us, and I could not help observing, what a misfortune it was for such a
brilliant man to drown his senses and obscure his intellect with wine.
Though I had for some years, at least since I was married, kept that sort
of company which led me to take my glass freely, yet I seldom took it to
excess, and never to inebriate myself. This melancholy example of Mr.
Clifford had a very great effect upon me. To see a man of the most
brilliant talent, of the most profound erudition, so far forget himself as
to become an object of pity and contempt, imbecile, and even beastly, was
a sight which made a deep and lasting impression upon my mind, and I began
to think that my own partial indulgence in the practice of drinking so
freely after dinner was an act of great weakness and folly, which, if not
checked, was likely to degenerate into one of the worst of crimes.
In these sentiments my friend Waddington agreed with me, and he readily
joined in a determination never to suffer any thing of the sort to take
place at our table again while we remained together. This resolution we
managed to keep, though we had a difficult task to perform when Mr.
Clifford and the Rev. Dr. Gabriel dined with us, which was regularly twice
a week. The reverend doctor, in particular, we found it incumbent upon us
to keep within strict bounds; for, when he had got a little too much wine,
though he was an old man, and a dignitary of the church, it was with great
difficulty we could restrain him from indulging in obscene conversation,
with which my friend and myself were equally disgusted. The doctor was a
wit and a scholar, but, as Mrs. Waddington and her family, as well as
other amiable females both of her and my friends, frequently visited us,
his language was not to be tolerated, and, consequently, I undertook one
morning to remonstrate with the doctor upon the subject. He freely
acknowledged his error, but attributed it to a foolish habit that he had
acquired at college, of which he could never afterwards wholly break
himself. At the same time, he pleaded that he never forgot himself so far
as to disgrace his profession, unless he had taken too much wine--which,
by the bye, was every day when he could get it. I made known to the doctor
our resolution to limit him to a bottle, and that his visits were to be
continued upon that understanding. To this he readily assented, and
thenceforth we found him to be a well-informed and entertaining companion,
on the two days in the week that he was invited to dine with us. The
doctor was reduced in circumstances, and was living within the rules. It
was he who built the octagon chapel at Bath, of which he was the
proprietor, and where he preached for many years. He was a man of letters,
and, when sober, a perfect gentleman; but, when ever so little elevated,
he betrayed, even to us comparative strangers, that he was a complete free
thinker. Many of my readers will recollect the literary controversy which
took place between him and, I believe, Doctor Gardiner, of Bath. I forget
what were his politics, but I believe he was a Whig. One thing I perfectly
recollect, which was, that when he was going to relate an obscene story or
anecdote, he always gave us a preliminary intimation of it by _sneezing_.
He was, on the whole, one of the most extraordinary of the numerous
extraordinary characters that I became acquainted with while I remained at
the King's Bench, during my first visit there of six weeks, in the years
1800 and 1801.
This was a very distressing season for the poor; and Mr. Waddington and
myself gave a ton of potatoes to the poor prisoners in the King's Bench
every week; nor, during the time that I was there, did we ever fail to
relieve not only every applicant, and they were numerous, but also to seek
privately for objects of distress within the walls; and wherever we found
an unfortunate object, we did our best to alleviate his misery. Some we
found almost naked, without clothes or even bedding; some who were pining,
in secret, silent want, who were ashamed to make their wretchedness known.
These we never failed to succour. The Marshal likewise assisted us in
these acts of charity, and did every thing that humanity and kindness
could suggest, to ameliorate the condition of the unhappy prisoners in his
custody.
