It is rather extraordinary, but I longed excessively to see this lady. At

length the following occurrence led to the event which I had anticipated

with so much anxiety. My father had ridden to London, and taken his friend

Coward with him as a companion. On their return, having started early on a

Sunday morning, they rode, as was my father's custom, twenty miles before

breakfast, which brought them to the Windmill, at Salt Hill. They rode

into the yard, and having called for the hostler, the landlord, Mr.

Botham, came up to them and made his bow. Having learned, in the course of

his conversation with them, that they came from the neighbourhood of

Devizes, he enquired if my father knew Mr. Halcomb who kept the Bear Inn,

to which my father replied, that he not only knew but was particularly

intimate with him; a reply which led to a more familiar conversation.

As soon as they had finished breakfast, the landlord entered the room, and

invited them to walk into the garden and take some fruit; an invitation

which was accepted. From thence they had a full view of Windsor Castle,

which being admired by Coward, Mr. Botham enquired if they had ever seen

Windsor. The answer being in the negative,--"Well, Gentlemen," said he,

"If you will favour me with your company to dinner, I will take you over

in a chaise, shew you the King's farms, the Queen's dairy, &c. after which

we will walk over the Castle, and go to the Chapel Royal where you will

have an opportunity of seeing all the Royal Family, who are at Windsor, as

they scarcely ever fail in fine weather to attend divine service."

Coward's eyes sparkled with joy at the proposal, and he looked with

anxious expectation for my father's answer. The latter replied that it

would have been a great treat to him, particularly to have inspected the

King's farms; but that he was, nevertheless, reluctantly obliged to

decline this polite offer, as they were under the necessity of reaching

home the next morning, and had made arrangements for sleeping that night

at Newbury, a distance of nearly forty miles from Salt Hill, much too far

for their horses to take them after dinner. "If that be all the objection

you have," replied Botham, "we will soon settle that: I will send a steady

man on to Reading with your horses, who shall get them well cleaned and

fed, and after we have seen Windsor, and you have dined and taken one of

the best bottles of old port my house can produce, and drank the health of

my friend Halcomb, I will put the best pair of horses I have in my stables

to a post chaise, in which you shall be taken to Reading in such style as

will give you a specimen of the way in which we conduct posting at the

London end of the Bath road. By the time that you arrive at Reading your

horses will have had good time to feed, and will be fresh to take you on

to Newbury as early as you have named." Coward begged my father to accept

so very excellent a proposal, and declared that it would not only be a

great deal better for their horses, but a great accommodation to them; and

in this Coward was very sincere, for he did not altogether like my

father's long rides on horseback, as my father seldom travelled less than

sixty miles a day, when upon a journey. But my father, who was a man of

the world, looking Botham firmly in the face said, "I assure you, Sir,

that your proposition staggers me a little. Your offer is most polite and

very generous; but, as I am not in the habit of receiving such liberality

from strangers, how am I to account for the pressing manner in which you

have offered it? I cannot for one moment believe that a person in your

respectable situation can have any unworthy motive; but you must excuse me

for declining to assent to your proposition, unless you will inform me in

what way I may have an opportunity of returning the compliment, or, at any

rate, point out some probable motive that has induced you to proffer it."

"Sir," said Botham, I will do both; in the first place, I have received

many civilities, and in fact great acts of kindness, from Mr. Halcomb

which, as he has never been here, I have never had an opportunity of

returning. I have, therefore, seized this occasion of being civil to one

of his friends. In the next place, if you will fix a day, when I can meet

Mr. Halcomb and his daughters at your house, I will pay you a visit in

return with pleasure, although it is a distance of sixty miles. We

innkeepers, you know, travel not only expeditiously, but very cheaply.

"Enough," said my father. "Give me your hand, we will chearfully place

ourselves at your disposal till four or five o'clock in the afternoon."

The business was thus settled, to the great joy of poor Coward, who was

almost dumb with fear, lest my father should decline such an opportunity

of seeing Windsor and the Royal Family.

To Windsor they accordingly went, and were greatly entertained with what

they saw, which was every thing that was to be seen about the Castle, as

Mr. Botham was well acquainted with the upper servants in attendance

there; they also got a seat at the Chapel Royal, very near the Royal

Family, and having spent a pleasant day, Mr. Botham kept his word, by

conveying them in a post chaise to Reading, a distance of twenty miles, in

about an hour and a half.

When my father returned he related this circumstance to me and my sisters;

and Coward overwhelmed us with his praises of Mr. Botham. My father then

said that he would fix an early day, for Mr. Halcomb and his daughters to

come and meet him. Coward observed that he must have a very great regard

for his friend, to travel one hundred and twenty miles, merely to dine

with him. "Ah! Coward," said my father, "You know little of mankind! it

did not require any very extraordinary degree of penetration to discover

that Mr. Botham entertained a greater friendship for one of the

_daughters_ than he did for her father."--"Why, yes," replied Coward, "I

now remember that he devoured your praises of Miss Halcomb with great

avidity." "To tell you the truth," said my father, "Mr. Botham informed me

that he wished for an alliance with the eldest daughter of his friend;

and, as I think it a good match, and Salt Hill will be an excellent home

for her, I will do every thing that lies in my power to promote their

union."

