barrels, with _small beer_, in order to deceive him, and make him believe that it was strong beer. At this he stared a very incredulous stare, and said that he would look into it, but he delayed it so long that, when he did join me in taking decisive measures, the whole property sold for about two thousand pounds, so that we were minus about five thousand pounds; and every shilling of this loss I attribute to my quaker uncle’s obstinacy–a failing, notwithstanding all their good qualities, to which this sect is very subject.
I had contracted a great predilection for the son, with whom I had had an intimacy for some years; and, notwithstanding the loss I had sustained by his father, he prevailed upon me to join him in a brewing concern at Clifton, near Bristol: as he had not a shilling of his own, I was to find the cash, and he judgment. I did this mainly to set him up in business, although I was not without expectations that it might ultimately become a profitable concern. I therefore engaged to find a capital of six or eight thousand pounds; from two to three of which was to be sunk in building a brewery, the erection of which I was to superintend, and complete the fabric after my own plan. As soon as this was done, I was only to find the money, and my young friend was to manage and conduct the brewing concern. I agreed to all this upon one condition only, which was, that there should be nothing brewed in our brewery but genuine beer and porter, made of malt and hops alone. After some parley upon this point it was at length assented to.
The brewery was built upon the site of an old distillery, at the rising of a spring called Jacob’s Well, at the foot of Brandon Hill, and immediately below Belleview, at Clifton. The whole was soon completed under my own eye, and finished entirely on my own plan. I took advantage of the declivity of the hill, on the side of which the premises were situated, to have it so constructed that the whole process of brewing was conducted, from the grinding of the malt, which fell from the mill into the mash-tun, without any lifting or pumping; with the exception of pumping the water, called _liquor_ by brewers, first into the reservoir, which composed the roof of the building. By turning a cock, this liquor filled the steam boiler, from thence it flowed into the mash-tun; the wort had only once to be pumped, once from the under back into the boiler, from thence it emptied itself, by turning the cock, into the coolers; it then flowed into the working vats and riving casks, and from the stillions, which were immediately above the store casks into which it flowed, only by turning a cock. These store casks were mounted on stands or horses, high enough to set a butt upright, and fill it out of the lower cock; and then the butts and barrels were rolled to the door, and upon the drays, without one ounce of lifting from the commencement of the process to the end. This was a great saving of labour. I left the concern in the hands of my young friend, with every prospect of success, and I then returned to my farm at Chisenbury; having, as I was taught to believe, laid the foundation of a lucrative concern, from which I expected to derive a liberal interest for the money I had advanced, which was about eight thousand pounds, and at the same time afford a handsome income for my young friend. But such is the uncertainty and precarious state of all speculative concerns of this nature, and such the inconstancy of friendship, that, instead of ever receiving one shilling from this concern, I found it still continue to be a drain upon my purse. Bills were coming due, I was told, and they must be provided for, or the credit of the firm would be blasted. Duty, to a large amount, was to be paid every six weeks, and as often I was called upon to assist in making up the sum. I now began, although much too late, to curse the hour that I became connected with trade. I, however, did not despair. I met all the demands, till, having called in a considerable sum of money, which I had lent to a friend, an attorney, upon his note of hand, he gave me bills, payable at _one, two_, and _three_ months, for the amount. These were all absorbed at the brewery, and paid away in the course of trade, for malt, hops, &c. but the first, second, and third, all the said bills, were as _regularly dishonoured_ as they became due. So much for friendly attorneys! and though I had a sufficient sum in my bankers’ hands, Stuckey and Co. to meet the deficiency, with some exertion of my own, _yet_, such a ticklish thing is _credit_, and particularly in the illiberal city of Bristol, that I found my bankers always looked shy at any bills that were carried to them afterwards. My friend, the attorney, renewed the bills, with a solemn promise that they should be regularly paid when they became due; but the word and honour of an attorney, at least of this attorney, was good for nothing. Fortunately, I only paid one of them away in the trade; for that and the others were as _regularly dishonoured as before_.
To meet and overcome such treachery, I was obliged to reside a great portion of my time at Clifton; and I soon found that, instead of my receiving regular interest for the money which I had advanced, I was in a fair way of being drained of every shilling I possessed, if I did not make a stand. My old friend, Waddington, came to visit me; he was a man of business and of the world, and I begged of him to look into the books and advise me. He did so, and at the end of a couple of hours he returned, and informed me that I had been egregiously deceived, plundered, and robbed, and that he had not the slightest hesitation in declaring, that my young friend, in whom I had placed such unlimited and implicit confidence, was a _great villain!_ I was thunderstruck, and inquired how he meant to substantiate his charge; his answer was, invite him to dine with us to-day, and after dinner send for the books, and I will make him confess his villainy before your face. I followed his advice, invited him to dine, and after dinner I sent for the books, under the pretence of explaining something to Mr. Waddington. The books came; Mr. Waddington turned to a particular account, which he had investigated in the morning, pointed it out to him, and begged to know how he could account for such and such entries. My gentleman turned pale and equivocated. Mr. Waddington turned to another and another, upon which my protege stood confessedly a most complete hypocrite; and having thrown himself on my mercy, he at once obtained my forgiveness, upon a solemn promise of never being guilty of a similar offence again. Mr. Waddington expressed his astonishment at my forbearance in not having him committed, and ridiculed my folly in continuing to place any confidence in him; adding, “I hanged one clerk and transported two more, for much less offences than he has been guilty of, and in which I have clearly detected him.”
The young man shewed the greatest contrition, and after he had vowed reparation in the most solemn terms, he took his leave. The moment his back was turned, Mr. Waddington declared, that he had not the least doubt in his own mind that, notwithstanding all the protestations which I had heard, he was gone away determined to commit some more desperate act of fraud; and, to convince me of the correctness of his judgment, he got up at four o’clock the next morning, and stole down to my brewery, and there he detected him in the fact of practising upon me a fraud similar to that of which he had been previously convicted by his own confession. Mr. Waddington came back to breakfast, and informed me of the fact, and urged my taking immediate criminal proceedings against the offender. I, however, preferred giving him an opportunity to escape, and having ordered my curricle I called at the brewery, to say that I was going to Chisenbury for a few days. He inquired as follows–“_Pray, Sir, what day shall we have the pleasure of seeing you back again?_” I replied that it would be in about a week. These were the last words I ever heard from him. When I returned I found, as I expected, that he had sailed for America, bag and baggage, two days: after I left Bristol.
I discovered that the concern was in a most wretched state; the debts had been collected to a shilling, where they were good for any thing. The cellars were filled with bad beer, although he had had the unlimited control of the best malt and hops. I had sent my own best barley down from Chisenbury, and had made fifty quarters of malt a week, for two whole seasons, for which I had no return, and the amount of my losses in this concern is incalculable. When he first began brewing I made him make oath, before the Mayor of Bristol, that he would use only malt and hops in the brewing of the beer and porter at the Jacob’s Well Brewery. Some time after this, I had some ground of suspicion that the brewer purchased some small quantity of copperas, to assist his faults in brewing. I, therefore, ever afterwards made the brewer, as well as his master, take the oath before the Mayor, that they would use nothing but malt and hops in brewing.
When the act was passed, making it a penalty of two hundred pounds to use any _drug, ingredient_, or _material_, except malt and hops, in the brewing of beer, Alderman Wood obtained a patent for making of colouring, to heighten the colour of porter. This colouring was made of scorched or burnt malt, and it was mashed the same as common malt, which produced a colouring of the consistency of treacle, and having nearly its appearance. As this patent was very much approved of, almost every porter brewer in England used it in the colouring their porter; and amongst that number I was not only a customer of the worthy alderman for colouring, but I was also a considerable purchaser of hops from the firm of Wood, Wiggan & Co. in Falcon Square. I had just got down a fresh cask of this colouring, and it was standing at the entrance door of the brewery, where it had been rolled off the dray, when news was brought me that the new exciseman had seized the cask of colouring, and had taken it down to the excise office. I immediately wrote to Wood, Wiggan & Co. to inform them of the circumstance; upon which they immediately applied to the board of excise in London, and by the return of post I received a letter from Messrs. Wood, to say, that an order was gone off, by the same post, to direct the officers of excise in Bristol to restore the cask of colouring without delay; and almost as soon as this letter had come to hand, and before I could place it upon the file, one of the exciseman came quite out of breath to say that an order had arrived from the board of excise in London, to restore the cask of colouring, and it was quite at my service, whenever I pleased to send for it. I wrote back a letter by the fellow, to say, that as the exciseman had seized and carried away from my brewery a cask of colouring, which was allowed by the board of excise to be perfectly legal to use, as it was made of malt and hops only, unless, within two hours of that time, they caused it to be restored to the very spot from whence it was illegally removed, I would direct an action to be commenced against them. In less than an hour the cask of colouring was returned, and the same exciseman who had seized it came to make an apology for his error. His pardon was at once granted, and so ended this mighty affair; and I continued to use the said colouring, as well as did all the porter brewers in Bristol, without further molestation, as long as I continued the brewery; never having had any other seizure while I was concerned in the brewery.
Now, let the reader look at this circumstance, and compare it with the account, the malignant account, given of it in the Mock Times, which, I think, was given to the public while I was in solitary confinement in the New Bailey, at Manchester, upon a charge of high treason. That was the time chosen by the cowardly scoundrel, the editor of the Mock Times, to state “that I had formerly been a brewer at Bristol, and, that I had made oath that my beer was genuine, and brewed solely from malt and hops; but that, in turning to the excise books, they found that, at such a period (mentioning the term) Henry Hunt was exchequered, for using deleterious drugs in the making the said genuine beer.” This was the time chosen to propagate this infamous, this cowardly, this barefaced falsehood; the very time when I was locked up in solitary confinement, in a dungeon, under a charge of high treason; and this is the hypocrite who pretends never to attack private character. This fellow, Slop, I never yet saw to know him; but I hope I shall live to look the coward scoundrel in the face.
In the latter end of the year 1803, an insurrection broke out in Ireland, and the Habeas Corpus Act was in consequence suspended. Lord Kilwarden, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench in Ireland, was put to death by the insurgents in Dublin. War had also commenced once more between England and France. The English proceeded to seize all the French ships they could find at sea; making the people on board prisoners of war. In retaliation for this act of aggression, Buonaparte seized upon the persons of all the English in France, and treated them as prisoners. This was blazoned forth as a tyrannical act of injustice, in all the public newspapers, the venal editors of which contrived to keep out of sight the provocation which France had received, and that she only seized the English, and made them prisoners in retaliation. Addington’s peace was now, indeed, proved to be what Mr. Fox had anticipated, in his speech upon the occasion in parliament, “a hollow truce;” for, to use the minister’s own expression, “he had entered into the treaty of Amiens _merely as an experiment_.” A bill called the Defence Bill was passed; an army of reserve was raised; volunteer corps were again established all over the country; and every measure was used to repel the threatened invasion of the enemy. This defence bill compelled every parish or district to raise a certain number of men, as volunteers, or pay a fine if it failed to do so. Having endeavoured in vain to raise their quota, many parishes paid the fine (which by the bye was not unacceptable to the Government).
Amongst the number of defaulters on this occasion was the parish of Enford, the farmers of which had used every means to raise the men; being, in the first place, loth to part with their money, and in the next, not relishing the disgrace of not having influence enough with their labourers to induce them to volunteer. They had already held two meetings, at which officers were appointed, but no men came forward to put down their names, although they were earnestly exhorted to do so by the vicar of the parish, the Reverend John Prince, who was generally liked by his parishioners. One of my servants, my bailiff, I believe, wrote to me at Clifton, to inform me of the state of the politics of the parish, which was, that the men were willing enough, but they did not like their officers, and that they wished me as an officer. My bailiff added, that if I would come to the meeting, on the following Sunday, which was the last intended to be held, and give in my name as their captain, the number, which was to be sixty, would be volunteered in an hour. Agreeable to this suggestion I drove to Enford on the following Sunday, and, as I was late I drove up to the church door in my curricle. I was welcomed as usual by the kind and friendly salutations of my old neighbours; but when I came to the church-yard all was solemn silence, and as still as death itself; not one of the parishioners appeared as usual upon such occasions. I supposed that the meeting was over, and was about to return, when one of the farmers came out of the church and invited me into the vestry, where all the heads of the parish were assembled, as he informed me, with the vicar in the chair. I followed him into the vestry room, where I found them all in solemn, sober, deliberation, brooding over their disappointment, in not having obtained the names of any of the labourers of the parish. One of them shortly addressed me, inveighing against this disloyalty and disaffection, and he informed me, that they had just came to an unanimous resolution to pay the fine, and not trouble themselves any farther about it, unless I could suggest some plan to avoid the disgrace and the expence to the parish. I submitted the propriety of making a proper appeal to those whom they wished to come forward. They replied by producing a hand-bill, to which they said they had added their personal entreaties; but all in vain, as not one man had come forward, although three persons had volunteered as officers. I hinted that that was beginning at the wrong end; that the men should have been first enrolled, and then allowed to choose their own officers.