It being now the season when those who toil for us naturally expect some
proof of our friendship and gratitude, to enable them to enjoy their long
anticipated merriment, I sent home directions to Mrs. Hunt to have my
usual Christmas present given to each of my servants. It consisted of a
good piece of beef, some potatoes, and faggots to dress it with, the
quantity given being in proportion to the size of the family. This good
custom I learned from my father, and I regularly continued it every year;
but it was always done, I hope, with a becoming spirit, without any
ostentation. I never, as many did, caused my little charitable acts to be
blazoned forth in the public newspapers. I will venture to say, that,
while we were in the King's Bench, Mr. Waddington and myself gave away,
privately, a larger sum, in comparison with our incomes, than, any of the
publicly blazoned forth charitable men in the city of London, who were
lauded up to the sky for their benevolent disposition. Every Christmas,
each servant, who had worked for me during the year, received a present of
beef enough to keep each person a week, which was never noticed in any of
the public newspapers, though they constantly teemed with pompous accounts
of the _generosity, benevolence_, and _charity_ of my more opulent
neighbours, who never gave half so much; in fact, who never gave a
twentieth part so much as myself, in proportion to their means.
A circumstance of this sort, which happened not a hundred miles from this
place, and the description of which was given to me by a farmer, has
caused me a hearty laugh. It was lately paragraphed in all the country as
well as the London papers, and spread far and near, that a worthy and
reverend magistrate, in this neighbourhood, had, with great liberality,
given away an ox to his parishioners; some, in their great bounty, added
eight or ten sheep to the boon. I was one day speaking with due praise of
this act before a farmer of the neighbourhood, who had called to visit me;
upon which he burst into a loud horse laugh, and exclaimed, "Oh, the old
cow!" The fact was, as he informed me, that the worthy magistrate had an
old Norman cow, that had done breeding, and consequently gave no more
milk; and as every farmer in the country well knows that the Devil himself
could not graze an old cow of this sort to make her fit for the butcher,
the worthy parson very properly gave her away amongst his parishioners;
and the praises of this mighty gift were hawked about in almost every
newspaper in the kingdom!
I do not give any name, neither do I, in the remotest degree, bring
forward the circumstance by way of taunt or ridicule. There was nothing
improper in it, but the contrary; and, of course, the old cow afforded
many a hearty meal, and many a porridge-pot full of good wholesome broth
to those amongst whom she was divided, who, no doubt, were very thankful
to the worthy justice for the present. I only mention it to shew that it
"is not all gold that glitters," and how such a thing is trumpeted forth
when it is once set a going. I know it is the practice of many persons to
give a trifle at this time of the year, and then get one of their
dependents to send, and not unfrequently they themselves send, an account
of it to the county paper. Away goes the news, and a person's name is
blazoned forth all over the kingdom, as a most charitable man or woman,
when it often happens that a great deal of misery, poverty, wretchedness
and want presents itself to their view all the year round, without their
ever once extending that aid which, to bestow in private, would afford
them ten times as much heart-felt pleasure, and real satisfaction, as they
can gain from their ostentatious annual newspaper fraud. I have given away
four times the value of this said cow, every Christmas, for ten or fifteen
years together, without having ever once had, or wishing to have, my name
held up in a public newspaper, as an example of charity and liberality to
the poor. Yet, twenty years ago, before I was known as a reformer, when,
for instance, I was in the King's Bench, a pound note, a fifth part of
what Mr. Waddington and I gave away privately, besides the ton of
potatoes, would have caused my name to cut a pompous figure in all the
vehicles of news, both in town and country. I may, without boasting,
declare, that scarcely a month in my life ever passed without my having
given away more than the value of the said old cow, to relieve and assist
my fellow creatures in distress; and yet the public well know how my name
has been bandied about in every newspaper in England, Ireland, and
Scotland, and, of late years, in almost every paper in Europe, as the
greatest enemy of the poor, as their deceiver, their deluder, their
plunderer! I have been held up, for political purposes, by the venal
press, as a sort of ferocious monster, who longed to gorge upon the
life-blood of my fellow countrymen! It will be asked by some, how comes it
that _all_ the public press has been induced to represent you as a monster
of this description? The answer is easy. For this plain reason: because
all those who belong to the _public press,_ the _liberal press_, have been
the agents or the, tools of one or the other of the two great political
factions, nick-named Whigs and Tories; because throughout the whole of my
political life, I have honestly opposed the peculations, the plunderings,
and frauds of the borough-mongers of both those two factions upon the
people, upon the earnings of the poor; because I have never in any way
been, nor ever would be, linked on to either of those factions; because I
have fairly, manfully, and openly stood up for the political rights of my
_poorer fellow countrymen,_ and never for one moment of my life have
compromised those rights, in order to secure or promote my own interest.
