Chapter XI: Part 11

The year 1810 commenced, by the Citizens of London, in Common-Hall assembled, having voted a petition to be presented to the King. The Sheriffs and City Remembrancer had waited upon the Secretary of State (Marquis Wellesley), to ascertain when it would be His Majesty's pleasure to receive it. Upon which the Noble Secretary informed them, that he would take His Majesty's pleasure upon the subject; and at the following levee he let them know, that it was His Majesty's pleasure that it should be presented through the Secretary of State.

Since the BRUNSWICKS came to the throne of England, this was the first instance of a petition agreed to at a Common-Hall being refused to be received in person by the King.

Alderman Wood, who was one of the Sheriffs, requested that he might be admitted to a private audience of the King. This was refused; and the Sheriffs having called another Common-Hall, they laid the report of the affair before the assembled livery, who passed a series of spirited resolutions, asserting their right to deliver their petitions to the King on the throne, and instructing their representatives to move an address in Parliament, to be presented to the King, to inquire into the violation of the right of petitioning. Mr. Sheriff Wood received an unanimous vote of thanks from the Common-Hall; while the conduct of his colleague, Atkins, evinced his character, and was a pretty faithful index of his future subserviency to the "powers that be." Petitions were now presented to the King, not only from the city of London, but from Berkshire, and other parts, calling for an inquiry into the disgraceful Walcheren expedition. When Parliament met, the war in Spain and the expedition to Flushing were warmly canvassed; but, of course, the Ministers carried every question with a high hand and large majorities, and the business ended in a vote approving of the conduct of Ministers, in planning and executing that disgraceful and costly expedition.

Mr. Perceval, an insignificant lawyer, now suddenly became First Lord of the Treasury, and Chancellor of the Exchequer, to the astonishment of the whole nation. During the Walcheren inquiry the debates ran very high in the House of Commons, and a member, Mr. Charles Yorke, cleared the gallery of the strangers. This act being discussed in a debating society, Mr. John Gale Jones, who was acting as the president, was committed to Newgate, by a Speaker's warrant, for having been guilty of a breach of privilege. This proceeding drew from Sir Francis Burdett an address to his constituents, which was a very able and spirited composition. It was also voted to be a breach of privilege, and a libel upon the House, and the Speaker's warrant was issued for the apprehension and committal of the Honourable Baronet to the Tower. Great riots took place in London, which lasted two days, in consequence of Sir Francis Burdett resisting the execution of this warrant, and barricading the doors and windows of his house in Piccadilly. At length, however, he was taken to the Tower under military escort: on their return from the Tower the military were hissed and pelted, upon which they fired on the people, and three men were killed. The coroner's inquest sat upon the bodies, and in two of the cases brought in a verdict of wilful murder, and in the third, a verdict of _justifiable homicide_. As in a late instance, however, the murderers were allowed to remain not only unpunished but untried.