At this moment the sexton came in, to say that the church-yard was full of men; women and children; that the whole parish had assembled when they saw Mr. Hunt drive up to the church; and that the men all said, “if Squire Hunt would be their captain they would enroll their names, and would follow him to any part of the world.” It was proposed that we should go out to them, and hear what they had got to say. As soon as we reached the door, the cry was raised of Captain Hunt for ever! accompanied with three cheers. This was a most gratifying spectacle to me; I was surrounded by all those with whom I had been bred up, those amongst whom I had been born, and with whom, and under whose eye, I had passed my whole life, with the exception of the time which I had spent at school. I could do no less than address them, and accordingly I mounted on a tombstone (an excellent rostrum)–I spoke to them in a language that they well understood, the language of truth and not of flattery. I kindly thanked them for the honour they intended me, and the unqualified confidence they appeared disposed to place in me; I recalled to their recollections the happy days that we had spent together in the alternate and rational enjoyment of useful labour and cheerful recreation; we had worked, we had toiled together in the field; we had mingled together in the innocent gay delights of the country wake; I had been present, and had never failed to patronise their manly sports, at the annual festivals of Easter and Whitsuntide; I had contended with them, while yet a boy, in the foot race, at the cricket match, or at the fives court; I had entered the ring with the more athletic, struggled foot to foot for the fall, and had borne off many a wrestling prize for the day, which I had never failed to give to some less powerful or less fortunate candidate for the honour: I had always mingled with and encouraged their innocent sports, but I had never countenanced any drunken revelry. In fact, I was so well known amongst the young and the old, that they all with one accord exclaimed, if Mr. Hunt will be our captain we will follow where he leads, if it be to the farthermost parts of the earth. At the same time that I thanked them for, and was highly delighted with this predilection, I endeavoured to prevail upon them to accept those who had offered themselves as their officers; and I pointed out to them the distance at which I should be from them, and the inconvenience it would be to me to attend to instruct them in their duty. But all would not do; not one man would put his name to the paper; not one female urged her relation on to volunteer. I must own that I felt a conscious pride in their partiality, and particularly upon this occasion, because a few envious persons had hinted that my family misfortunes, and my separation from my wife, had in a great measure weaned the affections of some of my neighbours from me.
At length, after having tried their sincerity fairly, and found it invincible, I yielded to their wishes, and in an impassioned tone, I announced _that I would be their captain_; this I did amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the whole assembled multitude, men, women, and children; every man pressing forward to sign his name as a volunteer. But, having obtained silence, I seriously admonished them as follows:–“My kind-hearted, generous, zealous, neighbours and friends, recollect what you are about to do, and pause a little before you sign your names; for I solemnly declare, before God and my country, that I have no other object in becoming your captain, but a sincere desire to serve my country; and, as I should be ashamed to become a volunteer, if I were not ready to lay down my life in defending her shores against the invasion of a foreign enemy, I shall, therefore, not tender my services, or accept of yours, upon any other terms than these: _That we volunteer our services to Government, to be ready at a moment’s notice, to march to any part of the united kingdom, whenever we may be called upon, and wherever we may be wanted_. Upon these terms, and these alone, I consent to become your captain.”
This was again answered by three more cheers, and a general cry of “_wherever you, our captain, choose to lead we will be ready to follow!_” The first men who pressed forward, and placed their names at the head of the list, were those very men whom, a few years before, I had caused to be prosecuted for a riot and rescue, at Netheravan. I never witnessed a more gratifying flattering scene than the village church-yard of Enford exhibited. Old women were encouraging their sons, others their husbands, young maidens were smiling their willing assent to their sweethearts and brothers, and although there was not a single instance where the men required any of these to urge them on to do their duty in the defence of their country, yet the approbation and smiles of the females gave such a zest to the act, and stamped such a sanction upon the whole undertaking, that one and all burned with the most lively enthusiasm to become willing agents to stem the threatened irruption of the invader, and to repel his aggressions even at the risk of their life’s dearest blood. With the exception of two individuals, who had taken some pique, every man in the parish capable of bearing arms enrolled himself on that day or the following morning; upon the completion of which I wrote the following letter to Earl Pembroke, the Lord Lieutenant of the County :—-
_Chisenbury House, August_ 15, 1803.
MY LORD,
Having observed, with infinite regret, in the public newspapers, that when a general meeting of the various parishes in this neighbourhood took place, the inhabitants exhibited great apathy with regard to the situation of the country, and that only a small portion of the inhabitants of the parish of Enford had signed their names to act as volunteers in defence of their country in case of an invasion, I was induced, yesterday, from a sense of public duty, to come amongst them; and, at their particular and unanimous request, I accepted the offer to command them, agreeable to the provisions of the late act of parliament. I have the pleasure now to inform you, that all the men in this parish capable of bearing arms, with the exception of two, have voluntarily enrolled their names to act as a company of volunteers, to be at the command of the Government, to march at a moment’s notice to any part of the united kingdom, where our services may be required. I also beg leave, in addition to the foregoing, to renew the offer which I made through your Lordship two years back, of my life and fortune, without any reservation, to oppose the daring views of our enterprising enemy. Sir John Poore, your Deputy Lieutenant, has expressed himself much pleased with the zeal and the alacrity with which the people of Enford have come forward, and I have to solicit your Lordship’s early attention to this corps (in case our services should be accepted), as I feel particularly anxious to render their services available as speedily as possible.
I am, my Lord,
Your Lordship’s obedient Servant,
H. HUNT.
_To the Earl, of Pembroke._
Having dispatched my servant off with this letter, enclosing a list of the names of the volunteers, I appointed to meet them at my house at Chisenbury on the following Sunday, by which time I expected I should be able to give them the answer of the Lord Lieutenant; and in the mean time I returned to look after my brewing concern at Clifton. In a few days after, I received a palavering letter from my Lord Pembroke, as follows:—- _Lower Brook Street, Aug_. 18, 1803.
SIR,
I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 15th, enclosing a list of persons who have volunteered in the parish of Enford. The offer is most liberal and handsome on your part, as well as on the part of those who have joined you in tendering such unlimited service, which, although it far exceeds the limits of the Defence Bill, yet I shall feel it my duty to lay it before the Secretary of State, that it may receive that attention which your patriotic offers merit. There will be a meeting of Deputy Lieutenants in a few days, when your offer shall be taken into consideration, and receive my early attention.
I am, Sir,
Your obedient Servant,
PEMBROKE.
_To Henry Hunt, Esq_.
_Chisenbury House_.
I could easily see that there was a shuffle meant here; and I anticipated that our services were much too zealous and disinterested to meet with the sanction of his Lordship, and so it proved; for when I reached Chisenbury House, on the following Sunday, I found a letter, written by Lord Pembroke to Sir John Melburn Poore, Bart, left for my perusal, as underneath:—-
_Margate, August_, 1803.
SIR,
I find that it will not be in my power to forward the offer from Enford, in your division, which was communicated to me by Mr. Hunt, of Chisenbury House. I must beg that you will state to him, for the information of the members of the proposed company, that I am sorry they cannot be included in the county quota, in consequence of there having been a sufficient number already volunteered from that district; but that, in justice to their marked zeal and loyalty, I shall think it my duty to state the offer that they have made, to the Secretary of State, and I shall point it out as an instance of great devotion to the service, to the notice of his Majesty’s ministers, &c. &c. &c.
I am, Sir,
Your very obedient Servant,
PEMBROKE.
_Sir J. M. Poore, Bart._
When I drove into my front court, at Chisenbury House, I found these brave and zealous fellows drawn up in as good line as I ever in my life saw in a company of regulars, and they instantly saluted me with three cheers. They had employed a drill serjeant, and had met to perform their exercise two or three evenings during the week, and they could already march and wheel with considerable facility and address. However, as soon as I had read the letter which had been forwarded by Sir John Poore, from the Lord Lieutenant, I did not keep them a moment in suspence. I formed them into a hollow square, and having briefly addressed them, I next proceeded to read the letter aloud, which appeared to excite mingled feelings of regret and indignation; every one seemed to feel that zeal and devotedness were not the qualities that were sought for by the Lord Lieutenant. We had, however, the great consolation of knowing that our promptitude and patriotism, not only saved the parish of Enford from the fine which had been threatened, but also saved the whole district from the fines that would no doubt have been levied to a shilling: for the Lord Lieutenant having said that he declined to forward our offer in consequence of a _sufficient number_ of men in our district having already volunteered their services, they could not after that, with common decency, fine any parish in our district for not offering to volunteer.
I now caused a hogshead of good old strong beer to be rolled out upon the lawn, and, although our services were not accepted in defence of our country, yet that did not prevent us from drinking to her success, and prosperity to her people. My neighbours, when they had finished their old stingo, were about to depart in peace; but, as is frequently the case, when men have made free with the glass, reason and liberality forsake them, so it was here, for some of them wished to proceed immediately to the house of the miller, who, with his servant, in consequence of some pique against me, had declined to place their names in our list of volunteers. Elated with liquor, they proposed to inflict summary punishment upon these persons, by giving them a sound ducking in their own mill pond; but this course of proceeding I immediately put down, by justifying the men in their conduct, and contending that they had an equal right to withhold their services as we had to volunteer ours; and thus they escaped the threatened unjustifiable punishment. The men, however, one and all, renewed their offers to me, that they would be ready and willing at all times to come forward, to undertake any service that I might propose to them; and they added the assurance of their belief, that I would never propose any thing to them that I would not join them in accomplishing. Thus ended our meeting, and at all events we had the satisfaction of having done our duty to ourselves and our country.
Some time after this, I was informed of a very curious circumstance, relating to this affair. As soon as I sent in this offer to the Lord Lieutenant, he called a meeting of his Deputy Lieutenants, and laid it before them; pointing out the unlimited and extensive nature of the tender of our services, and expressing a doubt whether he should be justified in accepting it under the provision of the Defence Bill, without some reduction in the numbers, and modification as to the extension of the service tendered. This, I understood, caused a very long discussion; all of them disapproving of the example set by offering such extensive service; none of the other corps having volunteered to go farther than their military district, Wilts, Hants, and Dorset. One of these wiseacres exclaimed, in very boisterous language, against accepting the offer, and for this sapient reason–“because,” as he said, “two hundred men out of one parish had volunteered to march to any part of the kingdom to hazard their lives in the defence of their country, provided they were commanded by an officer of their own choice; _ergo_, it was highly improper to trust arms in the hands of such a body of men.” Though this was very properly laughed at by some of the more rational members of this divan, yet they came to an unanimous resolution to exempt the whole district of Enford from their quotas rather than run such a desperate risk. Well! I had all the credit of the offer, without any of the trouble and expence of putting it into execution. I have detailed these facts as another proof of my enthusiasm. I never acted from any cold calculating notions of self-interest. If I thought it right to perform an act of public or private duty, having once made up my mind, I never suffered any selfish considerations to interpose to prevent my carrying it into effect.
After all, the troops of Napoleon never landed, and consequently the mighty heroes of the volunteer corps escaped with whole skins. Buonaparte, nevertheless, persisted in playing off the bugbear of the French flotilla at Boulogne, by which John Gull was kept in a complete state of agitation and ferment. Addington’s majorities fell off every day, in the House of Commons; and by Pitt’s intrigues and management he was at length left in a minority; and, as it was considered much too disgraceful a thing even by Addington to hold his place after he had been left in the minority, he resigned, and William Pitt once more wielded the destinies of England, he being appointed prime minister on the twelfth of May, 1804. The British navy was unsuccessful in its attempts to destroy the French flotilla at Boulogne; and three trials to set fire to the shipping at Havre also proved abortive.
