of the female branches of my family: but the contrast is yet such as to beggar description. In the first place, I am shut up in a complete dungeon; it is true, I have a window, but that is rendered almost useless by its opening into a small yard, of about ten yards square, surrounded entirely by a dark wall, nearly twenty feet high. This being situated on the north side of a very high building, both light and air are excluded. I have not caught a glimpse of the sun from this yard or room, since October. In the next place, no friend or any other person is admitted till nine in the morning, and not after four in the afternoon; so that my family, who, in consequence of Sir Charles Bampfylde's interference, are now permitted to see me, are yet compelled to submit to the inconvenience and expense of passing seventeen hours out of the four and twenty at the inn, to be enabled to see me for the remaining seven. At six o'clock in the afternoon I am locked up in solitary confinement, in my room, (some time back it was at five); all the outward doors surrounding my burying vault of a yard are also closed for the night; and, as my dungeon is situated in a remote part of the gaol, I never hear the sound of a human voice till the door of my cage is opened, at seven o'clock in the morning; so that, for thirteen hours, I have no possibility of making any one hear, let what might happen, either from illness or accident; a month back it was fifteen hours, from five till eight. To remove this unpleasant and brutal inconvenience, a worthy and considerate visiting magistrate, Aaron Moody, Esq. of Kingston, very properly ordered, amongst many other necessary improvements of my den, that a bell should be hung, to enable me to call one of the officers of the gaol, when I might want any thing; but I am now deprived of this common and necessary accommodation by the order of Mr. Gaoler, who forsooth has caused the bell to be muffled, and the wire pegged, so as to render it totally useless. The reader must find it difficult to discover the motives for this and a hundred other daily acts of petty tyranny that are practised upon me here; and, to render this conduct the more pointed, unjust, and odious, the bell which was hung at the same time, and for the same purpose, in the room of my fellow-prisoner, Mr. Kinnear, remains untouched, for his constant use and convenience. And yet I understand my gentleman gaoler complains of what he calls my attacks upon him, although he cannot deny the truth of one of my statements.

From the comparison which I have drawn, the reader will perceive, that one month's imprisonment in this bastile, is worse than a year's imprisonment in the King's Bench. In the King's Bench I enjoyed the rational society of all my friends, and I was particularly pleased with the society of Mr. Clifford. I have since suffered many great inconveniences and disappointments, which I might have avoided, if I had given credit to some of his statements, which, at the time, I thought totally impossible to be correct, but which I have since, by experience, and to my cost and sorrow, found to be true to the very letter. I was induced by him to believe many of the infamous acts attributed to the ministers and their agents, and the cruelties practised by their tools and myrmidons; but it was not possible for me to give full credence to many of the stories and anecdotes which he recounted of the Judges upon the bench, in connivance with the gentlemen at the bar. It was difficult to make me comprehend and credit, the infamous and disgraceful practice of the masters of the crown office, in procuring and packing a special jury, which he assured me was constantly and invariably done in every political cause, where the crown was the prosecutor; but he brought me so many proofs, that, at length, it was worse than self-deception to doubt it. But that the Judges upon the Bench, in violation of their solemn oaths, would lend themselves to delay, to deny, or sell justice, was a crime which I could not be persuaded to imagine was within the verge of possibility, though he solemnly assured me that all this was not only done, but that it was the every day practice, particularly in political matters. To think that, upon the ex-parte statement of one of the counsel, a Judge would submit to make himself acquainted with the case before he came into court; to think that a Judge could be spoken with privately, upon a cause that he was going to try openly in public court, that he would be influenced by unworthy motives, or take a bribe, was so abhorrent to every notion of justice that I had imbibed, it was to me so horrible, that I could scarcely listen with any degree of temper to his recital of numerous instances of the kind, which, he assured us, had come within his own knowledge.

If I could have had the wisdom to have listened and have improved from the excellent information that I gained from Mr. Clifford, how many painful and useless exertions I might have saved myself, how many difficulties might I have avoided! But it was not in my nature to believe such things, or to think mankind, and particularly the Judges of the land, such hypocrites, or such base tools as he represented them to be. And such is the natural feeling and habits of an Englishman, that he imbibes the notion of reverence for the Judges of the land at a very early period. We are taught this almost as early as we are taught the Lord's prayer, and it is nearly as easy to eradicate the one, as the other, such is the effect of early impressions. Poor Clifford! how often have I heard him exclaim, "of all tyrannies, that which is carried on under the forms of law and justice is the worst." How well he understood the practice of the courts, and the trickery of the Judges; every word he ever communicated to me upon this subject I now believe to be true, my own experience has since confirmed it. He gave us the history, a full account, of the treatment of those persons who were confined in dungeons for political purposes under the suspension of the Habeas Corpus act; and amongst others he described the cruel and unnatural treatment of poor Colonel Despard, who was then confined in the Tower, and who had been imprisoned at that time for five or six years. Mr. Clifford was employed by Colonel Despard, and offered to convince me that his description of his treatment was correct, by introducing me to him any morning that I would accompany him to the Tower; which I promised to do the first opportunity, and a day was fixed accordingly for the interview.