I repeat again, that I have not introduced the subject of the old cow with
any invidious motive. As far as the thing went it was a praiseworthy and
charitable act. I have myself many times done the same thing; have fatted
an old cow, and given the beef away to the poor, which has been worth, to
them, from ten to fifteen pounds; very excellent meat to eat, and I have
partaken of some of it in my own family; though it would have scarcely
fetched any thing to have been sold to a butcher. And if this should meet
the eye of the worthy justice, he will take it as it is meant, and not as
any sarcasm at him, though the said justice is one of the number who was
induced to sign the infamous order to exclude my female friends from
visiting me; which I would fain hope he did against his own judgment, and
I am sure, from the personal kindness I before received of him here, he
did it much against his inclination. Some may say that my statement, of
what I have done, is an egotistical digression; that I am sounding my own
trumpet; and that to do so is no proof of a truly charitable disposition;
but let them recollect that I am compelled to this digression, in order to
do justice to my own calumniated character; let them recollect that I am
writing my own history, and that, as _all the press_ of Europe has been
sedulously and malignantly employed to prejudice the public against me, I
owe it to myself, to my children and family, to the myriads of my fellow
countrymen who have honoured me with their confidence; I owe it to them,
to show, past all contradiction, that my accusers are slanderers; that my
conduct deserves to be otherwise spoken of than it has been; and this duty
I can perform only by speaking candidly and boldly of such facts as may
tell in my favour; facts, be it remembered, which admit of being proved or
disproved by thousands of living witnesses. I make no assertions which are
morally or physically incapable of being refuted; I appeal to evidence,
which is still in existence; and if my enemies can convict one of having,
in my defence, gone beyond the limits of truth, I will be content, ever
after, to listen in silence to their calumnies.
But it is now time to change the scene again to the King's Bench. I was
there every day in the society of men who had not merely mixed in the busy
scenes of the metropolis, but of whom I found that many had been connected
with the government; many had borne a part in all the dirty tricks,
frauds, perjuries, and bribery practised at elections. Of such
abominations as I did not think it possible ever to have occurred, the
reality was clearly proved to me, by those who had been eye witnesses of
them, and who had participated in the plunder. _Circumstances_ brought me
into strange company, and here I saw men of all persuasions in religion,
and of all parties in politics.
The year 1800 was a very busy year, and the price of provisions was at its
height, in consequence of which, there were many riots both in London and
the country. The parliamentary remedy for this evil was, an act, passed on
the 12th of February, forbidding the sale of bread till four and twenty
hours after it had been baked.
Towards the close of 1799, Buonaparte became the first consul of France,
and he immediately wrote a letter himself to the King of England, offering
to treat for peace. The British ministers, however, treated the offer with
contempt, and they were sanctioned in their conduct by the legislative
bodies. Oh, fatal policy! if this offer had been accepted, millions of
lives might have been spared--oceans of blood and hundreds of millions of
money might have been saved to the nation. Mr. Fox and Mr. Whitbread
opposed the address in the House of Commons, but it was carried by 265
against 64. High debates and strong divisions took place in the Irish
House of Commons, upon the Union, when Lord Castlereagh began to make a
figure by his intrigues; British gold prevailed over Irish patriotism, and
the majorities were in favour of the Union. Mr. Waithman now first began
to figure upon the stage of politics in London, and a motion which he
made, in favour of peace, was carried unanimously at a Common Hall. The
House of Commons, on the motion of Mr. Tierney, divided 44 for peace and
143 for war; this was on the twenty-sixth of February, and on the eleventh
of May, at a field-day in Hyde Park, a shot wounded a young gentleman, who
stood near the King, for whom no doubt it was intended. The same evening
his Majesty was at Drury Lane theatre, when a man in the pit, whose name
was Hatfield, standing up on one of the benches, fired a pistol at him;
but he was pronounced to be deranged in his intellects, and he was
confined accordingly.
