my family." This one simple, this one reasonable request, is all I have
asked, is all I do ask, and it is all I shall ask. But, while you deny
me this, talk not to me of conciliation. All your little, petty, dirty,
mean tricks to annoy me I can and do laugh at; I should despise myself,
if I could not despise and disregard them. But, like expert butchers,
who, when they are about to cut the throat of their innocent victim, the
bleating lamb, know well where to apply the knife, so do you know where
to inflict a deadly wound in the most vital part. There is, to be sure,
this distinction between you and the butcher; it is his business, it
is his profession, by which he gets his daily bread; and, indeed, the
sooner he kills his victim the more merciful he is: but as for you, your
conduct is ten thousand times more brutal than that of the butcher,
inasmuch as you inflict torture upon a human being, merely for the
pleasure of inflicting torture. And do you really believe, are you so
besotted as to flatter yourselves, that you will escape? Do you really
believe, that "Where vice and cruelty go before, vengeance will not
follow after?" Vain and delusive hope!!! Justice is slow, very slow, in
reaching the minions of power; but she is certain to prevail at last.
This digression I am sure will be excused, and I will now proceed.
This period (1801 and 1802) may be said to have been the zenith of the
farmers' glory. If a farm was to be let, scores were riding and driving
over each other, ready to break their necks to take it, to rent it
at any price. Not only farmers, but tailors, tinkers, grocers,
linen-drapers, and all sorts of tradesmen and shopkeepers, were running,
_helter shelter_, to be farmers; men connected with the press, and
cunning attorneys were joining in the chase; men of all professions,
indeed, were now eager to become gentlemen farmers. My father used
to class the whole of these under the general denomination of APRON
FARMERS. Never was there a more significant and intelligible term
applied to any set of men. In every parish you now saw one or two of
these _apron farmers_, gentlemen who knew very well how to handle a
yard, so as to make short measure in selling a piece of cloth; men who
could acquit themselves well at a pestle and mortar, who could tie up a
paper parcel, or "split a fig;" who could drive a goose-quill, or ogle
the ladies from behind a counter, very decently; but who knew no more
about the management of a farm than they did about algebra, or the most
intricate problems of Euclid. A pretty mess these gentry made of it!
every one who had saved four or five thousand pounds by his trade must
now become a farmer! They all knew what profits the farmer was making,
and they not only envied him, but they made a desperate plunge to become
participators with him in the booty. There was scarcely an attorney
in the whole country that did not carry on the double trade of
quill-driving and clod-hopping. Most of them purchased land, even if
they borrowed the money to pay for it; and many, many of them, after
having farmed and farmed, till they had not a shilling in their pockets
to support their families, have been compelled to give up their estates
to the mortgagee. As an illustration of this fact, I could point out
numerous instances of this sort of mad folly. I remember an Irish
Barrister, who had married a lady of fortune at Bath, came and purchased
an estate in Sussex, adjoining one that I occupied; and this, as
he expressed himself, he did, that he might have the benefit of my
experience to assist him in the cultivation of it. He was to take the
timber at a valuation, and it is a sufficient proof of his ignorance
of these matters, that he really did not know the difference between a
hazel bush and an oak tree; for, although he was a very clever and an
ingenious man in his way, yet he actually applied to me, to know how
they would measure such _small timber_ as that which he pointed out to
me, which was nothing more than a _hazel bush!_ Such was his ignorance
of country affairs, that he did not know barley and wheat from grass,
nor beans from oats, when growing; and he seriously proposed, as the
best method of hatching young ducks, to set them under the rooks who had
made their nests in the lofty trees that surrounded his house; and yet
this gentleman must be a farmer, forsooth! But I am anticipating my
history. These facts must, however, convince every rational mind, that
this was such an unnatural state of things as could not exist for any
lengthened period. It did, nevertheless, drag on to the end of the war,
when all these _apron farmers_ were brushed off their farms, as one
would brush from off one's leg a fly that was stinging it. These
gentry long since quitted the turmoil and difficulty of _agricultural
pursuits_. Those that purchased have given up their land to the
mortgagee; and those that rented have had their stocks sold to pay
their creditors; and many of them, cursing the evil hour when they
were induced to become farmers, have crept quietly back to occupy the
situation behind the counter, as servants, where only a few years before
they had reigned as masters. These were some of the evils naturally
attendant upon the bad policy as well as wickedness of one nation going
to war to put down and destroy the liberty of another!