I received frequent communications from home to say that all my large farming concerns were going on well, in fact those were glorious times for farmers; the price of corn and all sorts of agricultural produce was enormous, and as I had grown most excellent crops that season, my profits were very ample. My bailiff wrote me word, that he continued to obtain the highest price in Devizes market for my corn, both for wheat and barley, and one week he sold wheat for five guineas a sack, and barley for five pounds a quarter. This was once thrown in my face by an upstart of the name of Captain Gee, when I was standing a contested election at Bristol. The gentleman put the question to me upon the hustings, whether I had not, or whether my father had not, sold his wheat for fifty pounds a load in Marlborough market? I was saved the trouble of an answer by the observation of a sensible, shrewd mechanic, a freeman of that city; who said, "Well, and suppose he did, what has that to do with the merit or demerit of a representative who is contending for our rights and liberties? Was Mr. Hunt not justified in selling his corn for the best price that he could obtain for it? It is only a proof that he had a good article to get a good price for it. Suppose that he had sold his wheat for five pounds a load, while other people were selling it at fifty pounds a load, do you mean to tell us, that we here in Bristol, should have got our flour or our bread any the cheaper for it?" The captain was silent, and my apologist continued, "Do you believe, sir, if Mr. Hunt had given away his corn, that the millers or the bakers would have sold it to us any the cheaper? then let us have no more of your nonsense; what would you have said if your old uncle, the tobacconist, had sold his tobacco for one shilling a pound while other people were selling it at three shillings a pound?" As his scheme did not answer, the captain slunk away and asked no more questions. I always felt great pride in obtaining the highest price for my corn; because it was a sure proof, that I carried the best corn to the market, and the farmer who grows the greatest quantity of, and the finest, corn, not only benefits himself, but, instead of being an enemy to the poor, he is their best friend, as he contributes the largest share to the common stock of provisions for their support.

My family meanwhile remained at home, it not being deemed advisable, under such circumstances, to remove them to London, for so short a time as six weeks. Mrs. Hunt had to take care of an infant son, now about four months old, and, besides, I had no one but her to depend upon, to manage the domestic concerns of so large an establishment as I then kept up, and which was absolutely necessary for so large a farming business as I carried on. Every thing, however, went on smoothly and prosperously; and I had no lack of visitors, who were very numerous, both from London and the country, and perhaps no nobleman in London was better supplied with game than I was. I received daily presents from all quarters, particularly from the members of the yeomanry cavalry, not only of the county of Wilts, but from various other counties.

Though the whole body of the yeomanry considered themselves insulted in my person, yet the boasted resolution of those members of the Wiltshire yeomanry, who had declared that they would resign if I had any punishment inflicted upon me, was never carried into effect, with one solitary exception, which was that of my friend Mr. Wm. Butcher, who wrote from London, the day after my sentence, and sent in his resignation, assigning openly as the cause, that he would not continue in a service in which he was liable to be insulted with impunity, by the caprice of a superior officer, or liable to be prosecuted, if he resented a wanton insult with the spirit of a man of honour and a gentleman. But Wm. Tinker of Lavington, who had so often volunteered to resent what he called an insult offered to every man in the regiment, never resigned, or mentioned the subject afterward; and he, amongst all my numerous friends, was the only one who failed to send me some game, though he was a great sportsman, and did me the favour to hunt and shoot over my farms in my absence.