On the eighteenth of May, Buonaparte was declared Emperor of France, under the title of Napoleon the First. This act was in fact hastened, if not produced, by the discovery and detection of a real diabolical plot against the life and government of Buonaparte; in which Moreau, Pichegru, Georges, and others, were implicated, and were in consequence arrested. Moreau was tried, found guilty, pardoned, and exiled. The Duke D’Enghien, grandson of the Prince of Conde, was known to be on the frontier, connected with these men, and some English agents, who were concerned in the conspiracy. D’Enghien was urging them on, and zealously endeavoring to raise a rebellion in the French territories. This he did in a very conspicuous way, relying upon his own security, he being at the time in Baden, a neutral territory; but Buonaparte, setting the Duke of Baden at defiance, entered his territory, and caused the conspirator to be seized and tried, and being found guilty, he was shot. The despots of the north, Russia and Sweden, remonstrated against this violation of neutral territory; but all the other powers of Europe displayed a more tame and forbearing policy. As the trial and execution of this sprig of the Bourbons, who was detected in a conspiracy to assassinate Napoleon, and to produce the overthrow of his Government in France, caused a universal howling of all the hireling editors of all the newspapers in this country, against what they called the murder of this Duke D’Enghien, I shall shortly state the charges on which he was unanimously found guilty by the Military Court, which was appointed to try him; the President being Citizen Hulin, General of Brigade. The FIRST charge was “That of having carried arms against the French Republic.”–SECOND, “Of having offered his services to the English Government, the enemy of the French people.”–THIRD, “Of receiving and having, with accredited agents of that Government, procured means of obtaining intelligence in France, and conspiring against the internal and external security of the state.”–FOURTH, “That he was at the head of a body of French emigrants, paid by England, formed on the frontiers of France, in the districts of Friburg and Baden.”–FIFTH, “Of having attempted to foment intrigues at Strasburg, with a view of producing a rising in the adjacent departments, for the purpose of operating a diversion favourable to England.”–SIXTH, “That be was one of those concerned in the conspiracy planned by England for the _assassination of the First Consul_, and intending, in case of the success of that plot, to return to France.” The court, composed of military officers, after a patient hearing, unanimously found the prisoner _guilty_ of all the six charges. The president of the court then pronounced the sentence as follows:–“The Special Military Commission condemns unanimously to death, Louis Antoine Henry de Bourbon, Duke D’Enghien, on the ground of his being guilty of acting as a spy, of corresponding with the enemies of the Republic, and conspiring against the external and internal security of the Republic.” However this young man might be pitied, however much we may have lamented his end, yet he was tried and condemned by the known and written law of France, which was expressed in the following terms:–Article 2nd, 11th January, year 5–“Every individual, whatever be his state, quality, or profession, convicted of _acting as a spy for the enemy, shall be sentenced to the punishment of death_.” Article 1st, every one engaged in a plot or conspiracy against the Republic, shall on conviction be punished with _death_. Article 3rd, 6th October, 1791.–Every one connected with a plot or conspiracy tending to disturb the tranquillity of the state, by civil war, by arming one class of citizens against the other, or against the exercise of legitimate authority, shall be punished with _death_. Signed and sealed the same day, month and year aforesaid. Guiton, Bazancourt, Revier, Barrois, Rabbe, D’Autancourt, Captain Reporter; Molin, Captain Register; and Hulin president.
After all the howling, and all that has been said, about this trial and execution, this Duke D’Enghien had as fair a trial, a much fairer jury, with an unanimous verdict of guilty upon _all_ the charges, and a much more equitable, and ten times more just sentence, than I received from the immaculate Court of King’s Bench. _Hulin_ was much more justified, by the law of France, in passing this sentence upon D’Enghien, than _Bailey_ was in passing a sentence upon me of _Two Years and Six Months_ incarceration in this infamous jail. It is very true that _Bailey_ was only the mouth-piece of the court, and I am ready to admit that, though he passed the sentence upon me, yet, he was so far from concurring in it, that he actually wrote down “not one hour,” as the whole of his share of the punishment that he thought I ought to receive. There was, however, the _pure_ and _venerable judge_—-, as he was denominated by the amiable _Castlereagh_ alias _Londonderry_, when my Petition was rejected by the Honourable House on the 15th instant, May, 1821, the day when Sir Francis Burdett brought forward his long-promised, long-delayed, frequently put-off motion, upon the Manchester massacre. Oh! the _venerable Judge!_ I thank you kindly for that, my Lord–I will always follow so good and worthy an example as that of your Lordship; in future he shall always be designated by me as the _venerable Judge! Jeffries_ was indeed also a _venerable Judge_, and Jeffries came to an end the most appropriate for such a _venerable Judge_. Talk of _Hulin_ indeed! he was a paragon of justice, humanity and mercy, compared with my Lord _Shift-names’ venerable emblem of purity_. I think it was Mr. Horne Tooke that used to say, that it was as difficult to know who and what our nobility were, as it was to know a pickpocket or a highwayman, the former changed their names as frequently as the latter; and really the remark is a perfectly correct one! The famous Mr. Drake, the notorious English plenipotentiary at the court of Munich, was at the head of this conspiracy, while holding the situation of English Ambassador to the Elector of Bavaria. Ten of his original letters were seized by the police of the Republic, and in the report of Regnier, the Chief Justice, the following extracts from Mr. Drake’s letters were introduced. In addressing one of his correspondents, an active conspirator, as he thought, who had undertaken to assassinate the First Consul, but who was nothing more or less than an agent of the French Police, he writes with a brutal fury worthy of the part he plays. The letter is dated Munich, December 9, 1803. “It is,” says he, “of very little consequence _by whom the Beast is brought to the ground_; it is sufficient that you are all ready to join in the chace.” There was also another of these precious diplomatic agents of the British Government, a person of the name of _Spencer Smith_, Minister from England at Stutgard, acting as a conspirator against the person of the First Consul and the Republic of France, who was wise enough to employ a Frenchman, named Pericaud, as his confidential secretary. In one of his letters Drake uses the following language: “_You should_,” says he, “_offer the soldiers a small increase of pay beyond what they receive of the present Government_.” In the report of the Grand Judge, he speaks of Mr. Drake as follows:–“an English Minister such as Mr. Drake, cannot be punished by obloquy–this can only mortify men who feel the price of virtue, and know that of honour.” He adds, “Men who preach up assassination and foment domestic troubles, the agents of corruption, the missionaries of revolt against all established governments, are the enemies of all states and all governments. The law of nations does not exist for them.” In the second interview of Mr. Rosey with Mr. Drake, when he was devising the plan for destroying Buonaparte, Mr. Rosey says, he, Drake, spoke as follows, when speaking of the fall of Napoleon: “Profit, when the occasion shall offer, by the trouble in which the rest of his partizans will be plunged. _Destroy them without pity; pity is not the virtue of a politician_.” In fact it appears very evident, that the plan was to assassinate the First Consul, and thereby to produce a fresh revolution in France.
Soon after this, Captain Wright, who landed Georges, Pichegru, and their accomplices, on the coast at Dieppe, was taken in a corvette by the French gun-boats, and was sent off to Paris in the diligence, accompanied by the Gendarmerie. This Captain Wright, after very urgent negociations through the Spanish Minister at Paris, was ordered to be given up to the English by Talleyrand; the French Government having refused to exchange him as a prisoner of war on any terms. Having been engaged in this plot to assassinate Buonaparte, he was treated as a spy, and might have been tried by the law of France and executed as such. The French Government, however, thought it a sufficient disgrace to him as a man of honour, to refuse to exchange him, but to give him up as a boon to the Spanish Ambassador. Wright, it is said by his keepers, cut his throat in the prison; but the English hireling newspaper editors made a great clamour against Buonaparte, to persuade John Gull that he had been murdered in prison; though it would be difficult to find any good reason for this, when he might have been tried and executed by the law of France, upon the same principle that D’Enghien was convicted.
Mr. Cobbett, who had now become celebrated for his political works, particularly his Weekly Political Register, had about this time began to write very freely in the cause of Liberty. Being a most powerful writer, he had attacked with great success the tyrannical measures of the Irish Government, and he was, therefore, prosecuted for a libel upon the Earl of Hardwicke, Lord Redesdale, Mr. Justice Osbourn, and Mr. Marsden. The trial came on before Lord Ellenborough and a Middlesex special jury, and he was found guilty, of course. He also had an action for damages brought against him by Mr. Plunkett, Solicitor-General of Ireland; and this action being also tried by a Middlesex special jury, he had, of course, a verdict against him, with L500 damages.
Mr. Pitt was now again in power, and he endeavoured to make the public believe that he had assented to the wishes of the nation, by an union with Mr. Fox, whom he professed to have recommended to his Majesty to appoint one of the cabinet. This was one of Mr. Pitt’s artful and hypocritical shuffles; he contrived that the King should object to the admission of Mr. Fox; while at the same time he managed so as to make the nation think that he studied their wishes by recommending Mr. Fox to the King; and thus he fixed upon his Majesty the odium of disregarding the prayers of the people, and objecting to Mr. Fox from merely personal motives.
I was living at Clifton at this period, and during the summer I visited Cheltenham with my family. At the latter place I frequently met Mr. Fox, who was drinking the celebrated waters, for his health, which had become greatly impaired in consequence of his attending so incessantly to his parliamentary duties. He was accompanied by Mrs. Armstead, the lady whom he afterwards married, and to which lady the people of England have had the honour to pay twelve hundred pounds a-year, ever since the death of Mr. Fox. Mrs. Armstead appeared to be a very delightful woman, with whom this great statesman and senator evidently lived in a state of the most perfect domestic harmony. They were almost always together, seldom if ever were they seen separate–at the pump-room in the morning; at the library and reading-room at noon, when the papers came in; at the theatre, or at private parties, in the evening; Mr. Fox and Mrs. Armstead were always to be seen together. The Duke of Bedford was then recently married to his present Duchess. Mr. Fox and his lady were frequently of the Duke’s party; in fact, they were as one family. Cheltenham was then very full of gay company; amongst whom a great deal of dissipation and intrigue were going on. It was frequently made a subject of remark, that Mr. Fox and Mr. Hunt appeared to enjoy more real happiness, more domestic felicity, than any of the married persons at Cheltenham, with the exception of the Duke and Duchess of Bedford, who lived a retired domestic life at that time; and, from what I have heard, have continued to do so ever since.
I remember sitting in the library with Mr. Fox, on the morning when the news arrived by the post, that Sir Francis Burdett was elected the representative for the county of Middlesex, by a majority of ONE. Mr. Fox was greatly elated with this momentary success of the Baronet; but he expressed his doubts upon the final issue of an inquiry before a Committee of the House of Commons. This famous contest for Middlesex had caused considerable anxiety throughout the country, and a party of us, amongst whom was Mr. Fox, used to assemble daily on the arrival of the post at the library, to hear the state of the poll. This election had been carried on fifteen days with unabating enthusiasm. Sir Francis Burdett was backed by all the men and women of the county possessing liberal principles; he had besides an immensely long purse, the contents of which were lavished upon his partizans with an unsparing hand. _Ninety-four thousand pounds_ was the price of the two elections, which came out of his own pocket; besides all the gratuitous assistance that he received from his friends and partizans. Mr. Mainwaring was the treasurer of the county; his father was the chairman of the County Quarter Sessions. The father had been rendered by a committee of the House incapable of sitting in that Parliament, he having been convicted of treating during the previous election. The son, therefore, a mere clerk to the magistrates, was set up against Sir Francis; this son being a man without the slightest pretensions to a seat in Parliament for a rotten borough, and much less for the county of Middlesex, either as a man of fortune, a man of rank, or a man of talent. In fact, it was a ministerial contest against Sir Francis Burdett; most of the partizans of Mr. Mainwaring declaring, at the time, that they voted _against Sir Francis_, and not for Mainwaring. I was one of those who thought that this was a great triumph in the cause of liberty, and I was therefore excessively rejoiced that Sir Francis Burdett should have been successful against all the magistracy, and all the ministerial aristocracy of the metropolitan county. But now, when I look back, and read the speeches of the Honourable Baronet, I only feel surprised that I could have been such a dupe as to expect that any real benefit would ever arise to the people from his exertions. All his promises, all his protestations, I now perceive to have been general; there was nothing in them specific and tangible. The great cry raised against Sir F. Burdett’s principles at that time was, that he had been the associate of the traitors _Despard_ and _O’Connor_. This was most infamous, and was resented by every upright and honest freeholder in the county. The Baronet was evidently the most popular candidate; but what gave the greatest _eclat_ to his election was the lavish expenditure of his cash to bribe the electors. Henry Clifford was his counsel, and he himself was a host.