For the moment, this information was death to my hopes, and seemed to

strike daggers to my heart; for I was literally over head and ears in love

with this unknown lady, merely from what I had heard my father say of her.

But as I could not learn from my father that she had in any way encouraged

the hopes of Botham, I felt, after a little reflection, no fears for the

result, and without farther consideration, resolutely made up my mind to

be his rival. This furnishes a striking example how liable young persons,

possessing minds of a sanguine nature, are to be talked into any thing.

The day was fixed for the party, and my poor father little thought that

his son, who could not by any process of reasoning be supposed to have any

thing more than the common feeling which actuates the minds of young

people when they anticipate meeting some friends of their own age, he

little thought that his son looked forward to the day with a much more

intense anxiety than either of the individuals that he expected would play

so prominent a character, and on whose account the party was solely made

up. The day at length arrived, and my father had made such preparations as

he conceived were due to the polite attention and hospitality that he had

received at the hands of Mr. Botham. My father was not one of that class

of personages who are so very common, and who pride themselves upon being

match makers; this being the only instance in which I ever knew him to

interfere in any thing of the sort; but he, nevertheless, really appeared

to enter into this scheme with all the ardour of an old proficient. I

believe, however, that he did it with the best of motives, under the full

impression that he was serving all parties, as it struck him that it would

be an union which bid fair to promote the mutual advantage and happiness

of the two families. The reader will indeed perceive that he was not an

adept in the art of match making, as, had he been so, he certainly would

not have communicated the secret to us young folks.

The dinner hour now approached, and a chaise drove up to the door;

containing the two Miss Halcombs, accompanied by their brother, on

horseback. My father having introduced them to me, Mr. Halcomb made an

apology for the absence of his father who was ill, and presented a letter,

which had been sent to him by the coach from Botham, directed for my

father. The latter having opened and read it, he looked very grave and

disconcerted, and said, addressing himself to the young lady, "I am very

sorry to inform you, Madam, that I find by this letter, which I have

received from Mr. Botham, that we shall be deprived of the pleasure of his

company, in consequence, as he informs me, of his unexpectedly having a

large party from town, who have ordered a dinner, which totally precludes

the possibility of his leaving home." This caused a slight blush upon the

cheek of Miss Halcomb, who very modestly replied, "that she was sorry my

father was deprived of the company of his friend; but," looking round to

me and my sister, she added with a smile, "we will endeavour to bear the

loss with fortitude, and spend the day as pleasantly as we can without

him." It might have been very natural for me to feel an inward pleasure at

the absence of one whom I had expected to meet as a rival; but to tell the

truth, I felt very differently, for I at once set him down as an opponent

not worth contending with, and I could not help despising him for his want

of gallantry. I had also eagerly watched the countenance of the lady, to

endeavour, if possible, to collect whether this Mr. Botham had made any

impression upon her heart or not; and from the apathy which it manifested,

I felt very little fear on his account. My father was sadly mortified at

the circumstance; both at the absence of his old friend Halcomb, and his

new acquaintance Botham. However, we spent a very pleasant day, and, as I

had already made up my mind to be, I _was_ over head and ears in love with

the lady. My attentions, in fact, were so pointed and unreserved, that I

saw that my father began to repent that he had ever had any thing to do

with match making.