I used regularly to attend Devizes market, seldom, if ever, missing a
market-day. After my father's death I was elected, or rather promoted to
his seat, which was that of chairman at the head of the table, at the
principal dining room of the farmers, at the Bear Inn, the best Inn of
the town. I have already described some of the scenes that used to occur
upon those occasions, as to the way in which the bottle was passed about
after dinner; but there is one other important point, connected with
these weekly meetings of farmers, which I deem most worthy of recording.
Those parties were composed chiefly of farmers; but there were
intermingled several large millers, brewers, maltsters, and corn
jobbers from Bath and the surrounding country; and every now and then a
gentleman _bag-man_, or traveller, would join us, which he was sure to
do if there was any one in the town. After dinner the home news of the
day having been talked over, foreign news and politics were generally
introduced; for, since I had been in the King's Bench, my opinion was
considered as some authority, and very earnest and warm debates used
frequently to take place. For some years before this period all
political discussion had been put down with a high hand, by the impudent
and boisterous conduct and assertions of one or two of these Bath corn
jobbers, who denounced any one as a Jacobin who ever dared to utter a
word contrary to the plans of the despots of Europe, or hostile to
the measures of Pitt. As far back as 1794 and 1795, if any one boldly
delivered his sentiments, and reprobated the war as the measures of the
ministers, he was not only denounced as a Jacobin, but he was generally
turned out of the company, and his arguments, instead of being answered,
were silenced by _brute force_. However, my father possessed too much
manhood and liberality to suffer such a course as that to be taken while
he presided.
At our meetings there was an impudent, unblushing, self-conceited fellow
of the name of Perry, a miller and corn-dealer of Bath, who was always
sure to contradict and insult any one who dared advance a liberal
opinion; in which outrageous conduct he never failed to receive the
support of those gentlemen _bag-men_, when any of them happened to be
present; so that every young man, whatever were his pretensions to
talent, was compelled to keep silence, unless he concurred with the
ignorant and slavish doctrines of this hectoring jobber in grain, and
the still more consequential knights of the bag. Having been informed,
by a gentleman of Bath, one day, when I was speaking of this Perry's
insolent conduct, that he was one of Mr. Pitt's agents, paid to
promulgate his doctrines, and to put down the arguments of his
opponents, I took occasion, when I was in the King's Bench, to make
inquiries upon this subject, and any friend Clifford ascertained, from
the most unquestionable sources, that it was one of Mr. Pitt's plans, to
employ and pay, out of the secret service money, almost all the
travellers in the kingdom, at least all those who possessed either a
sufficient stock of impudence or a talent of speaking or arguing in
company, for the express purpose of putting down public opinion, and
enforcing and propagating the measures of the ministers, as the most
wise and politic; and that these worthies were paid in proportion to
their boisterous powers, and their impudence; and the reader will easily
conceive that they soon acquired a sufficient stock of the latter, when
they knew under what powerful auspices they were acting. He also
ascertained that, in addition to these itinerant propagators and
champions of tyrannical and despotic measures, they had from one to
three stationary auxiliaries in every principal town in the kingdom, who
frequented all places of public resort, and were always ready to
denounce any man as a Jacobin and an enemy to his country, who dared to
give utterance to an honest, candid thought. These fellows were so
backed on by the local authorities, that the general feeling being also
pretty much in their favour, their insolence was in many cases almost
insufferable. Few men chose to enter the lists with them, because they
had no chance of fair play, nor any probability of arguing the question
with any degree of candour or liberality; and as a man must have either
put up with flat ignorant contradiction, and open premeditated insult,
or have got into a quarrel with them, conversation on political subjects
was for many years effectually banished from almost every public
company. However, since I had returned from my travels (which is the
slang term of going to prison), I had acquired a considerable degree of
confidence, and, accordingly, the very first time that I found this Mr.
