But to return to my narrative--I was now living in the zenith of

thoughtlessness, if I may be permitted to call it by so mild an

appellation. I had a large income, and I contrived to live nearly, though

not quite, up to it, by keeping a great deal of expensive company, and an

expensive establishment, both within and without doors. In all this my

wife fully participated; but I attribute no blame to her for this. It was

_my_ business and my duty to know better, and to act otherwise. There is

no excuse for me, as I did know that I was leading what might be fairly

and justly called a dissolute life: I do not mean to admit that there was

any thing which is generally termed criminal in my conduct, but I must

say, if I tell the truth, which I am determined to do at all hazards, that

I led a very dissipated existence.

When I look back soberly, and divest myself of fashionable prejudices, I

cannot conscientiously call it by any milder name. In fact, though my

habits at that period were similar to those of thousands and thousands of

fashionable families in the country, who are looked upon as most

respectable and correct people, I cannot look back but with regret upon

the manner in which I spent this most valuable portion of my time.

Hunting, shooting, coursing, or fishing all day, and every day; and then

at night, instead of passing it with my family and children in the calm,

serene, delightful joys of a domestic and rational fireside, I had always

a large party at home, or made one amongst the number at a friend's house.

Seldom were we in bed till two or three o'clock in the morning. The next

day brought sporting, and the next night a ball, or a card party, or a

drinking party; and thus I was hurried from one scene of dissipation to

another, without ever allowing myself time scarcely to look round, seldom

to look back, and never seriously to reflect. It was with me even in

dissipation, as it was in every thing else that I engaged in, that I was

enthusiastic. In this record of my errors and failings, the reader must

therefore prepare himself to hear, at any rate, of some thumping faults;

and although I do not deserve, and do not expect, to escape the deep

censure of some, yet I rely upon the liberal indulgence of the more

virtuous portion of the community, who know that it is the lot of man to

err, but that it is godlike to make allowances for human infirmities, and

to forgive them. And, after relating all my errors, I shall boldly say, in

the language of our Saviour, "Let him that is without fault cast the first

stone."

In the midst of this life of thoughtless gaiety and pleasure, I was always

greatly attached to female society, and I gave the preference to those

amusements where females were of the party, such as dancing, music, and

those card parties where they could join. In consequence of this, I

frequently escaped those Bacchanalian carousals to which many of my

intimate friends and companions were strongly addicted. Not that I mean to

pretend, that, when I made one of those parties, I ever flinched. No; I

took my bottle as freely as any of them; but, thanks to a good

constitution, never to excess, or rather never so as to become inebriated.

Dancing I enjoyed, and participated in to excess. My partiality to female

society led me into many extravagancies, and into some difficulties; for I

could not pay moderate attention to a lady. My partner, if I admired her,

received my enthusiastic attention; for, though I was a married man, yet I

suffered no single man to outdo me in polite assiduities to my partner.

This sometimes drew down upon me the anger, and upon one occasion the

unjust suspicion, of Mrs. Hunt. A young lady, who was upon a visit in our

family, had attracted my particular notice. She was handsome, elegant,

lively, and fascinating, and I was at first led to pay her more marked

respect, because I discovered that it excited the envy of a widow lady of

Andover, who came with her on a visit to our house. She, like many of her

fellows, because she never possessed any of those personal charms, or

acquired accomplishments, that please all who come within the reach of

their influence, was uncommonly envious of those who did; and, setting

herself up as a sort of duenna to this young lady, undertook to take her

to task, for receiving with so much ease and unconcern, my extremely

marked attention, which she declared made my wife very unhappy.--This was,

at that moment, a barefaced falsehood of the old hag, though she contrived

afterwards by her arts, insinuations, and fabrications, to produce that

effect in the breast of Mrs. Hunt. The old widow, whom I shall for

convenience sake call Mrs. Butler, at first was successful in thwarting,

as she said, her young friend's amusement, and in rendering miserable the

person whom she affected to pity; but at last, by carrying her calumnies

too far, she failed altogether in her diabolical schemes; for, having

represented to Mrs. Hunt that she had seen me take a gross and indecent

liberty with the young lady, the falsehood struck my wife so forcibly,

that the object of it was very visible even to her jaundiced eye, and

without ceremony she ordered her carriage, and packed the slanderer off to

her own home, very properly forbidding her ever entering her door again.