I found Miss Halcomb not only to possess all the good qualities that my

father had ever described, but in my estimation she possessed ten thousand

times more charms than my fervid imagination previously formed. My

attentions were received with that politeness which was becoming an

amiable, a virtuous and an accomplished female, on the first interview

with a young man, to whom she had never given one thought before; but it

was very flattering to me to find that those attentions were not

considered obtrusive or disagreeable. I perceived that my father sat upon

thorns, and that he was very much pleased to find that the young ladies

declined the invitation of my sister to remain all night, although I added

my intreaties to those of my sister, and this too in so earnest a manner,

that my father could not refrain from saying that he should be very happy

if the young ladies would remain all night with his daughter, but really

he was fearful that my _homely way_ of pressing them to stay would be

considered as being very rude. Notwithstanding they had made up their

minds to go, yet I could see that they were not offended at the _homely

way_ (as my father called it) in which I enforced my suit. I enlarged upon

the darkness of the evening, the badness of the roads, and a thousand

other obstacles which I presented to their view; but when I found that all

was in vain; I seized an occasion to withdraw, while they were at tea, and

taking off one of the wheels of the chaise I conveyed it unobserved into

the rick yard, where I secreted it under some straw. I then returned and

took my leave, saying that I had an appointment to meet some friends at a

neighbouring fair, which was actually the case. Then, mounting my horse,

off I rode. It happened as I had anticipated. When the horses were brought

out to be put to the chaise, the boy was astonished to find that one of

the hind-wheels was gone; and as it was a physical impossibility for any

one to find it that night, the young ladies were obliged to accept my

sister's offer, in which my father now sincerely joined, since he found

that I had left home: though he did not hesitate to pronounce me to be the

culprit who had, in one of my ridiculous frolics, stolen the wheel off the

chaise. Upon my return, I was charged with the act, which I freely

confessed, assigning as an excuse, my fears for the safety of the young

females, travelling such bad roads in such a dark night.

Within a very few days after this event, I gained Miss Halcomb's consent

to ask her father's permission to pay my addresses in form; and within a

week from that time, I demanded her hand in marriage. The old gentleman,

however, very properly replied, that, although he had no objection to me

as a son-in-law, he could not give his consent to any such hasty measure,

till he had seen my father, to know if it met with his approbation. I

frankly told him that he might save himself the trouble and mortification

of applying to my father, who, as soon as I mentioned my attachment to

Miss Halcomb, and that I had offered her my hand and heart, (which at the

same time I informed him she had kindly accepted,) had thrown himself into

a violent passion, and swore, that unless I gave up my prize, and

abandoned all further intentions of marrying an innkeeper's daughter, he

would disinherit me, and cut me off with a shilling. This was quite enough

to fix my determination, and I at once told old Mr. Halcomb, that I hoped

he would act a more considerate part, for, as I had gained his daughter's

consent, and as I was of age, and his daughter very nearly so, all the

fathers in Christendom, nor all the powers on earth, should prevent me

from making her my wife. The old gentleman very clearly saw that it was of

no use to endeavour to deter me from my purpose by vain vows or threats;

he therefore took a more rational course; he endeavoured to win me over by

persuasion; and at length, by this conciliatory conduct, and by an

assurance that he would not stand personally in the way, but that he would

take every means consistent with the feelings of a man of honour to soften

down the rigour of my father, he prevailed upon me to give up all

intention of taking any hasty or premature step, which might involve us

all in very unpleasant difficulties. This was a course which was sure to

succeed with me, and I promised him that I would do nothing without his

knowledge. Now, I am convinced that if Mr. Halcomb had acted in the same

way that my father did, if he had forbidden me his house, and endeavoured

by force to prevent my access to his daughter, such was my spirit of

opposition, such an abhorrence had I of being _driven_ into or out of any

measure, such an innate hatred had I of every thing like tyrannical force,

that I am quite sure if he had so acted, I having got the lady's consent,

I am quite sure I should have run away with her in a week, in spite of all

that could have been done to prevent me. If my father, on the contrary,

had taken a similar course with Mr. Halcomb, if he had kindly advised me,

and endeavoured to prevail upon the by mild and gentle means, I do not say

that he would, or that he ought, to, have succeeded in making me give up

the lady, but I am quite clear that he would have had a much better chance

of success. Nay, if he had appeared careless, and left me to myself, I was

at that time of such a volatile disposition, that such a hasty attachment

might possibly have been weakened, or it might have worn off by time; but

the very course which he took, irrevocably fixed my fate as to marriage. I

was of age, and I had always made up my mind that I was, and ought to be,

my own master upon this subject. I am still of the same opinion; I still

hold that parents have no right to make their children miserable by any

arbitrary dictation upon a question of such vital importance as that of

whom they shall marry. Parents have an undoubted right, nay it is an

imperious duty which they owe to their children, to direct their choice

with respect to suitable connections, and they have a right to interpose

the authority of their advice and recommendation to their children. But

the law of God and of man says[14], that the parties about to be united

ought to exercise their own free choice. The law says that no person shall

marry who is under age, without the consent of his or her parents; and the

law has very justly drawn this line. The law, therefore, very properly

contemplates that no parent shall have the absolute controul over the

person of a child in this matter after that child has come of age.