All our magnanimous allies had by this time deserted us, with the
exception of the Emperor of Germany, whose friendship was purchased by
another loan of two millions of money, to be raised in taxes upon John
Bull; or, to apply a more appropriate name, _John Gull_--for, so zealous
were his faithful representatives in the Commons, that they voted away
forty-eight millions for the service of the year; and to prevent, or
rather silence any grumbling, the Habeas Corpus suspension act was passed.
On the fourteenth of June, the great battle of Marengo was fought, between
the French, who were commanded by _Buonaparte_, and the Austrians under
Melas, whose army he completely defeated, killing six thousand of them,
and taking twelve thousand prisoners, and forty-five pieces of cannon. In
this battle Napoleon proved himself not only the bravest, but the best
general of the age. Immediately after this battle an armistice followed,
and peace was ultimately concluded between France and Austria.
On the eighteenth of this month, July 1800, the atrocities of Governor
Aris, and his abettors, in Cold Bath Field's prison, were exposed in the
House of Commons, by Sir Francis Burdett; and on the fourteenth of August
following, the indignant populace assembled to pull down this prison,
which they very properly called the English Bastile. The conduct of Aris
was such that he was driven in disgrace from his situation, and another
more humane governor was appointed in his place, in order to tranquillize
the people, who were justly enraged almost to desperation against this
monster. What a disgrace, not only to the administration of the country,
but to the character of the age to suffer a malignant fiend to have the
control over the liberties of persons sentenced to be confined in a
prison! How much have those magistrates and sheriffs to answer for who
suffer these devils in human shape to tyrannize over and torture the
victims consigned to their custody! How necessary is it for sheriffs (high
sheriffs I mean), to visit their prisons in person, and see in what manner
their prisoners are treated! I do not mean a _formal visit_, when the
gaoler has notice of his coming, that he may be prepared to deceive him.
But I say it is the duty of a sheriff to go unawares, at times when he is
not expected, and then to visit the prisoners _by himself_, taking care
that those jacks in office, the turnkeys, do not go before him, to prepare
the prisoners, and to caution them not to make any complaints. What a
farce is kept up by the parade of visiting magistrates, who pass through a
gaol, for instance, once a month, "like a cat over a harpsichord;"
inquiring, most likely, in the _presence_ of the gaoler or turnkey, if any
of the prisoners have any complaint to make to the magistrates! Oh what a
horrible farce is this. A planter in the West Indies may just as well
expect to hear the truth if he were to enquire of the negroes, in the
presence of their _drivers_, whether any of them have a complaint to make
against any of the said negro-drivers!
When I first came to this gaol, one of the poor prisoners, who was
assisting to repair my dungeon, was telling me of an act of cruel
injustice and torture that had been inflicted upon him by one of the
turnkeys. Upon which I said to the man, "Did you not make a complaint to
the magistrates? I am sure they would not suffer a prisoner to be treated
in such a way with impunity." The poor fellow looked at me very
steadfastly, for some time, to see if I were in earnest; at length he
replied, "Lord, Sir! you will know better after you have been here a
little while. I have been here nearly two years, and I never knew any
prisoner make a complaint even to the gaoler, and much less to the
magistrate, without being punished for it. I never knew a man make a
complaint who was not locked up, in solitary confinement, within a week
afterwards, for _something_ or _other_. A prisoner is sure never to get
any redress, for the turnkeys will say any thing, and what one says
another will swear; and the gaoler always believes them, or pretends to
believe them, in preference to the prisoners; so do what they will with us
we never complain."