Though my wife behaved with becoming spirit upon this occasion, by

banishing such a fiend in human form from her house, yet the latent sparks

of jealousy which had been lodged in her breast were still too visible to

be concealed. I was stung by being subject to such unjust suspicions, and,

instead of taking the prudent and proper course, conscious of the purity

and innocence of my feelings with respect to our young visitor, I

continued, nay, redoubled, my zealous devotion. Instead of healing the

breach that this fracas had made, I braved it out; and what before was

only the polite attention, which I was always in the habit of paying to an

interesting female, became now, to all outward appearance, an enthusiastic

attachment. Unfortunately, too, the young lady, feeling indignant at the

groundless and unjust ideas of Mrs. Hunt, too readily fell into my views,

and appeared to be very much pleased with my open and increased

assiduities. This added fuel to the fire; it led to the most unpleasant

consequences, and laid the foundation for those little bickerings which

are too apt to create, at length, a mutual indifference. However, after

having braved the affair out for a few days, the young lady returned

amongst her friends, who had the sincerity and candour to represent to her

the imprudence of her conduct; and this flirtation, which was so innocent

in fact, but so injurious in its result, was at once put an end to. I have

related this seemingly uninteresting affair, first to shew and admit the

folly of which I was guilty, for folly it was, to say the least of it; and

next, as a warning to my young readers, to avoid the rock of tampering

with and irritating the feelings of those whom they ought to love and

cherish. I sincerely believe if a man once excites jealousy in the breast

of his wife, whether well founded or not, the virus that it engenders is

of such a corroding nature that it is seldom, if ever, totally eradicated.

Married persons, therefore, can never be too circumspect in their conduct.

Though I never offered the most distant insult, or ever took even the most

innocent liberty, with this young lady, yet I admit that I was guilty of

an act of gross and wanton imprudence. I was guilty of great injustice to

the young lady, and of greater injustice to Mrs. Hunt; and I feel at this

moment, that, to induce the reader to forgive this faulty part of my

conduct, will require a considerable portion of liberality and good

nature, and of that amiable Christian virtue which teaches a person

conscious of his own innocence, to look with charity upon the failings of

others.

END OF VOL. I

ERRATA IN VOL. 1.

[1] _for_ Stafford, _read_ Strafford.

[2] _for_ a great, _read_ at a great.

[3] _for_ preading, _read_ dreading.

[4] _for_ scenes which, _read_ scenes of misery.

[5] _for_ five, _read_ three.

[6] _for_ Dr. Stills, _read_ Mr. Stills.

[7] _for_ Barwis, _read_ Barvis.

[8] _for_ loud, _read_ old.

[9] _for_ ascend, _read_ descend.

[10] _for_ this time, _read_ at this time.

[11] _after_ Westcombe, _read_ was one of them, and he.

[12] _for_ Sycencot, _read_ Syrencot.

[13] _for_ settled to the, _read_ settled the.

[14] _for_ say, _read_ says.

[15] _for_ wer, _read_ were.

[16] _read_ were given without delay.

[17] _read_ went over with me in a chaise.

[18] _for_ hat, _read_ that.

[19] _for_ mothers, _read_ mother.

[20] _for_ listen to, _read_ listen to it.

[21] _for_ Brook-street, _read_ Brock-street.

[22] _for_ the Bear-inn, _read_ the inn.

[23] _for_ East-street, _read_ East Kent.

[24] _read_ the prosecutors moved, the Court of King's

Bench to remove the venue out of Kent, upon

the ground, that the farmers were prejudiced

so much in favour of Mr. Waddington, that

they could not obtain a fair jury.

[25] _for_ when she reached, _read_ when we reached.

[26] _for_ Mr. Foy, _read_ Mr. Fay.

[Note: The errata listed here have been applied to this text. The

page & line originally quoted have been replaced by alphabetical markers

[n], which refer to similar markers placed in the text where such

amendments were made.

[12] Sycencot -> Syrencot--referred to a single page/line. Syrencot is the

location of Dyke's house; it occurs at 3 other places in the text--these

have been changed and marked.

[16] deletes 'for furniture &c.'

[17] replaces 'went over in a chaise to Devizes the evening before.'

[24] replaces 'he moved the Court of King's Bench to remove the _venue_

out of Kent, on the score of a prejudice having been raised against him in

that county.' ]

End of Project Gutenberg's Memoirs of Henry Hunt, Esq. Volume 1, by Henry Hunt

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