The newspapers of the next day, however, brought us an account which blasted all the sanguine hopes that we had entertained the day before. At the final end of the scrutiny the Sheriff declared the numbers on the poll to be the same as they were the day before, at three o’clock, and these were the numbers by which he ought to decide the election. They were as follow: for Mr. Mainwaring, 2828–for Sir Francis Burdett, 2823–and Mr. Mainwaring was of course declared duly elected by a majority of five votes. Thus ended this great political contest, in which so much money was spent, and of which _drunkenness, riot, bribery_, and _perjury_, were the most prominent characteristics. On the 29th of October, one of the most atrocious acts of tyranny, robbery, and lawless plunder, took place, which ever disgraced the character of any nation, namely, the British navy captured three Spanish frigates, with upwards of _three millions_ of dollars on board. This unparalleled act of aggression was committed upon the property of Spain, a nation with whom England was at peace, and this plunder was what is called _Droits of the Admiralty_, which is claimed by the crown; so that, when the crown chooses to become a robber upon the high seas, and plunders a state to enrich itself, the people of England are called upon to spill their best blood in defending an act which, if committed in common life, would entitle the robber to a halter.
Soon after this, by way of retaliation, Buonaparte caused Sir George Rumbold, a British Minister, to be seized at Hamburgh, by a detachment of French soldiers, who carried him off to France. The law of nations was, in fact, set at naught by all the Belligerent Powers; in most cases the weakest went to the wall. The English Ministers violated every known and heretofore received principle of the law of nations. Buonaparte always took care to retaliate in the most prompt and decisive manner; and thus the subjects of both powers were at once rendered the sport and the victims of their tyrannical rulers. There was no safety in neutral territories, nor any safeguard in the hitherto acknowledged law of nations. The conspiracy formed by the English Ministers to assassinate Napoleon was detected, and all their agents, who were concerned in so hellish a plot, were exposed and denounced by every civilized state in Europe. Moreau was banished to America; Pichegru strangled himself in prison; Georges and D’Enghien were executed; Drake had a narrow escape with his life; Captain Wright cut his own throat in a French prison; and thus the whole conspiracy was as completely frustrated, and its agents as completely punished, as were the agents of the Cato-street conspiracy: both of them were got up by the same parties, and the only difference was, that the former was ten times more atrocious than the latter.
The King and the Prince of Wales, who had been long at variance, had a meeting on the 12th of November, 1804, when a reconciliation took place between them. Every body now expected to hear that the Prince’s Debts were soon to be paid off. About this time there were great discussions relative to who had the legal care and education of the Princess Charlotte of Wales; and while in London the English Ministers and the Opposition were squabbling about this mighty concern, the coronation of Napoleon by the Pope, took place in Paris, where he was crowned Emperor of France.
I trust that my introducing these events, as they occurred, will not be deemed superfluous by the reader. I do it, because it is my intention, as it has been all along, to give a brief history of the political occurrences of my own time, and within my own recollection. It is, I think, not unadvisable to put upon record some of the transactions of the English Ministers for the last twenty years, and dispassionately place them in their true light. At the period when these things were done the public mind was in a state of heat and effervescence –it was in such a fever of political delusion and delirium, that what was written and published at the time, particularly by the diurnal press of the day, instead of enlightening, was calculated only to mislead and deceive the people. Far from recording fairly what was passing in the world of politics, the principal object of the great mass of public writers, and more especially of the conductors of public newspapers, was to _disguise and conceal the truth_; they were all in the pay, or under the influence, of the two great political factions, the Ins and the Outs, the Tories and the Whigs, both interested in keeping the people in the dark. They were both struggling for nothing but place and power; their great end and aim were the same. The watch-word which, notwithstanding their ostensible difference in principles, was common to them, was this–“keep the people in ignorance, or neither of our parties will be able to plunder them.” Therefore, though to the superficial observer, they appeared inveterately hostile to each other, yet I repeat, that they had the same object in view, and this was proved beyond all the possibility of doubt when the Whigs came into power. For twenty long years had Mr. Fox and his party been inveighing against the measures of Mr. Pitt; yet, the moment Mr. Fox and his friends came into place, they not only adopted all the measures of Mr. Pitt, but they even followed up the most obnoxious of those measures towards the people with an unfeeling and arbitrary severity. This being the case, I shall take leave, as I go along, to represent public events in their true colours, in such as they must strike every rational, dispassionate, and unprejudiced mind.
At this period invasion was still the general topic; it was in every person’s mouth, and nothing else was either thought of or talked of. It was the subject of every one’s almost hourly inquiry, both in London and the country, even in the most remote parts. Mr. Cobbett well described it at the time, “a state malady; appearing by fits and starts; sometimes assuming one character, and sometimes another. At last, however, it seems to have settled into a sort of hemorrhage, the patients in Downing-street expectorating pale or red, according to the state of their disease. For some weeks past it has been remarkably vivid; whether proceeding from the heat of the dog-days, or from the quarrellings and fightings, and riotings amongst their volunteers, it would be hard to say, but certain it is, that the symptoms have been of a very alarming complexion for nearly a month.”
Notwithstanding all the terror which was felt, the fact is, that Buonaparte never seriously intended to invade England; but he knew that the gun-boats at Boulogne kept this country in a continual state of tremor, and put it to an enormous expense; it was evidently the policy of France to let us alone, provided that she could keep us in a state of agitation and ferment. It is very curious to observe how well this answered the purpose of Pitt as well as of Napoleon. Mr. Pitt had, in the first instance, to raise the spirit of the country, or rather to delude John Gull, created a false and unfounded alarm of invasion by Buonaparte, long before the latter ever dreamed of it, and the trick succeeded to a miracle. Pitt knew that he could not get such immense sums from the pockets of the people, unless he could work upon their fears; and this gave rise to the bugbear of invasion. John, as was expected, took fright, and the whole country was in consequence thrown into a violent ferment. Volunteer corps and voluntary subscriptions were every where the order of the day; John opened his purse-strings widely, and patiently suffered the rapacious and cunning Minister to dip his griping fist into the treasure as deeply as he thought proper. Napoleon, who had some of the most intelligent men in the world about him, soon discovered the state malady of poor John Gull, and he and his councillors lost not a moment to set about prescribing a dose, which they were sure would increase the nervous fever that had taken possession of the whole country. Their prescription was a very simple one, it merely consisted in ordering gun-boats at Boulogne. Napoleon played Pitt’s own game off to such a tune as he did not expect. Pitt created the alarm to raise taxes; Napoleon fell into the scheme, in order to continue the call for taxes upon the pockets of Gull, and to exhaust the resources, and waste the wealth of the country, which at that time appeared to some people to be absolutely inexhaustible. This Boulogne flotilla was therefore a mere playing upon the fears of the people of England, but it was a most ruinous war upon the national finances.
This was the time when the people of England were made drunk, and indeed mad, by the deleterious potions that were administered by Pitt and his colleagues, in the shape of Acts of Parliament, for raising volunteer corps, catamaran schemes, car projects for conveying troops, &c. &c. with every other species of folly and profligacy. The taxes raised this year were little short of SIXTY MILLIONS.–In February the quartern loaf was _eight-pence_; by December it had risen to _one shilling and four pence halfpenny_. Those were rare times for the farmers and the yeomanry; and they did not forget to make their poor neighbours feel their power. This rise in the price of corn was caused by the CORN BILL, which was carried through the House of Commons for the purpose; but its operation was arrested in the House of Lords, till the 15th of November. Mr. Cobbett was still one of the great advocates for war, and he wrote some very able but very mischievous papers, to prove that war did not operate to raise the price of bread, and that for the last fifty years bread had been cheaper in war than in peace. This he did for the purpose of discountenancing and reprobating the cry that had been raised of “_Peace and a large loaf_.” Mr. Cobbett’s Register at this time became a very popular work, and the great talent displayed by the author caused it to be universally read. I, for one, became one of his constant readers and zealous admirers, although I did not agree with many of his doctrines. Notwithstanding the great talent he displayed, and the knowledge in matters of political economy which it was very evident that he possessed, I could never be convinced that war in any way either promoted the freedom or happiness of the people, much less that it ever produced cheap bread, or contributed to the comfort of the poor. I must, however, do Mr. Cobbett the justice to say, that he condemned the Corn Bill, and, in glowing language, boldly and ably pointed out the folly as well as the injustice of Corn Bills, to raise the price of grain. I did not know Mr. Cobbett at that time, but I own that I longed to become acquainted with so celebrated a public writer, who had afforded me so much pleasure in the perusal of his literary works. It will be but doing common justice to him, as well as to myself, to observe here, that I have never failed to read it from that day up to the present hour; and that I have received more pleasure in reading his works, and have derived more information from him, ten times ten-fold, in subjects of political economy, than I ever derived from all the other authors I ever read besides. Mr. Cobbett, at that time, censured in strong terms the volunteer system, and ridiculed their pranks and squabbles with the most cutting irony; for he was at that time the mighty champion of a standing army. Mr. Cobbett had been a soldier, and a zealous, active, and intelligent soldier; therefore, as such, it was not only excusable in him to be an advocate for that system, with which he was so well acquainted, and whose power he so well knew, but his predilection was quite natural. He, however, then little thought what a monster he was nourishing, in the shape of a standing army. Sir Robert Wilson also was bred a soldier; and he also published a pamphlet, addressed to Mr. Pitt, under the title of “An Inquiry into the present State of the Military Force of the British Empire, with a view to its re-organization.” This pamphlet was in favour of a regular army, in preference to the volunteers. In fact, the whole nation was mad; and as drunk with fear now, as they had been in the commencement of the war with France with folly and boasting. We long since began to feel the baneful effects of that war, and we are now tasting its bitter fruits, with all their appalling evils. We have now a standing army in good earnest; and now that army is kept up, in the sixth year of peace, to compel John Gull to pull out of his pocket the last shilling, to pay the interest of that debt, which, in his drunken, insane folly, he suffered his rulers, to borrow, in order, as they first told him, to humble the power of the French Jacobins; a debt which was greatly enhanced to humble Napoleon; and, lastly, it was brought to its climax to restore the Bourbons. The people of England were drunk, wickedly drunk, when they went to war to destroy the principles of liberty in France; for, be it remembered, to their shame, that the people sanctioned this war–they were duped and deceived, it is true, but it was certainly a popular war with the great mass of the people of England.
Being now arrived at the summit of power, Napoleon became more than usually anxious to secure that power. It was his interest, as it had long been his object, to be at peace with England; and in order to secure this desirable object, he wrote a letter to the king of England, with his own hand, offering the fairest terms, and expressing a sincere desire to put an end to the spilling of human blood, and to see the two nations at peace with each other. Common courtesy, and the rules of good breeding, entitled him to an answer. But, instead of this, the Secretary of State merely informed the French Minister, that the King, by treaty, was obliged to act in concert with his allies. As soon as this slight was offered to the Emperor of France, preparations were immediately renewed for invading England. Mr. Pitt finds that his difficulties have increased since his former administration; he therefore makes an effort to strengthen the Government by an union with the Addingtons, and the late Prime Minister is raised to the peerage, by the title of Viscount Sidmouth.
On the 24th of January, 1805, war was declared by England against Spain. In fact, it was absolutely necessary to declare war against Spain, or restore the three frigates and the three million dollars of which we had robbed them; and not choosing to be honest, and do an act of justice to that nation, war was inevitable. I have this moment found a copy of the letter addressed by Napoleon to the King of England, which I will insert, that the rising generation may be able to judge for themselves of the characters and dispositions of the two monarchs, George the Third and Napoleon the First. The letter is as follows:–
“SIR AND BROTHER, _January_ 2, 1805.