I am sorry to say that I have found that there was too much truth in this
assertion. I know it is the practice of some lords of manors, never to
hire a gamekeeper unless he will engage _always to swear_ that which,
right or wrong, will convict a poacher: and I now believe that it is also
a requisite qualification for a turnkey to swear that which will please
the gaoler. I am quite sure it is the case in _some_ gaols, in which,
unless a turnkey will do this, he will never get promotion, or a rise in
his salary, nor have his rent paid, &c. &c. The principal object of these
fraternities appears to be deception; and particularly if a magistrate or
a sheriff should be a conscientious, humane man, their study, their
occupation is to deceive him, in which they are very likely to succeed;
for a clever gaoler, surrounded by such pliant helpmates, will deceive the
very devil, if he be not aware of their tricks; and how easily then may
they cheat an honest, unsuspecting country justice! I have been led into
this excusable digression from the recollection of Aris's exposure in the
House of Commons; and what a tale shall I have by and by to unfold, of the
scenes that are perpetrated with impunity in this gaol. Some of the most
atrocious acts are here made a merit of, and the gaoler even boasts of
them in the public-houses, amongst his pot-companions.
To return to my narrative. On the 3d of October, the Common Hall, on the
motion of Mr. Waithman, resolved to present an address to the King upon
the throne, for peace; but, for the first time, the King refused to
receive it, except at _the levee_. Thus were the livery of London deprived
of their right, their ancient right, of approaching their sovereign to
present their petitions to the throne. Thus were all future Common Halls
reduced to the level of any common assembly by George the Third. Thus did
those who took the lead in city politics concede the rights of their
fellow-citizens, and surrender their proudest privileges, without a
struggle. From that day to this, the Livery of London have never exercised
their constitutional privilege of addressing or petitioning the throne.
Mr. Waithman and Mr. Favel have persuaded the livery not to petition the
throne, because they were not permitted to present it to the throne:
unlike Beckford, they had neither the courage to demand the right, nor the
sincerity to give it up. By such temporising means they have altogether
compromised the rights of their fellow citizens. I made one effort to
rouse the livery into a sense of their duty, and moved for the appointment
of a committee to search for precedents; but the Whig cabal frustrated my
intentions, though I was supported by Mr. White, of the Independent Whig,
and many other patriotic members of that body. By and by, I shall lay open
to public view the despicable intrigues of this faction in the city of
London. The mass of the livery are honest, honourable and patriotic, and
real lovers of fair play; but the tricks and intrigues of the factions,
who have strutted upon the boards of the Common Hall for the last twenty
years, are without parallel; and, when I come to that epoch of my history
at which I became a liveryman, it shall be my business to unmask many a
hypocrite, and to exhibit these mock reformers in their true colours. In
performing this duty I shall divest myself of every personal
consideration; and in drawing the true characters of the great rivals,
Wood and Waithman, I will, if possible, divest myself of prejudice, and do
them both justice. The result of the last general election for the city
not only speaks the sense of the livery, but it is a pretty fair criterion
by which the public may estimate the value of each of these characters.
The inestimable conduct of Mr. Alderman Wood, with regard to the affairs
of the Queen, has placed him upon that eminence to which his honesty and
public spirit so eminently entitle him.
On the third of November, the Emperor Paul of Russia laid an embargo on
three hundred British ships, and sequestered all British property in the
ports of Russia. Thus he who, at the commencement of the year, was our
most vigorous and magnanimous ally, became, at the latter end of it, one
of our most powerful and inveterate foes. British gold and British
influence could, however, now command the use of the bow-string in Russia,
as it had heretofore directed the use of the guillotine in France; for, on
the 23d of March, he was found murdered in his chamber, and his _amiable_
and _ingenuous_ son, Alexander, the present tyrant, succeeded him, he
being understood to be better disposed to listen to the proposals of the
Cabinet of St. James's.
On the last day of this year, the Union was completed between England and
Ireland, and the degradation of that brave and high spirited people was
celebrated in London, on the first day of the nineteenth century, by
hoisting a standard upon the Tower, and an imperial ensign was displayed
by the foot guards. A new great seal was also used on account of the
Union. The Imperial Parliament also met on the first day of the year, and
commenced its first session.