Unlike some other gaolers, the marshal of the King's Bench was not above his business; he never for a moment neglected his duty to the prisoners. He did not act, as if he felt it to be his only business to tyrannize over, to harrass, to oppress, to punish, and to torture those unfortunate persons who were committed to his custody. On the contrary, he took especial care to protect his prisoners from insult, imposition, or cruelty. Instead of employing his time to devise means of annoyance against those who were placed in his custody, he occupied it in a very different manner. He knew that it was his duty (and he acted up to the letter and spirit of it) to take every means in his power to make each prisoner as comfortable as his situation would admit, and, above all, to shield him from any insult or ill treatment from the officers of the prison; and to take care that the prisoners were not imposed upon by those who served them with provisions and necessaries. He made a point of going frequently into the prison during market time, and if he found any bad meat, butter, or other provisions, brought into the prison, he would, for example sake, have it seized and destroyed; and he frequently, without previous notice, went round with his officers to examine the weights and measures, so that his prisoners were completely guarded from imposition and extortion; and a man in the King's Bench prison could lay out the little money he had to spend, to as much advantage as he could in any market in the kingdom. In fact, Mr. Jones, the marshal, was a humane as well as a charitable man, and he encouraged the prisoners to make excellent and just regulations for their own government; but the refractory, those who would not be governed by the rules of well regulated society, and who violated all moral obligations, were made to feel the weight of his power. He was a magistrate of the county of Surrey, it, therefore, was not necessary for him to perform the farce of sending for a visiting magistrate. Any ungovernable delinquent was brought before him, and after a fair hearing, if it appeared upon oath that he merited it, he was committed for a month to Horsemonger Lane prison, or sentenced to be confined in the refractory room. I do not remember a single instance of any one being punished by him unjustly. When it was necessary for the marshal to use severity against any man, it generally had the sanction of an immense majority of that man's fellow-prisoners. The only one that was punished, during the six weeks that I was there, was a drunken captain, who, in one of his paroxysms, had smashed all the chapel windows, and committed several other depredations upon the property of his fellow prisoners. He was put into the strong room till the next day, when he was brought up, and after an open and patient hearing, it being found that he had nothing to urge in his defence except drunkenness, he was sent to Horsemonger Lane for a month. No secret inflictions, no acts of torture were permitted in this gaol. Punishment, when requisite, was given openly, and fairly, and consistently with the true principles of justice, and every one knew what measure of it was meted out to the offender. As there are frequently a great number of profligate characters within the walls, it was highly necessary to have some good rules and regulations, some local laws, to protect the well-disposed, the innocent, and the unfortunate, (of whom there was always a great number) from the insults and depredations of such abandoned persons. These local laws, though they were administered with strict justice by Mr. Jones, yet, as far as my own observation enabled me to judge, they were invariably tempered with mercy. There were frequently six or seven, and sometimes eight hundred prisoners within the walls, and the marshal had a great responsibility upon his hands, yet every thing was conducted with liberality. He had extensive power, yet I never saw any man exercise power with more discretion and moderation than he did.

The reader will recollect that this is my opinion now, my confirmed opinion at this period, after having been three times committed to his custody by the Honourable Court of King's Bench. A second time, for having given a good thrashing to a ruffian who was hired to assault me as I was riding along the high road, and who was proved to have actually assaulted me first. The Judge, Baron Graham, upon the trial at Salisbury, instructed the jury to find me guilty of an assault, though he admitted it to be clearly proved that the fellow had committed the first assault. His argument, if so it may be called, was, that I had given him more than an equivalent beating in return: had I, he said, only struck him once, I should have been justified; but, as I had struck him three times with my fist, it was an assault; and for this I was sentenced to three months to the custody of the marshal. But it will be recollected that I was then become a political character, and had been the means of calling two meetings for the county of Wilts. The third time was preparatory to my visit here—but more of these things at the proper period.

While I was in the King's Bench, many anecdotes came to my knowledge, relating to certain political characters, which it would be neither just nor prudent to mention here, and indeed it might justly be considered a breach of confidence. I must, therefore, withhold the publication of them till I have the permission of those who communicated them to me. There were also numerous most important matters, communicated to me by Mr. Henry Clifford, with whom, as the reader has already been told, I soon became closely intimate, which I do not feel justified in promulgating, as they are of an extraordinary character, and would be scarcely credited, the parties not being alive either to contradict or to confirm them.

Henry Clifford was a most intelligent man, and Doctor Gabriel was likewise an intelligent man; and these two individuals gave me a clear insight into the practice of the persons who were concerned in the courts of law, and the church. I was not more astonished at the trickery, deception, and complete delusion of the former profession, than I was at the cant and hypocrisy of the latter. I soon became a disciple of Clifford's, yet so astonished was I with his account of the mummery of the courts, and the farcical deception of what was called the administration of justice, particularly in all political matters, that I really looked with such astonishment, and sometimes with such a suspicious and unbelieving eye, that he frequently thought it necessary to bring me living proof, and incontrovertible demonstration, of the truth of his assertions; nor was it till he had done so, that he could bring me to acknowledge that I was convinced of their correctness. To the doctrine so unequivocally maintained by the worthy dignitary of the church, Dr. Gabriel, I became a convert with even still more tardiness.

Mr. Waddington was an intelligent man, and he had seen a great deal of the world. As a citizen of London, he had called a public meeting, at the Paul's Head Tavern, to petition for peace; and this public-spirited and truly constitutional act was at that period quite sufficient to draw down the vengeance of Pitt and his myrmidons. His ruin was decided upon by them, and he was handed over to the care of the minister's pliant, powerful and dangerous tools, the Judges of the then Court of King's Bench, the chief performer being Lloyd Lord Kenyon. Mr. Clifford assured me, that which was afterwards proved in the same court, that there was neither law nor justice in Mr. Waddington's persecution; but that the minister had determined to destroy him for his decisive opposition to his measures in the city; and he had not the least doubt but they would accomplish the ruin of his fortune, though he was then worth one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. It will be shewn hereafter how completely this prediction was verified.