Perry pouncing upon one of the company with one of his rude knock-down
arguments, I, without ceremony, took up the cudgels, and announced that,
as long as I continued to be the chairman of that company, it was my
intention to maintain the freedom of conversation, and I called upon the
company to support me in my determination. If they would do this, every
man would, I said, be at liberty to deliver his sentiments upon public
matters with perfect freedom, as long as he abstained from offering any
personal rudeness or insult to any one present, which should not be
tolerated from any quarter whatever. With one or two exceptions, my
proposal met with general approbation. This said, Mr. Perry made a long
speech, calling upon the company to sustain their character for loyalty,
and to declare themselves church and king men; and he urged them not to
tolerate any thing like republican or free principles. He was heard very
coolly, and even met with some disapprobation, upon which, getting warm,
he declared that no man should utter any jacobinical expressions while
he was present. This very naturally caused a laugh, and Mr. Upstart sat
down, vowing vengeance against all Jacobins. I replied, and informed him
that his notions about jacobinism were thoroughly ridiculous, and that
if he ever heard any sentiments delivered of which he disapproved, and,
in answer to which he could not find arguments, stated in decent
language, the only way for him to act was, to walk out of the room; for
he might depend upon it, if he ever insulted any one of the company in
future, by giving them the lie, or calling them Jacobins and enemies to
their country, if the party would support their chairman, I would put
him out of the room. This was indeed turning the tables upon the loyal
gentlemen, and it shews the alteration of opinions of that same company,
who, a very few years before, had joined in forcing a very worthy man to
quit the same room, merely because he disapproved of the war with
France. This room ever afterwards was notorious for the liberality of
sentiment that pervaded the company; and, as long as I remained the
chairman thereof, the freedom of rational discussion was preserved
unimpaired.
The reader will perceive that I have of late very seldom mentioned the
name of Mrs. Hunt. The fact is, that I did not at this period enjoy that
domestic felicity, of which I had heretofore partaken. I was, as I have
more than once stated, gay, thoughtless, and dissipated. I seldom ever
spent a retired, quiet evening at home, enjoying the rational amusements
of my own domestic fireside. We bad always company at home, or I was one
of a party abroad; myself and Mrs. Hunt were living a true fashionable
life, and we entered into all its levities and follies. This course of
life had drawn us into more fashionable, more accomplished society; and
I own that to me polished manners were a great attraction, and that
those who possessed them, possessed superior powers to fascinate.
Amongst this number I frequently met a lady, who had been bred up and
educated in the highest and most fashionable circles; she was tall,
fair, and graceful, and, as far as my judgment went, every charm and
accomplishment, both corporeal and mental, that could adorn an elegant
and beautiful female, appeared to be centered in her. At first sight I
was struck with her superior air and graceful form, but I soon began
to admire the beauties of her mind more than I had at first sight been
captivated by her person. We were, as if by accident, frequently thrown
into each other's society--a circumstance with which I was very much
delighted; and, as it never occurred to me that there could, by any
possibility, be any harm in admiring and paying respectful attention to
a lovely, elegant, and accomplished female, I never concealed in the
smallest degree the pleasure which I felt in her society. Though for
upwards of twelve months, which was ever since we had become first
acquainted, my attentions had been very marked, yet they had not
attracted any particular notice. I thought, alas! and I professed what I
thought, that I felt the most pure platonic affection for this lady, and
that I was blessed with her friendship in return. My wife had watched
the progress of this attachment with anxiety and pain; she mentioned her
fears, and expostulated in becoming terms against the imprudence of my
conduct, which might give occasion to the world for ill-natured remarks;
and she represented to me that, although my attentions were open and
undisguised, they were very pointed and visible to every one, and that
people would and did talk about it. I professed to set at defiance the
malignant opinions of the envious and the ill-natured, and, as I was
conscious of the purity and honour of my intentions, I was the last man
living that would be likely to forego any pleasure, merely because the
censorious world chose to make their remarks upon it. I saw that my wife
had not the slightest suspicion of any thing criminal, neither was
there the least reason for any such suspicion; but I saw also, that she
dreaded the consequence of such incessant--such devoted attention on my
part, which, although it was received with politeness, and the strictest
propriety, she nevertheless perceived to be not at all disagreeable.