“Called to the throne of France by Providence, and by the suffrages of the senate, the people, and the army, my first sentiment is a wish for peace. France and England abuse their prosperity. They may contend for ages; but do their Governments well fulfil the most sacred of their duties, and will not so _much blood, shed uselessly_, and without a view to any end, condemn them in their own consciences? I consider it as no disgrace to make the first step. I have, I hope, sufficiently proved to the world that I fear none of the chances of war; it besides presents nothing that I need to fear; peace is the wish of my heart, but war has never been inconsistent with my glory. I conjure your Majesty not to deny yourself the happiness of giving peace to the world, nor to leave that sweet satisfaction to your children: for certainly there never was a more favourable opportunity, nor a moment more favourable to silence all passions, and listen only to the sentiments of humanity and reason. This moment once lost what end can be assigned to a war which all my efforts will not be able to terminate. Your Majesty has gained more within ten years, both in territory and riches, than the whole extent of Europe. Your nation is at the highest point of prosperity; what can it hope from war? To form a coalition with some powers of the Continent? The Continent will remain tranquil; a coalition can only increase the preponderance and continental greatness of France. To renew intestine troubles? The times are no longer the same. To destroy our finances? Finances founded on a flourishing agriculture can never be destroyed. To take from France her colonies? The colonies are to France only a secondary object; and does not your Majesty already possess more than you know how to preserve? If your Majesty would but reflect, you must perceive that the war is without an object, without any presumable result to yourself. Alas! what a melancholy prospect to cause two nations to fight merely for the sake of fighting. The world is sufficiently large for our two nations to live in it, and reason is sufficiently powerful to discover means of reconciling every thing, when the wish for reconciliation exists on both sides. I have, however, fulfilled a sacred duty, and one which is precious to my heart. I trust your Majesty will believe in the sincerity of my sentiments, and my wish to give you every proof of it, &c.
“NAPOLEON.”
Instead of his Majesty, George the Third, writing an answer to this pacific letter from the Emperor Napoleon, a letter was written by Lord Mulgrave, addressed to M. Talleyrand, the French Minister, couched in equivocal terms, and which concluded by saying that his Britannic Majesty had no power to act for himself, and that he could do nothing without consulting with his allies upon the Continent. After this conciliatory epistle from the Emperor of France, and the answer, or rather the failure of an answer, from his Britannic Majesty, no one that reads this letter of the Emperor Napoleon and the answer of Lord Mulgrave will ever believe or say that Napoleon was the cause of the continuance of the war. What oceans of blood might have been spared if the King of England, if George the Third, had accepted this liberal and candid offer of peace and reconciliation from Napoleon!
The reign of George the Third may, with the greatest propriety, be called the bloodiest reign in the annals of history. If his Majesty felt that he, having the power, neglected such an opportunity, that he threw away the delightful pleasure of sparing the lives of his fellow creatures, of stopping the effusion of human blood, if he felt this, I for one do not wonder at his Majesty’s illness–the bare reflection was more than enough to drive any man out of his senses, to have distracted the strongest brain. Oh God! what a reflection! The pages of British history from that hour, that fatal hour, when the answer was written by Lord Mulgrave, dictated by the hand of a cold-blooded policy, from that hour, I say, the pages of history have been tarnished; blood having been shed, which, by a more humane policy, might have been prevented.
Let us now return to our domestic politics. At length a Committee of the House of Commons declared that George Bolton Mainwaring was not duly elected, and ought not to have been returned for the county of Middlesex; but that Sir Francis Burdett was duly elected, and ought to have been returned. This was a sad blow for the saints, who were the principal supporters of Mr. Mainwaring. Sir Francis Burdett now took his seat, out of which he had been unjustly kept at the beginning of the Sessions by the temporising and partial conduct of the sheriffs of the county of Middlesex.
At this time, in March, 1805, the tenth report of the commissioners of naval inquiry was laid before the House of Commons, which report implicated _Lord Melville_ and _Mr. Trotter_ in the crime of defrauding the public of the monies entrusted to them, intended to discharge those accounts as connected with the office of Treasurer of the Navy, an office held by my Lord Melville. Trotter, Lord Melville’s deputy, who had a salary of no more than 800_l_. a year, was found to have increased his funded property since 1791, a period of fourteen years, to _eleven thousand three hundred and eight pounds one shilling_ PER ANNUM!!–Lord Melville, on his examination before the commissioners, being asked, _upon his oath_, “whether Mr. Trotter had ever applied any of the naval money for his (Lord Melville’s) benefit or advantage?”–_he refused to answer_, for fear of _criminating himself_. What came out upon this inquiry before the _Commissioners_ of _Naval Inquiry_, now absorbed the whole of the public attention, and caused an universal sensation throughout the country. This said Lord Viscount Melville was that Henry Dundas, Esq. who was formerly a Lawyer in Edinburgh, became Lord Advocate of Scotland during the American war, and a strong supporter of Lord North’s administration; was then made Treasurer of the Navy at the same epoch that Mr. Pitt first became Chancellor of the Exchequer, in Lord Shelburn’s administration; again became Treasurer of the Navy in the administration of Mr. Pitt, in 1784; then became President of the Board of Controul for India affairs, and afterwards Secretary of State for the War Department, retaining all the _three offices_ in his own person till the year 1800, when he gave up the Treasurership of the Navy, still keeping fast hold of the other two offices till he resigned, together with Mr. Pitt and the rest of that Ministry, in the month of March, 1801. This same Henry Dundas, who was again brought into place by Mr. Pitt, and put in greater power than ever, was, on the 8th of April, 1805, degraded by a censure of the House of Commons, inflicted by a solemn vote, on the motion of Mr. Whitbread, who brought the affair before them with great manliness, ability, and perseverance. The eleventh resolution moved by Mr. Whitbread, and carried by a majority of the House against all the influence and exertions of Mr. Pitt, was as follows–“That the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Melville, having been privy to, and connived at, the withdrawing from the Bank of England, for purposes of private interest or emolument, sums issued to him as Treasurer of the Navy, and placed to his account in the Bank, according to the provisions of the 25th of Geo. III. chap. 31, has been guilty of a gross violation of the law, and a high breach of duty.”
Public meetings were on this occasion held all over the kingdom, calling for a rigid inquiry into the conduct of Lord Melville, and petitions were presented by the electors of Westminster, the Lord Mayor, Aldermen and Citizens of London, the electors of Southwark, from Salisbury, from the county of Surrey, city of York, the counties of Norfolk, Hants, Hereford, Bedford, Berks, Northumberland, Cornwall, Essex, &c. &c. against Lord Melville.
A county meeting was called for Wilts, at Devizes. I had myself written to the old Marquis of Lansdown, proposing to sign a requisition to the Sheriff, which his Lordship immediately complied with; but our High Sheriff, Sir Richard Colt Hoare, took _that opportunity_ to take a trip into Wales, or some part of the West, without leaving any orders at home where his public or private letters were to be forwarded to him. In consequence of this circumstance, our county meeting was delayed three weeks or a month, and before it could be held, articles of impeachment were exhibited and agreed to by the House of Commons against Lord Melville. The meeting, however, having been at length advertised by the High Sheriff, to be held at the Town Hall at Devizes, a great number of freeholders assembled, and amongst that number were myself, Mr. Hussey and Lord Folkstone, the two members for Salisbury. In consequence of the decision of the House of Commons, to impeach Lord Melville, Mr. Hussey and Lord Folkstone recommended, that there should not be any petition sent up from the county of Wilts, because it would be prejudging the question before the House. Finding that no petition was to be submitted to the meeting, I sat down and drew up some resolutions, expressive of the indignation of the freeholders at the conduct of Lord Melville, and their approval of that of Mr. Whitbread. Amongst the number was a censure upon the High Sheriff, for his delay in calling the meeting, and his gross negligence in being absent from the county at such an important period. It was here that, for the first time, I addressed my brother freeholders at a county meeting. Mr. Collins, of Salisbury, seconded my resolutions, and they were carried by acclamation; but in consequence of the earnest entreaties of the venerable Mr. Hussey, who was the father of the House of Commons at that time, backed by those of his colleague, I, being young in politics, was prevailed upon to withdraw my vote of censure upon the conduct of the Sheriff, after having heard from him an explanation and an apology.
This was my first public entry into political life. I had always borne the character of an independent country gentleman; but I had never taken any decisive part publicly in politics till this occasion. I was very successful in my maiden speech, as it might so be called, for which I was highly complimented by Mr. Hussey and by Lord Folkestone. But, as I said before, by compliments and by flattery they wheedled me out of the main jet of my resolutions. The fact was, that my resolutions were too sweeping, as they cut at the Whigs as well as the Ministers. They contained a general condemnation of all peculations and peculators; and Mr. Hussey, as well as Lord Folkestone, who was a very young man and a very poor orator at that time, were neither more nor less than Whigs: it was therefore necessary, by a _ruse de guerre_, to get rid of my resolutions, which they found I was sure to carry, by a large majority of the meeting. The public spirit evinced by the Wiltshire freeholders was, however, an earnest of their future patriotic disposition to take the liberal side of the question in public matters, whenever they might again be brought upon the carpet.
On the 25th of May, three men, who had falsely sworn themselves freeholders of Middlesex, to vote for the popular candidate, were, upon conviction, sentenced to seven years’ transportation each. On the 26th of May the Emperor Napoleon was crowned King of Italy at Milan.
On the 13th June, 1805, a resolution was passed by the House of Commons, and that the fullest House that ever was known, for ordering the Attorney-General to commence, in the Court of King’s Bench, a criminal prosecution against Lord Melville, for having used the public money for private purposes. This resolution of the Honourable House gave universal satisfaction to the people throughout the country. The examination of Mr. Pitt before the committee excited general interest, and nothing else was talked of or thought of in the political world. His shuffling, equivocating testimony, so much resembles what has been going on, during the last ten weeks, within these walls, that I will here insert some of his answers before the committee. It will be recollected that Mr. Pitt was a man who, whenever it suited his purpose, did, with a most surprising power of memory, revert to all the arguments and opinions of his adversaries, for a space of time, comprising his whole political life; not with _doubt, hesitation, or embarrassment_, but with the most direct, unqualified, and positive assertion. The following were his answers before the committee.
Answers. Times.
He _thinks_, &c…………… 6
He _rather thinks_……….. 2
He _thinks to that effect_… 1
He _thinks he understood_. 1
He _conceives_ …………… 7
He _believes_ ……………… 8
He _rather believes_ ……… 1
He _believes he heard_ …… 1
He _understood_ ………… 3
He _understood it generally_ ………………… 2
He _was satisfied_ ……… 1
He _was not able to ascertain_ …………………… 1
He _can only state the substance_ …………………. 1
He _did not recollect_ (Non mi ricordo!) …………. 9
He _really did not recollect_ 1
Answers. Times.
He had _no recollection_… . 1
Did _not know_ from _his own knowledge_ …………… 3
Did _not know_ that it _occurred to him_ ……….. 1
Was not in his _contemplation_ …………………… 1
Did not _occur to his mind_ 1
No _impression was _left on his mind_ …………….. 1
He could _not say_ ……… 2
He could not _undertake to say_………………….. 2
He could not _speak with certainty_ …………….. 1
He could not _speak positively_ …………………. 1
He could not state the _substance very generally_.. 1
ANSWERS. TIMES.
He did not at _present recollect_ ……………… 2 He could not _recollect with precision_ ………… 2 He could not _recollect at this distance of time_ .. 1 He could not _recollect with certainty_ ………… 1 His _recollection did not enable him_ ………….. 1 To the _best of his recollection_ ……………… 4 As _well as he could recollect_ ……………….. 2 Could not _pretend to recollect_ ………………. 1 Not able to _recollect at this distance of time_ … 1 He had a _general recollection_ ……………….. 4 He could _not state with accuracy_ …………….. 3 He could not state _precisely_ ………………… 3 He could assign _no specific reason_ …………… 1 He did not _know_ ……………………………. 2 Not that he _knew of_ ………………………… 2 He had no means of _forming a judgment_ ………… 1 He did not _think_ …………………………… 1 He had no _knowledge_ ………………………… 2 He could not _judge_ …………………………. 1 _Probably_ ………………………………….. 1 He was _led to suppose_ ………………………. 1 He was _led to believe_ ………………………. 1 He was _persuaded_ …………………………… 1 He _learnt_ …………………………………. 1 He _heard surmises_ to that effect …………….. 1
ABSTRACT.