One morning, while we were at breakfast, Mr. Filewood came in, and told us that two very elegant ladies were brought into the prison for debt, and that they were in the greatest distress, as they appeared to be deserted by all their friends, and had scarcely money sufficient to procure the common necessaries of life. This was quite sufficient to induce Mr. Waddington and myself to interest ourselves in their behalf, and we made the necessary inquiries, in which we were assisted with great alacrity by the officers of the gaol, and we learned that the parties were, a gentlewoman and her daughter; the mother being arrested for a considerable sum, and being sent into the gaol, the daughter had accompanied her. A polite letter, tendering our humble aid, was sent to the ladies, accompanied with an invitation to dinner. This invitation was accepted, but a difficulty arose, as we were without the walls, and the ladies were within, which appeared at first view to be an insurmountable obstacle to their visiting us; for, although we could pass into the prison, yet no prisoner within the walls could pass out, unless by a day-rule in term time, or the special permission of the marshal, which no one expected to obtain without giving sufficient security. I, nevertheless, determined to apply to the marshal, as we were not to be driven, without an effort, from the pleasure of doing a kind action after we had once made up our minds to it. We knew the character of the marshal to be that of a gentleman, and as I felt no dread at the idea of placing myself under an obligation to such a man, I, without further ceremony, waited upon him, and communicated the circumstances and our wishes upon the subject. Without the slightest hesitation he granted my request, and having called his deputy, he demanded the reason why he had not been made acquainted with the situation of the ladies who had been brought in the night before, and he called for the books to know who the lady was, and what sum she was in for. It was found that her name was M——e, and that she was detained for three hundred pounds. I immediately offered to the marshal to become security for the sum, if he had any difficulty about it. His only answer was, "Your word, Mr. Hunt, is quite sufficient;" and turning to the officer, he said, "Recollect, sir, that Mrs. M——e and her daughter have free access to Mr. Hunt's and Mr. Waddington's apartments, to dine, drink tea, and spend the evening whenever they please to invite them; and take care also that they have a good room provided for them, if they have not already got such within the walls." Thus it was at all times with this worthy man. I never knew him interpose to prevent an act of kindness or of charity to a prisoner; but, on the contrary, he was always ready to promote their comfort, and willing to assist in relieving the distresses of those who were in affliction.

Mrs. M—— and her daughter arrived at the hour appointed. She was a tall, elegant figure, apparently upwards of fifty, and her face, though clouded by misfortune, bore evident traces of no common beauty. Her manners and address were at once graceful, dignified, and unembarrassed. Her daughter was a pretty little interesting girl of eighteen, and, though she was very accomplished, yet it was easy to discover that she had not received that highly refined education, nor enjoyed those advantages which can only be acquired by associating with persons who have moved in the first circles of fashionable society; all which advantages her mother evidently possessed in a very eminent degree. Mrs. M—— appeared to be well acquainted with Mr. Pitt, Mr. Dundas, and some of the royal family; but as the conversation turned upon general subjects, we did not enter into any further particulars on the first visit. We confined ourselves to making arrangements for the future comfort of the ladies, while they remained within the walls, and this object, Mr. Waddington and myself, with the cheerful cooperation of the marshal, easily contrived to promote.

After a visit or two I became enthusiastically interested in the fate of Mrs. M——. I discovered that she had moved a great deal in the higher circles, and was particularly well acquainted with the ministers of the crown, and a certain great personage. As she saw that she had excited, if not an interest, at least a great curiosity in my breast, she told me that she was the natural daughter of the late, the great, Marquis of G——, and that, as her's had been a most eventful life, she would relate to me some very extraordinary incidents in it, if I would favour her with an interview some morning. This was readily assented to, and our meeting was fixed for the following day. Her history was briefly as follows:—she had been brought up by the Marquis of G——, and educated by him, with great care and tenderness. She married young, and was an early widow. After the death of her husband, she fell a victim to the seductive powers of old Harry D——s, and became his mistress, which she continued to be for many years. During that time she had an opportunity of seeing a great deal of Mr. Pitt, of whom and his associates she told me a vast number of anecdotes, which will not do to mention here. Her old paramour at length became tired of her, and a very extraordinary event led to an opportunity of shifting her off his hands, without the inconvenience of making her a settlement. A certain great personage was at that time labouring under a distressing malady. The physicians in attendance came to the conclusion, that it was necessary that their patient should have a female attendant during the night; and the finding of a proper person for the occasion was the only obstacle which interposed to prevent their carrying their wish into effect. Old Harry D——s proposed to obviate this difficulty, by making a sacrifice, as he pretended, of his favourite mistress, upon condition that an annuity of four hundred pounds should be settled upon her. This proposal was immediately accepted, and the terms were acceded to by the family of the afflicted personage. Though the wary old Scotchman was delighted to get rid of his mistress upon such advantageous terms for himself, or rather to drive such an excellent bargain, yet he all the time professed that he was making the greatest sacrifice in the world, and doing the greatest violence to his feelings, by parting with a beloved object; a sacrifice which he was induced to make solely from the love and veneration which he bore to his afflicted master. She assured us of her belief that, by these means, he obtained the greatest favours and the most splendid reward, while she, for the sum of four hundred a year, consented to submit to the embraces of a madman.