Though this attachment was as pure and disinterested as platonic
affection could possibly be, and although I should quite as soon have
indulged an improper thought towards my own sister, yet the society of
this lady was now become absolutely necessary to my comfort; we were,
therefore, frequently together, and I was miserable if three or four
days passed without our meeting--a circumstance which seldom happened,
notwithstanding we lived at a distance of ten miles from each other.
It will be asked, what said the husband of the lady? for she was a
married woman. It would ill-become me to say more than is absolutely
necessary upon that subject; but, unfortunately he was careless and
inattentive, and knew not how to prize the treasure that he possessed;
and besides, as he never entertained, nor ever had any reason to
entertain, a shadow of doubt respecting his wife, we were constantly
left together. This intimacy had now continued nearly two years, and as
the lady was going to stay with her family in a distant county, I was
invited (almost of course) to pay her a visit while she was there. I
scarcely need say, that the invitation was accepted. Instead of staying
a week or ten days, I remained a month. During the whole of the time, my
attention was incessant; I could not join in any scheme of pleasure or
amusement, unless she was one of the party. Unluckily, too, there was no
one to controul us. Her word was a law, which I resolutely carried into
effect. At length the gentleman getting quite tired of my visit, which
was never intended or professed by me to be to him, but to the lady, he
left us, and went to London. Whenever he was asked by his friends or
acquaintance, if I would not make one of a party to walk, to ride, to
drive, or any other amusement, he invariably answered, "you must ask my
wife, by G--; Hunt is no visitor of mine he is Mrs. ------'s visitor;"
and I, without any ceremony, admitted this, by saying it was perfectly
true, if the lady chose to go I should accompany her, and if she chose
to remain at home, I should remain with her; and this determination I
invariably followed.
Business, however, called me home, a few days after the gentleman left
us, and I went into Wiltshire, about the middle of May, having made
a promise to return in July, to attend the races at Brighton. This was
the longest and most tedious six weeks of my life. I thought of nothing
but my intended visit to Brighton races; and such was the anxiety of my
mind, that it brought on a serious, and, indeed, alarming fever. In
the fits of delirium I raved for the lady who was the object of my
solicitude, and at one period the paroxysms were so violent, that Mrs.
Hunt actually thought that I should have been bereaved of my senses; and
to calm me, she seriously proposed to send an express for the lady. In
a few days the strength of my constitution overcame the disease, and
I recovered. But I found my life was quite a blank; my very soul was
absorbed in thinking and longing for the society of one dear object. I
took not the least interest in the political occurrences of the day;
and, for the first time in my life, I grew careless, and totally
neglected my business. Peace had been proclaimed: such an event, at any
other time, I should have considered a matter of the highest importance,
but that event scarcely excited my attention. Buonaparte was made
first consul for life, and the Legion of Honour was established; this
occasioned a great sensation throughout the country, but the discussion
of these matters created no lively emotions in _my_ breast; my mind was
totally absorbed in contemplating another object. I now began to feel
the fatal effects of indulging such a passion as that of platonic
affection. Though there had never been the slightest variation from the
strict line of virtuous friendship, yet, such was its power over me,
that I found it irresistible. I struggled to break the spell, but I
found it impossible; every effort that I made, only served to wind it
more closely round my heart. I confessed my weakness to Mrs. Hunt; and,
indeed, it was already too visible to her to require any confession on
my part. At length the time arrived for my departure, and the manner of
taking leave between myself and Mrs. Hunt, was very different from what
it had ever been before; it was distressing to both, and appeared to be
clouded with an ominous aspect.
Without dwelling any longer upon this painful subject, suffice it to
say, that notwithstanding it was the very eve of harvest, I proceeded on
my journey. I drove my old friend Robert Clare, in my curricle, and our
servants followed us on horseback. We arrived in the neighborhood of
Brighton, where we were received with great politeness. Clare went to
visit the gentleman, I, the lady. We remained a few days before we
departed for Brighton, where we had taken lodgings for the race-week.