He thinks, rather thinks, or thinks he understood …………… 10 He conceives ……………………………………………. 7 He believes, rather believes, &c. …………………………. 10 He understood, was satisfied, &c. …………………………. 6 Not able to ascertain, could only state the substance ……….. 2 Did not recollect, to the best of his recollection, &c. ……… 31 He could not say, speak with certainty, &c. ………………… 6 Did not occur to his mind, &c. ……………………………. 7 He could not state with accuracy, precision, &c. ……………. 7 He had no knowledge, not led to believe, to suppose, &c. …….. 16 I am _perfectly convinced_ ……………………………….. 1 No, I believe it impossible ………………………………. 1 ___
104
Now it is almost impossible to imagine that a witness could have made such answers to 104 questions, unless he deliberately and pertinaciously meant to conceal and withhold the truth by equivocating.
Mr. Pitt’s memory, be it observed, was equally bad and treacherous upon the trial of poor old Hardy, the shoemaker, and Mr. Horne Tooke. He _then_ could not recollect any thing that was likely to tell in favour of the prisoners: when their exculpation was likely to be the result of a plain honest answer, “_Non mi ricordo_” was his reply. That Mr. Pitt had connived at the peculations of Lord Melville, was clearly proved; and also that he had lent _Boyd and Benfield_, two ministerial Members of the Honourable House of Commons, 40,000_l_. of the public money, without interest. These transactions being made known by means of Mr. Whitbread’s exertions in Parliament, the public mind was in a violent ferment. Petitions were poured in from all parts of the country against the conduct of Lord Melville, and the people were delighted at the resolution passed by the House, ordering the Attorney-General to commence criminal proceedings against him in the Court of King’s Bench. But they were very much mortified at the notice of the motion given by Mr. Leicester, on the 25th, for the rescinding the resolution passed on the 13th of June, and thus to do away with the vote of the House on that night, in order to substitute an impeachment of Lord Melville, instead of the criminal prosecution.
On the twenty-sixth of June, an impeachment was ordered by a vote of the House, instead of a criminal prosecution. This was considered, by every honest man in the country, to be a measure adopted for the purpose of screening the newly made _noble delinquent_. Mr. Cobbett took up the discussion of these proceedings, with his accustomed zeal and ability; and his Weekly Political Register was universally read, not only in the metropolis, but all over the kingdom. His clear, perspicuous, and forcible reasoning upon this transaction, convinced every one who read the Register; he proved to demonstration that Mr. Pitt had been privy to and connived at his friend Lord Melville’s delinquency, and it was made evident, to the meanest understanding, that the public money had been constantly used for private purposes, and to aggrandize the Minister’s tools and dependants.
This was a mortal blow to Mr. Pitt, and it is with great truth said that this was the primary cause of his death. His friends had always cried up his integrity and disinterestedness, and his total disregard of wealth. This was very true as to himself; but he aggrandized all his friends and supporters; every tool of his ambition grew rich and fattened upon the public money; and having carried on this trade for so many years, and to be caught out in this barefaced fraud at last, I believe went far towards breaking his heart; I am sure he never well recovered it. To be detected in lending _Boyd and Benfield_, two Members of Parliament, 40,000_l_. of the public money, without interest, was bad enough: but for that he had impudence enough to offer something like an excuse; and lame as that excuse was, yet he obtained a bill of indemnity for his violation of his duty. But to have connived at Sawney’s tricks, and to be detected in it, was too much for his proud spirit to bear! He was, however, determined at all hazards to screen and protect him from punishment; and hence the House was surprised into a vote, to rescind the solemn decision of the House for Lord Melville to be criminally prosecuted by the Attorney-General, little Master Perceval. Oh! what shuffling and cutting there was amongst the Minister’s tools in the Honourable House; but Mr. Whitbread was made of too stubborn stuff to be driven from his purpose!
In the meanwhile, the whole country was alive to the transaction, and watched with a scrutinizing eye every step that was taken by the wily Minister, who was beset in every quarter. Mr. Cobbett contributed more than any other individual to bring this nefarious affair fully before the public eye. As I had taken a conspicuous part at the Wiltshire County Meeting, I called on Mr. Cobbett the first time that I went to London after it had occurred, as I was desirous to obtain a personal interview with a man who had afforded me so much pleasure by his writings, and who had given me weekly so much useful information as to politics and political economy. He lived in Duke-Street, Westminster, where, on my arrival, I sent in my name. I was shown into a room unfurnished, and, as far as I recollect, without a chair in it. After waiting sometime, the great political writer appeared; a tall robust man, with a florid face, his hair cut quite close to his head, and himself dressed in a blue coat and scarlet cloth waistcoat; and as it was then very hot weather, in the middle of the summer, his apparel had to me a very singular appearance. I introduced myself as a gentleman from Wiltshire, who had taken a lead at the county meeting, the particulars of which I had forwarded to him. He addressed me very _briefly_, and very _bluntly_, saying that “we must persevere, and we should bring all the scoundrels to justice.” He never asked me to _sit down_; but that might have arisen from there being no other seat in the room except the floor.
I departed not at all pleased with the interview. I had made up my mind for a very different sort of man; and, to tell the truth, I was very much disappointed by his appearance and manners, and mortified at the cool reception which he gave me. As I walked up Parliament-Street, I mused upon the sort of being I had just left, and I own that my calculations did not in the slightest degree lead me to suppose that we should ever be upon such friendly terms, and indeed upon such an intimate footing, as we actually were for a number of years afterwards. It appeared to me, that at our first meeting we were mutually disgusted with each other; and I left his house with a determination in my own mind never to seek a second interview with him. I thought that of all the men I ever saw, he was the least likely for me to become enamoured of his society. The result was, nevertheless, quite the reverse; we lived and acted together for many years with the most perfect cordiality; and I believe that two men never lived that more _sincerely, honestly_, and _zealously_, advocated public liberty than we did, hand in hand, for eight or ten years. Although, perhaps, it would be impossible to pick out two men more different, in many respects, than we are to each other; yet, in pursuing public duty for so many years together, there never were two men who went on so well together, and with such trifling difference of opinion, as occurred between Mr. Cobbett and myself. It was, however, some years after this, before we became intimate. I constantly read his Political Register with unabated admiration and delight, for even at this time he far surpassed every other political writer, in my opinion.
At this period, 1805, many volunteers having refused to pay their fines for not attending their drills, under an idea that it was not compulsory, the magistrates decided that they were legally liable, and compelled them to pay their arrears.
On the 31st of August, the old humbug of invasion having been again played off by Buonaparte, Sir Sidney Smith attacked the flotilla off Boulogne, by means of catamarans, but with very trifling success, he having done but very little mischief to the enemy.
On the 8th of September, hostilities commenced once more between Austria and France; and, on the 2d of October, the success of the French arms began, by the defeat of the Austrians at Guntzburgh, and was followed up by the action of Wirtingen on the 6th. On the 7th, the French army defeated the Austrians on the Danube; and on the 14th, Memmingen surrendered to the French. On the 16th, six thousand Austrians surrendered to Soult; and, on the 17th, Ulm was surrendered to the French by the Austrian General Mack. On the 19th, the Austrian army was again defeated near Ulm by the French; on the same day the Battle of Elchingen was fought, where the Austrians were again routed; and on the 20th, the French forces in Italy passed the Adige. Werneck surrendered with 15,000 men to Murat.
As a counterbalance to the wonderful uninterrupted success of the French arms on the continent, Lord Nelson defeated the French and Spanish fleets, off Trafalgar, on the 21st of October. In this matchless naval engagement, the English sailors under Nelson took and destroyed twenty-four ships of the enemy; in which action the brave Admiral fell. This splendid victory of Lord Nelson’s roused for a time the drooping spirits of the English Ministers, who had before been almost overwhelmed by the news of the repeated and uninterrupted success of the French troops over the Austrians; and as the Russian army had now joined them, the enemies of the French boasted that the campaign would end in favour of the allied armies of Austria and Russia. On the 31st of October, however, the French defeated the Austrians once more on the Adige. Sweden now joined the Austrians and Russians, and declared war against France. On the 10th of November, the Austrians were again defeated by the French at _Moelk_. On the 11th, Marshal Mortier defeated the Russians; and on the 13th, the French army entered VIENNA. On the 16th, the French defeated the Russians at Gunstersdorff; and on the 2d of December, the memorable and decisive battle of _Austerlitz_ was fought, where the combined armies of Austria and Russia were signally defeated, and routed with immense loss. On the 6th of the same month, Austria sued for an armistice, which was granted by Napoleon; and on the 26th, Napoleon compelled her to sign a treaty of peace at Presburg; upon which occasion he bestowed the title of King upon the Electors of Bavaria and Wirtemburgh, the latter of whom was the husband of the Princess Royal of England, and elevated her to the rank of Queen of Wirtemburgh. Thus did our most powerful enemy raise one of the Royal Family of England from the rank of a petty Electress to the rank of Queen; and, under all the circumstances, this was a very remarkable event. On the 27th of the same month Buonaparte caused his brother Joseph to be crowned King of Naples. This wonderful man now had at his command all the crowned heads of Europe. He made Kings and Queens with as much ease, and with as little concern, as ginger bread dolls are made for a country fair. The proud, haughty tyrant, the Emperor of Germany, was at his feet, and Alexander trembled and obeyed his nod. The fortune of war was, during the campaign, most propitious to Napoleon; he beat the enemy in every quarter, and success attended every movement of his armies: to be sure, his different corps were commanded by the most intelligent, brave, and renowned generals in the universe; such as never before adorned any age or country.
The death of Nelson, at the battle of Trafalgar, although it did not detract from the brilliancy of the victory, was, nevertheless, a great drawback upon the pleasure that the news would have otherwise afforded to the country; for every individual laid aside, on this occasion, all feelings of political hostility, forgot his errors and his crimes as a politician and a man, and lamented the loss of the hero. No one will ever dispute Nelson’s cool, determined presence of mind, in the midst of danger and the greatest difficulties; he possessed this admirable quality in a super-eminent degree. His presence of mind, which never deserted him in the midst of danger, is the sure indication of real courage; and this merit will be freely conceded to Nelson, even by those who abhorred his political subserviency.
Mr. Pitt severely felt the loss of the gallant admiral; and what with the detection and exposure which was made by the 10th Report of the Naval Commissioners, and the disgrace that was consequently brought not only upon himself and his bosom friend Lord Melville, but upon the whole of his administration; and what with the repeated and signal success of Napoleon and the French armies in Germany, the health of the Heaven-born Minister was so affected that he was obliged to go to Bath for his recovery. I shall never forget my seeing him leave York House, with his friend, about 10 o’clock in the morning on the very day that he received the dispatches of the news of the battle of Austerlitz. He walked down Melsom-street smiling and laughing with his friend, on their way to the Pump-room. In the mean time the dispatches arrived express, and were delivered to him there, as I learned afterwards. I met him again, walking down Argyll-street, in his way home to his lodgings, in Laura-place. I observed the alteration in his countenance, and remarked to my friend, with whom I was walking, _”that some bad tidings had arrived; that Mr. Pitt looked as if he had received his DEATH-BLOW.”_ If he had been shot through the body, the alteration in his countenance and manner could not have been more evident; he could scarcely _reel along_ as he leaned upon the arm of his friend; his head hung down upon his chest, and he looked more dead than alive. In ten minutes after this I arrived at the Library. The mail had brought the papers, which confirmed the news of the complete overthrow of the combined Russian and Austrian armies at the battle of Austerlitz. Mr. Pitt returned to town, and I believe that he never left his house afterwards. Such an accumulation of difficulties and disasters was too much for his already shaken mind to support, and his death, I believe, was caused thereby. He never held his head fully up after the vote of the House, which declared his friend Lord Melville to have been guilty of _”a gross violation of the law, and a high breach of duty.”_ He made every personal effort in his power, and used his all-powerful interest to prevail upon a majority of his tools in the House to agree to the amendment which he proposed to substitute, in the stead of the above important and convincing declaration; namely, he moved to leave out the words “_gross violation of the law, and a high breach of duty_,” and insert in lieu of them, the words “_contrary to the “intention of the law_.” But the Ministerial Members of that Honourable House, corrupt as Pitt had made them, scouted his motion; his own tools voted against him, and he and his friend Melville were left in a minority upon his own dunghill. This was too much for his haughty, stubborn spirit to bear. To be handed down to posterity, so deservedly covered with the infamous charge of having connived at peculation; for the _Heaven-born Minister_ to have been defeated, and convicted _of having winked at the plundering of the people_, and betraying his sovereign, who had confided to his hands the guardianship of their treasure, was too much even for his impudent, overbearing spirit to support; and he lingered out the remainder of his existence, and descended to the grave a wretched example of bloated pride, and detected mal-administration.