The patient recovered, and she was turned adrift, without her salary being regularly paid. She had contracted a debt of three hundred pounds, for which she was sent to the King's Bench prison, though she convinced me, by documents that she produced, that she had at the time seven quarters of her salary, seven hundred pounds, due to her from the said great personage; less than half of which would have saved her from a gaol.

This circumstance, however extraordinary it may appear, was not only confirmed by very credible witnesses, but also by most indisputable documentary proof; and, as a confirmation of its correctness, Mr. Dundas, who was subsequently Lord Melville, a few days afterwards came in person to bail her into the rules, which I sincerely believe that he never would have done, if he had not heard of the company that she had fallen into. Mrs. M—— and her daughter were at dinner with Mr. Waddington and myself, when Mr. Dundas sent for her out; but we made him wait till she had finished her dinner, declaring that we would be her bail, rather than she should submit to receive a favour from such an unnatural being. This lady gave me a history of the then court, and she was familiar with extraordinary anecdotes relating to most of the persons connected with the ministers as well as the royal family. The recital of so much infamy and intrigue, when coupled with what I had heard from Mr. Clifford, of the practices of the law and the courts of justice, and from Dr. Gabriel, with respect to the debaucheries of the most dignified members of the church, and the hypocrisy of many of its puritanical preachers, really made me almost believe that I was got into a new world, and that the men and women of which it was composed were a different species from those with whom I had been in the habit of associating; in fact it opened to my view such scenes of villainy, fraud, hypocrisy, and injustice, practised upon mankind by those who contrived to govern them by what is called religion and law, that I involuntarily re-echoed, with an exclamation, the sentiments of Mr. Clifford, and pronounced aloud, "That there is no tyranny so infamous as that which is carried on under the forms of law and justice."

I had here an opportunity of meeting men of talent and men of experience, and particularly some eminent men of the law, who, although they were not public characters, like Mr. Clifford, and therefore did not promulgate their sentiments so publicly as he did, yet all admitted the truth of his description of the state of the courts of law; and my Lord Kenyon was spoken of with great freedom, and his decisions were canvassed with very little ceremony.

I have already mentioned, that Colonel Despard was confined in the Tower, by the Secretary of State, Lord Hobart, in virtue of the suspension of the Habeas Corpus act, and that Mr. Clifford had promised that he would take me to the Tower, and introduce me to the colonel. The day having at length arrived for the performance of his promise, Clifford called on me, and we walked together to London Bridge, where we took a boat to Tower stairs.

After entering our names in the book, which has been invariably the practice at the Tower, we were admitted to the apartment of Colonel Despard. He was a mild gentleman-like man.

Mr. Clifford introduced me by name, as a country friend of his, and the colonel received me with great courtesy and politeness. During our stay he inveighed with some warmth against the injustice of his treatment, and the protracted length of his imprisonment, which he said, I think, was then nearly six years. Two beef-eaters were always in the room with him, when any person was admitted, and they never left the room, even when his wife came to see him; but, as far as was in their power, consistent with the orders which they had received, and were obliged to obey, they conducted themselves with great propriety and civility toward the colonel and his friends. He laughed heartily at the idea of a visit from me, who was at the time a prisoner in the King's Bench, and Clifford surprised him when he said, that I had entered my name "Mr. Henry Hunt, King's Bench," which I had done.

To shew me the stile in which the procession accompanied the prisoner, Mr. Clifford proposed a walk upon the terrace. He had described this ceremony to me, and it appeared so preposterous, that he saw I looked doubtful as to whether I should believe him to be serious. When he observed that I looked suspicious, he always took uncommon pains to convince me by some unequivocal proof, and this was his motive for proposing a walk. A guard of soldiers was called, and the procession was as follows:—One of the beef-eaters walked first, with his sword drawn; then followed two soldiers, carrying arms, with their bayonets fixed; then came Colonel Despard, with Mr. Clifford and myself, one on each side of him; immediately behind us marched two more soldiers, carrying arms, with fixed bayonets; and another beef-eater, with a drawn sword, brought up the rear. In this manner we walked the parade or terrace for about half an hour, taking care to speak loud, so that the whole of our conversation was heard by the beef-eaters. After our walk we sat with him a short time, and then took our leave.