Instead of being diminished, my attentions to the lady increased every
day, and as they became more pointed, and excited the notice of every
one, the husband remonstrated, and threatened to take the lady home.
In fact, he was urged on to do this by some of the lady's family. I
expostulated, but never relaxed my assiduities, and he was indecisive. A
storm was, however, gathering round us, which threatened to burst every
moment; and dreading that separation which appeared worse than death,
at the thoughts of which I was almost frantic, we took the desperate
resolution to put it out of the power of any one to part us. Brighton
was a dangerous place for persons in our situation; there was the Prince
of Wales, our present King, living with Mrs. Fitzherbert, in the most
open and public manner; this was an example too likely to have a baneful
effect upon two persons so doatingly fond of each other, that the very
idea of being parted, produced almost a momentary madness. Such was the
result of platonic affection. Without ever having made the slightest
approach to any thing criminal, our attachment was so riveted, that to
cease to exist would have been ten thousand times preferable to such a
separation, as would have finally deprived us of the power of enjoying
each other's society. The die was cast--my curricle was brought to the
door about one o'clock in the middle of the day; and I prevailed on
her to take a seat, which she did almost in a lifeless state, without
knowing where I was going to drive her. This did not excite the
particular observation of our friends who were of the party, as I was
in the habit of driving her out almost every day. As soon as we were
seated, I drove off to Lewes. Upon the road we met the Prince, Mrs.
Fitzherbert, and Sir John and Lady Lade, in a barouche, returning from
the races. The moment that we arrived at Lewes, I ordered four horses
to a post-chaise, and having written a short letter back to my friend
Clare, to explain the cause of our absence, we proceeded to London with
all possible speed. The friends of the lady followed her the next day,
and every offer was made to induce her to return; but the fatal step
being once taken, there was no retreating, and all entreaties were in
vain, though every inducement was offered and repeated for six or eight
months. I shall only add, that though there can be no justification
for such a rash step, yet if ever there was a female that had received
cause, which greatly palliated, almost to justification, she was that
person. The circumstances were so peculiar and so distressing, that no
legal proceedings were ever taken either against her or myself; but, on
the contrary, amicable arrangements were made.
Perhaps, and no doubt, it will be said by some, that I am an unfeeling,
barefaced offender, thus publicly to blazon forth my own errors. But I
claim the indulgence of my readers to recollect that I have undertaken
to write my own history, and, as I have promised to do it faithfully, no
consideration upon earth shall induce me to conceal from the public my
faults. They, and particularly the Reformers, shall, if I live, know
my character such as it is. It is a duty I owe to them as well as to
myself, and though this is a most painful duty, yet I am determined not
to shrink from the task of performing it with a rigid fidelity. Millions
of the most amiable and the most virtuous, if they cannot altogether
pardon, will know how to make a generous and liberal allowance for the
frailties of human nature. I have a much more difficult labour yet to
accomplish, in narrating the separation that took place between myself
and my wife, in consequence of this fatal step. But as I am quite sure
nothing I ever did in my life can make me appear half so bad as I have
been represented to be, by the venal public press of the country, I
shall proceed deliberately and resolutely to disclose the whole.
The circumstance of our departure from so public a place as Brighton
soon got into all the newspapers, and the intelligence had reached my
home at Chisenbury, long before I got there, whither I was obliged to
return, as it was just in the middle of harvest. I had written to a
friend to meet me there, and to prepare Mrs. Hunt for the interview.
Our meeting I will not attempt to describe; it was most painful for all
parties; I concealed nothing from my wife, and, when she knew the extent
of the evil, with a becoming spirit, she declared her determination not
to share a divided heart. Without going into a detail here, it will be
sufficient to say, that a separation was mutually agreed on, and her
relations were appointed to meet my attorney, to make the necessary
arrangements for carrying it into effect. I disclosed to my attorney my
circumstances as to property, and intrusted him to accede to the most
liberal settlement.