The public were greatly indebted to Mr. Whitbread for his exposure of these delinquencies in Parliament; but they were much more indebted to Mr. Cobbett, for his unwearied exertions, his able, clear, and perspicuous expositions of the whole of the transactions, which were published in his Weekly Political Register; which Register was universally read, with the greatest avidity, from one end of the kingdom to the other.
The Parliament was prorogued to the 21st of January, 1806, and meanwhile no exertions were spared by the Opposition, or Whigs, to keep the public feeling alive, as to the delinquency of Lord Melville, and to prepare them for his impeachment at the next meeting of the Parliament. The people of England had never thought for themselves, but had been hitherto made the puppets of the two great contending factions of the state, the Whigs and the Tories, alternately taking part sometimes with one and sometimes with the other; and the great object of these factions appeared to be always to join in keeping the people in a state of ignorance, and that faction that could best dupe and deceive _John Gull_ was sure to be in place and power. The Pitt faction had succeeded in this their amiable occupation for a great length of time. In the years 1793 and 1794, they had so contrived to addle the brains of the multitude that their heads had been wool-gathering ever since; their vision had been then so mystified, and their brains had been so confused by the mountebank tricks of Pitt and his associates, that nothing but the pen of a Cobbett could bring them to their right senses again.
I was a constant reader of Cobbett’s Register, and although, as I have said, I had been rather disgusted with the man at my first interview with him, yet I was quite enraptured with the beautiful productions of his pen, dictated by his powerful mind. I was become a professed politician; I had imbibed the sentiments of Lord Bolingbroke, that “the Constitution of England is the business of every Englishman.” I therefore made politics my study, and I looked for Cobbett’s Register with as much anxiety as I had heretofore looked to the day and hour that the fox-hounds were to meet; and if by any accident the post did not bring the Weekly Register, I was just as much disappointed, and felt as much mortified, as I had previously felt at being disappointed or deprived of a good fox-chase. I beg it to be understood, however, that I by no means had given up the sports of the field, which I enjoyed with as great a zest as I ever did; but when I returned from the pleasures of the chase, or retired from the field with my dogs and my gun, instead of spending the remainder of my time in routs, balls, and plays, in drinking or carousing with bacchanalian parties, I devoted my leisure hours to reading and studying the history of my country, and the characters of its former heroes and legislators, as compared with those of that day. No man enjoyed more domestic happiness than I did; my home was always rendered delightful by its inmates studying to make each other comfortable; and thus, instead of its being a scene of strife and quarrelling, as the homes of some of my friends were, it was quite the reverse; let me be occupied abroad how or where I would, I always returned to my home with pleasure; and the certainty of being received with open arms and a sincere and gratifying welcome, always made me long for that delight whenever I was absent.
The poor had felt considerable relief by the fall in the price of bread, since the commencement of the year, when the quartern loaf was as high as one shilling and four-pence half-penny; but it had now fallen to ten-pence. The misery that had been entailed upon the poor during the winter of 1804-5, in consequence of the enormous price of all sorts of provisions, was most heart-rending and revolting to the feelings of every one possessing a particle of humanity. I did every thing that lay in my power to relieve the wants and sooth the sorrows of my poor neighbours in the parish of Enford; I took care that my own servants should not want any of the common necessaries of life, but numerous little comforts, and hitherto esteemed necessaries, were, however reluctantly, obliged to be dispensed with.
I saw with pain a sad falling off in the character of the labouring poor; they were for the most part become paupers, while those who still had the spirit, and the pride to keep from the parish book were suffering the most cutting penury, and the greatest privations. I have often witnessed the contending struggles of a poor but high-spirited labourer, and seen him submitting to the most pinching want before his honourable feelings would allow him to apply for parish relief; himself, his wife and children, almost driven to a state bordering upon starvation, before he could bring his mind to admit the degrading idea of asking for parochial alms. Many and many is the half-crown that I have slipped unobserved into the hand of such a man, to enable him the better to overcome the hardships of winter; with the fond, but futile hope, that the next harvest might enable him to surmount his difficulties, and with the fruit of his honest labour procure bread to stop the mouths of his half-starved wife and children. My means had been greatly curtailed by the cursed brewery at Clifton, which was a perpetual drain upon my purse; for all that I acquired by the good management of my farms was devoured by the calls made from the brewery. This rendered me less able to assist my poorer neighbours; but I have the consolation to reflect, that I did my best.
A Bill, which has been lately before the House of Commons, to protect dumb animals from the brutal treatment of more brutal man, reminds me of an occurrence or two that happened to myself, and which, in justice to my character, ought not to be omitted. As I was riding to my farm at Widdington, one summer’s day, with the Reverend William White, the present Rector of Teffont, in Wiltshire, who was on a visit at my house at Chisenbury, we perceived a brute, in the shape of a man, belabouring with a large stick a poor ass, who had sunk down under the weight of his load, a large heavy bag of ruddle. Exhausted by the heat of a meridian sun, the poor beast lay prostrate upon the ground, totally deprived of the power of rising with his burden upon his back. I sharply rode up, and warmly remonstrated with the huge two-legged brute upon his inhumanity, and offered to assist him in unloading the beast, to enable him to rise, and to help him to reload the animal after he had risen. This was rudely refused, and with an oath I was desired to mind my own business; while the fellow continued, in a most unmerciful manner, to beat the wretched unresisting beast upon a raw place on the upper end of his tail. Exasperated at the fellow’s brutality, I rode up to him, and having seized his bludgeon, as he was brandishing it in the air about to apply it once more to the already lacerated rump of the poor ass, with an effort of strength I wrenched the bludgeon from the inhuman monster’s hand, and threw it with great violence sixty or seventy yards over the hedge, into an adjoining corn-field. Gnashing his teeth with rage at being deprived of his implement of torture, and determined to be revenged for my interference, the ruffian immediately drew out a large clasp knife from his pocket, and seizing the ass by the tail, and exclaiming, “I will show you that I have a right to do what I please with my own beast,” he instantly cut off his tail within two inches of his rump, and with savage ferocity he began kicking the wounded part with all his might, with a pair of thick-topped shoes. This was too much for me to witness, without making an effort to relieve the wretched animal, and punish its brutal master. I sprung from my saddle, and having consigned my horse to the care of my acquaintance, the parson, I flew to rescue the poor beast from its inhuman tormentor. The ruffian instantly turned to meet me, and having raised the clasp knife in a menacing attitude, he swore, with the most blasphemous imprecations, that he would plunge it into my heart, if I approached him another inch. My friend, the parson, urged me to forbear; but, keeping my eye steadily fixed upon that of the monster, while his hand was still raised with the bloody knife suspended, I gave him, as quick as lightning, a blow from my fist, which took the villain under the left ear, levelled him with the earth, and made him bite the dust. The knife fell from his hand, and I instantly seized it, and before the two-legged brute, who lay stunned upon the ground, could rise, I cut the girth which bound the load upon the back of the ass, and relieved him from his burden. The cowardly ruffian still lay sprawling, fearing to rise, because he dreaded a repetition of my chastisement, which I was most anxious to have given him if he had stood upon his legs; but which I declined to do while he was prostrate. The fellow now began to beg for mercy, and pretended to be very sorry for his conduct. The parson now proposed to give him a severe hiding for his villainous treatment of the poor beast; but as the coward would not get off his breech, but remained seated upon the earth, and declared that he would not get upon his legs while I remained, he saved himself from a severe and well-merited drubbing. He very coolly offered to sell me the mutilated beast, which I instantly purchased for five shillings, to save him from again falling into the hands of his cruel master. I had it sent home, and the greatest care possible was taken of it. But with all my care and attention, the poor thing never recovered from its ill-treatment; it lingered for four or five months and died. This was the only ass I ever was master of in my life; in fact, I always objected to the keeping of an ass, because I could not bear to see the ill-treatment to which they are generally subject.
I could relate several similar instances, wherein I have placed myself in the most imminent peril, urged on by an impetuous abhorrence of tyranny, even when that tyranny is exercised towards a beast. One other instance will, perhaps, induce the reader to think that my detestation of cruelty has often led me not only into acts of indiscretion, but that my rashness upon such occasions has been almost bordering upon criminal enthusiasm. Coming down Newgate Street, one Monday afternoon, I saw a considerable crowd of people surrounding a drover, who held a butcher’s knife in his hand, brandishing it in the air, and threatening any one that might approach him. I inquired the cause of the fellow’s conduct, and his being thus surrounded by the enraged multitude. A beautiful ox was pointed out to me on the other side of the street, which stood trembling ready to drop down. To save himself trouble in driving the beast, the ruffian, who had undertaken to conduct it to Whitechapel for a butcher, had severed the _tendon Achilles_ with his sharp knife; a practice which, I am informed, frequently occurs in London and which is called hamstringing. The populace, men and women, appeared very much enraged against this monster of a drover, and two constables, with their staves, stood ready to seize him; but he kept them and the whole crowd at bay, with the violent brandishing of his knife, and threatening destruction to any one who attempted to meddle with him. Several efforts were made to seize him, which he dexterously avoided. At length, I rushed up to him, and felled him to the earth, with a tremendous and well-directed blow with my fist under the ear. He was immediately seized by the constables, and the knife was taken from him. But I was not to get off quite so easy with him as I did with the ass-driver. The fellow, being disarmed, instantly stripped in buff, and offered to fight the man who had knocked him down. All eyes were fixed upon me, a perfect stranger, and the general exclamation was,–“Have nothing to do with him, Sir;” but, as the constables appeared to doubt whether they had the power to hold him in custody, there being no law against a drover maiming his beast, unless his master disapproved of it; and as I saw the fellow was likely to escape without further punishment, I instantly accepted his offer, and volunteered to punish him myself, urged on by the pitiable appearance of the poor ox, a beautiful animal which had not moved one inch the whole of this time. I therefore imprudently stripped, and having consigned my clothes into the hands of a bye-stander, I set to, and in _three rounds_ I beat my man blind; and having a fourth time knocked him down, without receiving any injury myself, he declined to meet me again. My clothes and watch were honestly returned; and, having replaced them on my back, I departed, receiving the hearty thanks of the surrounding multitude, without being recognised by any one. In fact, I was not at all known in London at that time. I laughed heartily, as an account of it was read the next morning, in the newspapers, while I was at breakfast in the coffee-room, at the Black Lion, Water Lane; the whole party joining in the praises of the man who had chastised the brutal ruffian.
One more circumstance of this sort will, I should think, be quite enough to convince the reader that I was always a determined foe to baseness and cruelty. As I was sitting with some ladies on a hot summer’s day, in a front room of the Fountain Inn, at Portsmouth, with the window open, looking into the High-Street, observing the passing crowd, it being a fair day, we discovered an ill-looking fellow pilfering some articles from the stall of a poor woman opposite. This transaction was also observed by Admiral Montague, the Port Admiral, who was sitting in the adjoining room of the inn, with a friend, amusing himself with observing the passing scene. We hailed the poor woman, who detected the fellow in the fact; but, having dropped the articles on the pavement, he vociferously declared that he had never touched them. A crowd soon collected, particularly of women, and demanded that he should be taken into custody. He drew his knife, (always the ready resort of a coward) and placing his back in a corner against the wall, he set them all at defiance, and for a considerable length of time successfully resisted every attempt to secure him. At last he was, to all appearance, getting the better of his assailants, and by loudly asserting that she had most wrongfully and maliciously accused him, he was absolutely endeavoring to turn the tide of popular indignation against the poor woman who had detected him. The fact was, that the terror excited by his violence overcame the zeal of his accusers; and if it had not been kept up by three or four women, he would not only have escaped with impunity, but he would have turned the tables upon the poor woman whom he had endeavoured to rob. These women, however, kept up an unceasing battery with their tongues, which he at length began to put down by violence, pushing them away with one hand, and threatening them with the upraised knife in the other. This scene lasted nearly a quarter of an hour, and although my fingers itched to punish the ruffian, yet I was restrained by the entreaties of the ladies who were with me. At last he struck one of the women a violent blow, and knocked her down. This drew upon him the execration of the enraged multitude; but no one attempted either to disarm or to seize him. A second blow, inflicted upon a decent looking female, roused my indignation at the cowardice of the bye-standers, and I hastily left the room, crossed the street, and having walked deliberately up to him, pretending to inquire what was the matter, before he was at all aware of my intentions, and just as he was about to relate his story, I, with a well-directed blow, with my fist under the ear, laid him sprawling upon the pavement; his knife was seized, and I left him _unarmed to the care of the Portsmouth ladies_ that surrounded him, who did not fail to punish him with their talons.