Anxious to hear something more of the particulars relating to the confinement of the colonel, I called a coach, and ordered the coachman to put us down at the King's Bench, where Mr. Clifford had engaged to dine with us. As we rode along, I began to ply my companion, to inform me what desperate offence Colonel Despard had committed, which called for such rigorous treatment. His answer was this—"He served the government faithfully and zealously, as a soldier; he advanced money for them upon some foreign station; but the government was ungrateful and ungenerous to him, and in consequence of some quibble, they have refused to repay him what he advanced on their account. He complained and remonstrated, he became importunate for justice, he was considered troublesome, and for complaining they have sent him to prison, under the suspension of the Habeas Corpus act, as the only effectual means of answering his just complaints." "And can it be possible," I asked, "that justice will not in the end be done to this unfortunate gentleman?" "Depend upon it," replied Clifford, "he is too honest ever to gain redress. If he would crouch and truckle to his persecutors, he might not only be set at liberty, but all that they have robbed him of would be returned. This, however, he never will do. He, poor fellow! expects that when the operation of the Habeas Corpus act is restored, he will be able to bring his cruel persecutors to justice; but he will be deceived! He is marked out for one of that monster, Pitt's, victims. When he comes out, which will be when the suspension act expires, and not before, I know that he will demand to be put upon his trial. But the ministers, who have always a corrupt majority at their beck, will easily procure an act of indemnity; and as they have nothing to charge him with, they will refuse to give him a trial, and they will laugh at him. And this is the boasted freedom of the people of England! This is the way in which the ministers serve those who oppose them! These are the methods they take, first to punish, and then to drive their opponents into violence and into acts of desperation!!! I know that he will complain, and that he has just cause of complaint, and I dread the consequence, because I know full well their arts, and the power which they have to carry their diabolical plans into execution. If he be troublesome, they will stick at nothing, and I should not be the least surprised if they were ultimately to have some of their spies to swear away his life!"

Gracious God! I little thought how prophetic these words were. Was this really the case, Mr. Justice Best? you were his counsel upon his trial; you must know if this were really the case!!! But more of this hereafter. After the death of poor Despard, Clifford and myself never met that I did not recall to his recollection, the prophetic conversation that took place in the coach, as we passed over London Bridge, and up the Borough, on our return from the Tower.

All the particulars of the trial and the execution of Colonel Despard are fresh in my memory; but I shall be much obliged to some friend, who may chance to read this, to send me the Trial itself, through my publisher, Mr. Dolby. I shall also be much pleased, if some one will furnish me with the names of those persons who were waiting in readiness to come forward and prove that the witnesses, who swore to the facts against the colonel, were persons of the most infamous character, and not worthy to believed upon their oaths; which persons were neglected to be called by Mr. Sergeant Best. Clifford told me their names often, but they do not occur to me now; therefore I shall be obliged to some one to furnish me with the particulars.

When we got back to the King's Bench, we were informed, by Mr. Waddington, that there had been a great inquiry for me in my absence, as some friends out of the country had been to visit me, and had, foolishly enough, made much stir in the King's Bench in their endeavour to find me. Mr. Waddington, however, having learned what was going on, satisfied their inquiries so far as to induce them to be quiet, and promise to call the next day. Some of my readers will be surprised that a prisoner should have been from home! But the fact was, that I was committed to the custody of the Marshal of the Court for six weeks, and I had given him ample security for being at all times ready to appear, in case he should be called upon to produce his prisoner. They were not then so particular as they now are.

The visit to the Tower made a lasting impression upon my mind, and, after what I had witnessed, I was easily persuaded by Mr. Clifford that the account which he gave me of the treatment of other prisoners confined under the suspension of the Habeas Corpus act, was perfectly true. These horrible facts created in my breast a deep-rooted never-ceasing antipathy to that tyranny which is perpetrated under the disguise, under the false colour, the mere forms of law and justice, and sanctioned by the hypocritical mummeries of superstition, instead of real religion. After dinner, Clifford described to us a scene of which he had been a spectator in the Tower, the week before, when he went there with Mrs. Despard to consult with the colonel, and to make his will; the colonel being then, and having long been labouring under a serious complaint, which had been brought on by the length of his confinement, and which was considered as dangerous by his physician. During the whole of that time the beef-eaters remained in the room so that even the sacred obligation of making his last will could not be performed, unless it was done in the presence and in the hearing of the officers of the Tower; and they actually became the subscribing witnesses to his will.