I have, probably, detained the reader much longer upon this subject than

is either entertaining or edifying, but as this occurrence paved the way

for that important part of my history, my marriage, I feel it a duty which

I owe to myself, and to those who do me the honour to read these Memoirs,

and more particularly to the Radicals, to be more explicit than I

otherwise should be, if the venal press, and particularly the profligate

Editors and Proprietors of that press, in order to gratify their political

employers and partisans, had not, upon so many occasions, and with such

brutal and savage coarseness, when they could neither answer my arguments

nor contradict the truths that I promulgated, sought to cover their defeat

and their infamy by accusing me of having deserted my wife, and left her

to starve. Fearless of the consequences, I shall, therefore, as I go

along, place the circumstances fairly and honestly before the public, and

leave them to draw their own conclusions, as to the correctness, not to

say any thing of the honesty, of the base assertions which are made by the

toots of my political adversaries. At this moment, however, I will merely

state briefly this fact, that, in the year 1802, more than eighteen years

ago, I was separated from my wife by mutual consent. We had three

children; two sons and a daughter. It was agreed that the daughter should

live with the mother, and the sons with me; but that both mother and

father should have free access to each of the children, and the children

the same access to the parents; and as I made a most liberal settlement

upon my wife, (the particulars of which I shall not withhold,) there has

been no complaint uttered by either party; no living creature ever having

heard me make even the slightest insinuation against my wife, or ever cast

the most remote reflection upon her character or conduct; neither has it

ever come to the knowledge of myself or any of my friends that my wife has

spoken one disrespectful word against me. As we have both always lamented,

as a misfortune, the circumstances which led to our separation, so we both

have carefully abstained from heightening and adding to the poignancy of

that misfortune, by mutual accusations, revilings, and recriminations,

which would have been as base as they would have been proved to he

unfounded. If, on the contrary, I had deserted my wife, after having, when

I was first married, surrounded her by prostitutes and courtezans; if I

had been intriguing with every loose and abandoned female that came within

the precincts of a profligate circle; if, after having driven her from my

home, friendless and unprovided for; if, after having personally insulted

her, I had hired spies and informers to traduce her character; if I had

employed and paid the most abandoned characters, and had suborned them to

swear away her life and her honour; if, when this plot had been detected

and exposed, and her innocence had been proved by the very means that I

had employed to blast her reputation and to destroy her; if I had still,

in the most unfeeling and unnatural manner, separated her from, and cut

off all communication with, her child, under the hollow and false pretence

that she was not a proper person to be entrusted with the care of her own

daughter; if, I say, I had driven her out of the country, and, having done

this, if I had hired another gang of base villains, not only to dog and

watch her steps, but to seduce and bribe her servants to betray her; if I

had rewarded these villains, _even with my own money_, to fabricate and

propagate all sorts of calumnies against her abroad, while their infamous

agents at home were reiterating and magnifying those falsehoods; if I had

bribed the dastardly hireling press to libel and villify her; if in fact,

I had carried my persecutions and deadly hatred so far as at last _to

break the heart of her daughter_; if, upon her return, I had made another

atrocious attempt to destroy her by means of hired, bribed and suborned

foreign witnesses; if I had done these things, or any of them, I should

have been an execrable and detestable villain, and I should have merited

the scorn of every man and woman in the universe: but, even then, even if

I had been guilty of all these horrible and unnatural deeds, it would,

even under these abhorrent circumstances, have been base in the extreme in

the doubled-faced, black-hearted villains of the _Courier_, the _dull

Post_ and the _mock Times_ to attack me in the way they have repeatedly

done about my wife; because there are not three _such abandoned profligate

unprincipled_ monsters under the canopy of heaven. Even the _virtuous_ Mr.

Perry, of the Morning Chronicle, has, when an occasion offered,

endeavoured to varnish over his own character by attacking me about my

wife. But, when I remind Mr. Perry that his wife, or at least the person

he called one of his wives, was a Miss HULL, a butcher's daughter of the

above-named town of Devizes, and that I know that those "who have glass

heads, should be very careful how they throw stones;" I trust he will be

more guarded in future.

I now request my readers to accept my apology for this long digression,

and, without further comment, I will resume the thread of my narrative. I

have now introduced the reader to Miss Halcomb, who was destined to be my

wife; and I also have before said that I event to send a Sunday with her

at Heytesbury, a distance of nearly thirty miles from my father's house.

The reader will recollect, too, that I had engaged with my father's mowers

to meet them at four o'clock on the Monday, morning upwards of three miles

from home, in order to attack a field of oats, of seventeen acres and a

half, a very heavy crop, to see if we, (five in number,) could not cut

them down the same day. The time, however, passed so delightfully and so

rapidly in the society of an amiable and lovely female, to whom I was

betrothed, that the clock had unobserved by me struck twelve more than

half an hour; and, before I could muster up resolution enough to tear

myself from the clear object of all my hopes, the respectable family, with

whom my intended wife was visiting, had given me more than one hint of its

being past their usual time of retiring to rest. However, upon another

hint being given by the prudent matron of the family, I took my leave, and

having mounted my faithful steed I bent my course over the downs, twenty

miles across Salisbury Plain. As I quitted the village, or rather the

rotten borough, of Heytesbury, the church clock struck _one_; Which for

the first time recalled to my recollection the promise I had made, as well

as my resolution to perform an uncommon day's mowing, which was to

commence at twenty-three miles distance at four o'clock.

Memoirs of Henry Hunt, Esq. — Volume 1 · 第 14 / 29 段