As I was passing over the street, on my return to the inn, Admiral Montague, who had witnessed the whole affair, looked out of his window and warmly gave me his personal thanks, for the summary justice which I had inflicted upon the ruffian thief, who had kept the street in an uproar for nearly half an hour. I went back to my party very well satisfied with the exploit I had performed; although I felt so very sensible of the danger I had incurred, that I promised my friends faithfully that I would never again volunteer in such dangerous service. About two hours afterwards, I very unexpectedly received a warrant from Sir John Carter, the Mayor, to attend immediately at his office, to appear to a charge of a violent assault, committed in the public street, &c. &c. I took my hat and attended the Mayor’s officer instantly, without the slightest hesitation; but as the Admiral had left the inn I had no witness with me. I, however, sent the waiter to bring the woman who had been robbed, and one of those who had been assaulted by the ruffian, to follow me to the house of the Mayor; but, almost as soon as I had arrived there, and before the fellow had finished making his charge, in walked the Port Admiral Montague, who having heard the circumstance, came immediately to give evidence of the facts to which he had been an eye-witness from the window of the inn. The gallant Admiral related the circumstances, and passed a high eulogium upon my courage and public spirit, in which he was cordially joined by his friend Sir John Carter; and the fellow, who was a _pot-house_ keeper, from Ryde, in the Isle of Wight, escaped with a very severe reprimand, the poor woman having declined to prosecute him.
If I were not fearful of tiring the reader, I could continue a long chain of _rencontres_ of a similar nature, which occurred to me in my youthful days; but as I have, I think, given quite sufficient to delineate the decisive character of the author at that period, I shall proceed, with other matters; only just observing by the way, that a frequent recurrence of such events obtained for me the name of a _very violent_ young man, though, nineteen times out of twenty my violence was exercised in the cause of humanity; or in protecting and defending the weak and helpless, against the aggressions of the rich and powerful.
Returning from London, in the Ba— mail, on a very severe frosty moonlight night, as we were passing Cranford-bridge, the coachman got one of the hind wheels firmly locked and entangled in that of a heavy brewer’s dray, which gave us a most violent shock and nearly overturned the coach. A plentiful share of the slang abuse, usually arising upon such occasions, passed between the coachman and guard of the mail and the driver and attendant of the dray. The wheel of the coach appeared to be so firmly entangled in that of the dray, that it required a considerable exertion to release it; and the guard was entreating the passengers to assist him. But an Irish officer of dragoons, who was sitting by my side, very coolly answered, that as coachee had got into the scrape he might get out of it again and be d–d. For once in my life I was determined to follow such a selfish example; but, just as I had made up my mind to sit still and enjoy my own ease and comfort, the Irishman, who was looking out of one of the windows of the coach on the opposite side to that where the dray stood, exclaimed “by Jasus there is a fellow fallen from off his horse into the water, and is drowning.” The moon shone almost as bright as day, and, as this happened within half a dozen yards of the coach window, it was perfectly visible to the Irish officer, who still sat perfectly cool, and as unconcerned as possible; observing, as he leant back in the coach, “the fellow is actually gone to the bottom, and I saw the last of him as he sunk.” Till now I really thought the gentleman had merely witnessed the ducking of some one who had fallen into the pond; but this last observation induced me to call loudly to the guard to open the door; and, quite forgetting my determination to follow the officer’s doctrine and example, “to take things coolly and let every one look to himself,” I sprang out of the coach to the edge of the water, where a hat floating thereon was the only visible proof that any one was in the water. The Irishman, however, who still sat snug in the coach, and who never budged an inch, affirmed with an oath that the man had sunk exactly under where the hat was floating. The life of a fellow creature being at stake, cold, calculating prudence was instantly banished from my ardent mind; and, without waiting another moment, I plunged into the water, which I found was beyond my depth, and having swam to the spot, which was only a few yards, I came instantly in contact with the body, which I seized and dragged to the water edge, and, with some difficulty, assisted by the guard, he was hoisted out of the pond. The Irishman had lustily, but perhaps very prudently, ordered the coachman, at his peril, not to leave his horses, although a passenger on the box had the reins in his hand. By this time assistance came from the inn (I think the Crown), kept at that time by a person of the name of Goddard. Amongst the number of those who flocked to witness this distressing scene was a young man, who exclaimed, in a frantic agony of voice and gesture, “_it is my father!_” and he instantly seized the apparently drowned man by the heels, and held him upright, with his head upon the ground, his feet in the air, as he said, to let _the water run out of him_; an old, vulgar, and long exploded practice, which has proved in almost every instance fatal. I expostulated, but in vain; I pitied the agonised feelings of the youth, while I struggled to release his father by force from the fatal posture in which he had, although with the best intention, unguardedly and obstinately placed him. He, however, resisted my efforts with personal violence, in spite of the expostulations of the guard. Seeing that I was likely to have my humane intentions frustrated by the young man’s obstinacy, and, as no time was to be lost, I resorted to my usual _knock-down argument_, and levelled the _son_ with the earth, to save the life of the _father_. This I did so effectually that he was totally incapable of resistance; and, with the aid of the guard, I bore off the drowned man upon my shoulders to the inn, about a hundred yards distant. Dripping wet, and covered with mud, I assisted to strip him before the kitchen fire, and instantly proceeded to use the means recommended by the Humane Society, (and by which means I had once restored to animation a female who had attempted to drown herself). By chafing the body with warm cloths, rubbing in brandy about the heart, applying bottles filled with hot water to his feet, &c. in which the guard manfully and zealously assisted the whole time, declaring that the coach should wait as long for me as I liked, in a very few minutes my labour and exertion was rewarded with symptoms of returning animation, by the twitching of one leg; upon which a fresh hot bottle was applied to his foot; we redoubled our exertion, and in another minute he opened his eyes and became sick. I now left him to the care of his son, the guard, and others, to continue the rubbing, while I went with the landlord and changed my clothes, having remained twenty minutes in the same state in which I had left the water, which being very muddy, I had spoiled at least ten pounds worth of wearing apparel. The landlord, however, furnished me with what I had not got in my trunk.
When I returned down stairs, I perceived my patient, who I was informed was an old post-boy, sitting in the settle of the tap-room, quite recovered; and when I was pointed out to him by his master, as his deliverer from a watery grave, the fellow attacked me in the most violent and abusive manner, and called down horrid imprecations upon my head for having saved him from that end which I now found he had courted, by throwing himself off the horse’s back, with the intention of destroying himself. I was so exasperated with the fellow’s ingratitude that it was with difficulty the landlord and the guard restrained me from inflicting upon him summary chastisement for his insolence; but the conviction of his insanity soon weighed still more powerfully with me to ensure my forbearance than any thing the landlord or the guard could have urged for his protection. At this moment my fellow passenger, who had never before appeared, but who had taken the advantage of this delay to get a comfortable cup of coffee, in a warm parlour, walked in, and began to moralize with me upon the folly “of _troubling myself with other people’s business_;” and, as he did this with a very grave face, it had the desired effect, and I really began to meditate and to calculate which of the two, he or I, was the most extraordinary being; and I was almost disposed to concede to him the palm of being the most rational, a fact of which he appeared thoroughly to be convinced, and in which opinion he was strongly confirmed, after I got into the mail, and related to him the adventure of my having nearly lost my life, a few years before, in saving a female from being drowned in a deep river, on a Monday, who contrived to put an end to her existence and find a watery grave on the following Thursday, in a ditch which contained only eighteen inches of water. We travelled as far as Marlborough together, where we parted; he proceeded to Bath in the mail, and I to my home at Chisenbury, in my curricle. Parliament met on the 21st of January, and on the TWENTY-THIRD DAY OF JANUARY,1806, the Heaven-born Minister, WILLIAM PITT, DIED, at his house at Putney. This man had, for nearly a quarter of a century, reigned triumphant over the people of England with the most despotic and arbitrary sway, by the means of a corrupt majority of a set of boroughmongers, who called themselves and their agents the House of Commons; thus pretending to be the representatives of the people of England, while, in fact, they might as well have been said to represent the people of Algiers as the people of England, a majority of them being returned by _one hundred and fifty-four_ individuals. I may, I believe, venture to give my opinion of the House of Commons, such as it was constituted in the days and reign of Pitt. The banishment act would, of course, preclude me from speaking of the present House of Commons with the same sincerity and freedom; therefore, whether there be any resemblance in the present House of Commons to that of the House as it was constituted in the reign of Pitt, I must leave for the determination of those who have paid attention to their proceedings.
On the death of Mr. Pitt, the then House of Commons immediately voted that his debts should be paid by JOHN GULL, and that he should have a public funeral, at JOHN’S expense! This was all perfectly in character, for it was voted before the _Talents_ or _Whigs_ came into place and power. A ministry, a new ministry, was now made up of most heterogeneous materials; it consisted of men differing as widely from each other as any of the factions could differ; _Fox_ and _Grenville united_, and, to crown the whole, Lord _Sidmouth_ made one of the cabinet. Mr. Fox, who had been the determined opponent, the violent contemner, of all the measures of Mr. Pitt, formed an union with Lord Grenville, who had been the constant supporter of the very worst measures of Mr. Pitt! As for Lord Sidmouth, all the Addingtons appeared determined to have a “finger in the pie!” let who would be in office, the Addingtons appeared determined to have a share of the plunder, by joining them. Such opposite characters, such vinegar and oil politicians, were not likely to amalgamate so as to produce any good for the people; they might, indeed, combine to share the profits of place, but they were sure never to agree in any measure that was likely to promote the freedom and happiness of the people. This, however, was called a Whig administration; and it will not be unuseful to record the names of those personages who composed this Whig administration. They were as follow, which I beg my readers to peruse attentively:–
Right Rev. Dr. C. Manners Sutton, Archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas Lord Erskine, Lord High Chancellor. Dr. William Markham, Archbishop of York. Earl Fitzwilliam, Lord President of the Council. Viscount Sidmouth, Lord Privy Seal. William Lord Grenville, First Lord of the Treasury. Lord Henry Petty, Chancellor of the Exchequer. Earl Spencer, Viscount Howick,
and Right Honorable William
Windham, Secretaries of State. Right Hon. Thomas Grenville, First Lord of the Admiralty. Sir David Dundas, Commander in Chief. Right Hon. Charles Abbot, Speaker of the House of Commons. Right Hon. Sir William Grant, Master of the Rolls. Edward Lord Ellenborough, Chief Justice of the Court of King’s Bench.
Sir Arthur Pigott, Attorney General. Sir Samuel Romilly, Solicitor General. Right Hon. Sir William Scott, Judge of the Admiralty. Right Hon. Richard Brindley
Sheridan, Treasurer of the Navy. Earl Temple and Lord John
Townsend, Paymasters of the Army. Francis Earl of Moira, Master General of the Ordnance. Right Hon. Richard Fitzpatrick, Secretary at War. John Duke of Bedford, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.
Here, my friends, you have a pretty correct list of the Whig administration, or “All the Talents,” as they were facetiously and ironically called, or rather nicknamed, who were called to office upon the death of Mr. PITT, a man of brilliant talents, and irresistible eloquence; but a man who turned these great gifts of the Supreme Being to the destruction of human liberty, and who directed his powerful genius, and the great facilities that were given him by his having the direction of the resources of this laborious and enterprising nation at his command, to the very worst of purposes, to the annihilation of the rights and liberties of his countrymen. Some of the poisonous effects of the Pitt system the nation has long been tasting, but the cup of bitterness and misery that it has produced is now filled to the brim, and its baleful contents are beginning to act fully on this once prosperous nation, and to blast and wither in the bud the very prospects of its once happy people. Mr. Pitt, in his younger days, before his ambition got the better of his principles, had been a reformer; but when he once got into place and power, he became the greatest apostate that ever existed; and, true apostate like, he endeavoured to hang his former associates and companions in that cause which he had so basely abandoned