I had now become acquainted with many political characters, and I was frequently invited by Mr. Clifford to go down to Wimbledon with him, on a Sunday, to join the public parties of Mr. Horne Tooke, from whom he promised to insure me a hearty welcome. Deep-rooted vulgar prejudice against this extraordinary and highly gifted man had, however, got such possession of my feelings, that I continually made some excuse; for I had imbibed a notion that he was an artful intriguing person, of an insinuating address, who frequently led young politicians into scrapes and difficulties. My idea of him in politics was, that he was a violent Jacobin, and an enemy to his King and country; and this was quite enough to make me avoid his company. The real fact was, that I was afraid to trust myself in his society. I had no wish to become a politician, and as I found that the principles of liberty, which Mr. Clifford inculcated, had made a considerable impression upon my mind, I was afraid to encourage too far my natural propensity to resist injustice, oppression, and tyranny. I did not wish to fan the flame which Mr. Clifford's eloquence and convincing arguments had lighted in my breast. Another reason for my refusing to make one of the Wimbledon parties was, the probability that I should there meet with Sir Francis Burdett, whom I was induced to look upon almost as a political madman, a dangerous firebrand in the hands of Mr. Tooke, who appeared to me to be nothing less than a designing incendiary. Mr. Clifford took some pains to persuade me out of my ridiculous notions; yet, in the account which he gave me of Mr. Tooke's character, he in some measure confirmed me in the opinion that I had previously formed, as Mr. Tooke certainly made Sir F. Burdett a puppet to carry on his hostility against those ministers who had persecuted him, and aimed a deadly blow at his life.

Mr. Tooke was a man of profound talent, a persevering friend of liberty, and an implacable foe to the measures of Mr. Pitt. But he only supported partial, not general liberty: he was no friend of universal suffrage; he supported the householder, or rather the direct tax paying suffrage. To those who contended for universal suffrage, namely, the Duke of Richmond, Major Cartwright, and others, he made this comprehensive, intelligible reply, "You may go all the way to Windsor, if you please, but I shall stop short at Hounslow;" thus implying, that he was not prepared to give political freedom to more than one half of the people, that he would not go farther than Hounslow, which is not half way to Windsor. Sir Francis Burdett gloried in being thought a disciple of Mr. Tooke.

The Sunday parties at Wimbledon were composed of the disaffected persons in London and Westminster. Amongst the number stood pre-eminent the noted Charing-Cross tailor, Frank Place, who was always an avowed republican by profession; poor Samuel Miller, the shoemaker, in Skinner-street, Snow-hill; poor old Thomas Hardy, and many others, with whom I did not become acquainted till some time after this period, though I collected their characters from my friend Clifford. Mr. Thelwall had cut the concern, and set up in another line, that of a fashionable teacher of elocution.

At this period my taste leaned more to the sports of the field, to hunting, shooting, and fishing, than to any thing else; and as these amusements were more congenial to my habits and my large farming concerns in the country, I never, while I was the first time in prison, sought much for political information, though I necessarily heard a great deal of politics from my friends Waddington and Clifford, as well as from numerous political characters with whom I became acquainted, in consequence of their coming to visit the former gentleman. Indeed, seldom a day passed without seeing some half dozen or half score of them. Mr. Waddington's friends were almost all opposition men in politics; but his relations were one and all backbone loyalists, or rather royalists.

My young friend, William Butcher, was delighted with the society of Mr. Clifford. Butcher was a disciple of Thomas Paine; he had been bred up in a country village, where the clergyman, Mr. Evans, of Little Bedwin, who was his associate, had instilled into his mind all the principles of Paine, both political and theological, and consequently Butcher was delighted with the society that he had met with at our table. Butcher was a famous great arm-chair politician; over the bottle he would be as valiant as any man, yet he would never act. The reason he used to assign for never meddling in active politics was, that, except in a republic, no private citizen could ever attain the eminence of being the first man in the country; and no man, he thought, could have a proper stimulus, unless he could hope to be placed at the head of the government. Washington was his idol, and the American constitution was his creed in politics. He was enraptured to hear me listen with so much earnestness and attention to the political dogmas of Clifford, as he was pleased to call them; for Mr. Clifford never professed to wish for a republican government; he always contended that the English constitution, if it were administered in its purity, was quite good enough for Englishmen. In this opinion I then concurred with him, and from this opinion I have never once in my life swerved, up to this hour. A government of King, Lords, and Commons, so that the latter are fairly chosen by all the commons, would secure to us the full enjoyment of rational liberty. I am for that liberty which is secured and protected by the government of the laws, and not by the government of the sword. But those laws must be such as are made by the whole commons, the whole people of England, and not the arbitrary laws that are made by the few for the government of the whole; not the laws that are made by the few, for the partial and unjust benefit of the few, at the expence and cost of the whole.

Mr. Clifford was the brother-in-law of Sir Charles Wolseley, the worthy Baronet's first lady being Mr. Clifford's sister. My good and excellent friend, and true radical, Sir Charles Wolseley, baronet, is, as well as myself, the political disciple of the honest Counsellor Clifford. If Clifford, poor fellow! were now alive, how he would laugh to see two of his staunchest and most disinterested political disciples caught in the toils of the boroughmongers! But he would also laugh to see the melancholy state to which the said boroughmongers are reduced! Now they have caught us they do not know what to do with us.

Through Mr. Clifford I learned how they managed matters in the courts, and Mr. Waddington, who by this time had had considerable experience, was most violent against the injustice of the persecution which he had experienced. At this period he possessed a large quantity of hops, perhaps half the hops in the kingdom, which he had purchased upon a speculation, that there would be a very bad crop. His calculations turned out to be correct, and the hops that he had purchased at ten pounds a hundred were now worth twenty-two and twenty-three pounds. They were all in the Borough, and he was selling them off, at this advance in price, when the conspiracy was formed against him, at the head of which was Mr. Timothy Brown, of the firm of Whitbread and Brown. Mr. Pitt, in order to punish Mr. Waddington, for calling the meeting at the Paul's Head Tavern, in the City, to petition the King for peace, and the removal of ministers, lent himself and his agents to further the objects of this conspiracy of brewers against Mr. Waddington; and as Kenyon, the chief justice, was a devoted instrument of the minister's, Mr. Waddington was not only fined and sentenced to six months imprisonment, for forestalling hops, but acts of parliament were passed to permit the brewers to use foreign hops, quassia, or any other drug, or ingredient, as a substitute. By these unjustifiable and partial proceedings, the very same hops that were worth, and had been selling at, twenty-three pounds a hundred, were reduced down to five pounds, and even to three pounds a hundred.

Mr. Timothy Brown was at the head of those brewers who acted as the tools of the minister, to persecute Mr. Waddington, not for forestalling hops, but actually for standing up to do his duty in the city of London, as a liveryman, to oppose the ruinous system of ministers; and it is the best proof that can be given of his earnestness and sincerity, that they never relaxed in their persecutions against him till they had ruined him. He was a merchant, a banker at Maidstone, and a trader, and, of course, he was largely concerned in money transactions. Now the government can always silence any man in this situation, or ruin him and his credit, if he becomes really sincere in his opposition to them; and this is one good reason why we radicals have nothing to expect from merchants, bankers, and traders. The ministers have no objection to those persons who carry on a regular whig opposition, because that is all in the way of business. They are all in the regiment, and although they are upon what is called half-pay, yet they belong to the regiment, and are always in the expectancy of being called into active service again. The ministers generally employ some of these expectants to do their dirty work for them; and any measure that is prosecuted by the Whigs is, at least was, at the time of which I am speaking, thought by a great number of well-meaning but ignorant people, to be perfectly justifiable. As I pass along I shall be able to prove to the reader, how well the factions manage these matters, how skilfully they always play into each other's hands, against the rights, the property, and the liberties of the people. For instance, if the ministers want any obnoxious measure brought into parliament, such an one as, if it were to be suggested by themselves, would create a great public feeling, alarm, and hostility to it, throughout the country—to wit, if they want to carry a corn bill, to raise or keep up the price of corn three or four shillings a bushel, the effect of which is, to lay a tax of twenty or thirty millions a year upon the people who consume it, they are cunning enough to put forward one of those shoy-hoy Whigs. Sir Henry Parnell, an Irish Whig baronet, must, forsooth, be the ostensible parent of the measure, while the ministers are professing openly to be doubtful of its expediency and policy. When all this has been done to sound the people, they, at length, with a seeming reluctance, yield to the suggestions of the landed interest, and the urgency of the state; and should the people begin to be importunate, and remonstrate against the measure, why then it is only necessary to bring upon the scene their principal shoy-hoy, Westminster's pride, to wit; and if he will but just say at a Westminster meeting, "that the measure is of little consequence either to him or his constituents;" and if, when he is called upon in the House, by my Lord Castlereagh, to speak honestly his sentiments respecting the measure, he will get up and merely tell the Noble Lord "that he deserves to be impeached; but that as to the corn bill it will be all the same to him whether it is passed or not, that he is as much for it as against it, but that he does not care which way it goes;" why then the juggle is rendered complete. Oh, what a farce! What a delusion! but the ministers having got this hero on their side, the measure passes, and the people are duped and deceived. As I proceed in my history, I shall be able to shew to the public how necessary these shoy-hoys are to the ministers, and how often they have successfully played them off against the people. So it was in this case. The Judges knew that there was no law against Mr. Waddington. It was, therefore, necessary to make a shew of great feeling and interest for the welfare of the people; and this Mr. Timothy Brown, who was a Whig, and a partner of Whitbread, was selected as the instrument upon this occasion. He was so selected because he bore Mr. Waddington a personal hatred, and was glad to pursue him with vindictive hostility, for a harmless joke which Mr. Waddington had played upon him. Nor did he cease his attacks upon him till he actually ruined him.