Sir Francis Burdett was at this time the most popular man in England, and he was idolized by every lover of freedom in the united kingdom. In his resistance to the illegal warrant, he had barricadoed his house, into which the Serjeant at Arms had made several unsuccessful attempts to gain admission; and it was expected that the latter would attempt a forcible entry, as he had received positive orders from the House to execute his warrant by force. I shall here relate an anecdote on the subject, which came to my knowledge soon afterwards. A Noble Lord, a gallant naval officer, and M.P. called upon the Baronet one morning, attended by a friend, in a coach, out of which a cask was handed into the Baronet's house; and, as a friend, he was admitted of course by old John, the porter. Upon his Lordship's entering the Baronet's room, he communicated his plan for the defence of the castle, in case any attempt should be made to effect a violent entry. He very deliberately proposed to undermine the foundation of the front wall, and deposit there a cask of gun-powder, which he had brought with him for the purpose, so that he might blow the invaders to the devil, in case they should attempt anything like a forcible entry. At this proposal, which was made with every appearance of sincerity, Sir Francis Burdett started, and answered that he had not any intention of resistance any farther than trying the question, to see whether they would break open the house or not. The gallant tar then retired, apparently very much disconcerted, and he was particularly requested to take away with him the cask of gun-powder, which he did immediately. The next morning the Serjeant at Arms and his attendants broke open a window-shutter in the front area, entered without the least resistance, and conveyed their prisoner to the Tower. While these things were going on in London, I had been busily engaged in the country, defending myself in the Courts of Law at the assizes for the county of Wilts, which were held at Salisbury. As the indictment preferred against me by John Benett, Esq. on the part of his gamekeeper, Stone, was intended to be made a serious charge against me, I was prevailed upon to confide the conducting of my defence to counsel. Much against my own inclination and judgment, did I give up this point, to oblige my friends, who were most earnest in their solicitations upon the subject. Mr. Burroughs (the present Judge) and Mr. Casberd, were employed for the prosecution; and I at length suffered my attorney to give a brief to Mr. Sergeant Pell. The cause was called on, and Stone positively swore to the assault, which he declared had deprived him of his senses, and that he had not been well since. Another person, who never saw one atom of the transaction, and who was never near the place till it was all over, swore to the same facts, and confirmed Stone's evidence; and although I knew this fellow was swearing falsely, and though I pointed the fact out to Sergeant Pell, that the witness was not near the place, yet he was so alarmed, or pretended to be so alarmed at the case, that I could not prevail upon him to cross-examine the witness. The next witness who was called swore that he was a surgeon, that he lived at Amesbury, the adjoining town; that he had attended Stone, whose life had been in danger; that Stone had been greatly and seriously injured in his health; and that, in his opinion, he would never recover it. This appeared to stagger and confound my counsel more than ever, and I could not get him to ask the man a single question; although it struck me that this witness was grossly perjured. Well! Mr. Sergeant Pell made what he called a speech, which, in my opinion, admitted a great deal more than was necessary. My friend, Mr. John Oaks, was then called, who positively swore that the ruffian, Stone, had assaulted me first, by striking me and nearly pulling me off my horse, without any provocation whatever. My friend, however, who had never given evidence in a court of justice before, was a very awkward, hesitating witness, and he received a very severe cross-examination from Mr. Burroughs. Baron Graham summed up, and charged the Jury that I had, by my own showing, been guilty of an assault. He had, he said, no doubt but the man Stone had struck me first, as sworn by Mr. Oaks; but he thought that I had given the man more than a sufficient quantum of beating in retaliation, as I had struck him three times: if it had been proved that I had only struck him once, in return for the blow he gave me, he should have charged the Jury to acquit me; but, as it was, they must find me guilty of the assault. He, however, totally acquitted me of that with which I was charged by the counsel against me, namely, of having acted with inhumanity and cruelty. The Jury, of course, gave a verdict of guilty; and the Baron took my word that I would attend in the Court of King's Bench, in the next term, to receive judgment.

The next day was fixed for trying the action which Michael Hicks Beach had commenced against me, for a trespass. A similar attempt was made, by my attorney and my friends, to induce me to leave the conducting of any cause to counsel. Little Frederick Williams, the barrister, was employed, or he volunteered his services, to prevail upon my family to persuade me to leave my defence to Mr. Sergeant Pell. I heard all that they had to say, but I resolutely resisted all their intreaties; and declared that I would not only defend myself, but that, as long as I lived, I would never employ a counsel. I would, I told them, endeavour to manage my own affairs in the Courts, let what would happen. To this resolution I have ever since most inflexibly adhered; and I am sure that I shall continue to do so as long as I have strength and power of utterance. I believe that Mr. Erskine once observed, that "a man who pleaded his own cause, had a fool for an advocate." This was reported to me; and my answer was, "that it might be very true, but I had a great consolation in knowing that I had not a rogue for a counsel."

The cause was at length called on; and as it was known that I intended to plead my own cause, it excited great interest, and the Court was crowded to excess. Mr. Burroughs opened the case against me, in a very vindictive speech, in which he travelled widely out of the course to find matter to attack me. The Judge ought, in strictness, to have stopped him; but I believe the worthy Baron (Graham) who presided, gave me credit for being quite a match for Mr. Counsellor Burroughs, and therefore it was that he suffered him to proceed. After having proved that notice not to go upon the lands of the said Hicks Beach had been served upon me, Burroughs called as his first witness a fox-hunting parson, of the name of Williams, who was the Curate of Netheravon, and dubbed chaplain to the squire. The clerical witness proved the trespass, that I had, in following Colonel Thornton's fox-hounds, in company with the rest of the sportsmen who were out, ridden over a part of the land belonging to Beach, and in the occupation of Farmer Jenner; which land I had received notice not to trespass upon. This toad-eating parson I knew well, and I was well acquainted with his occupation; which was literally that of whipper-in to the squire's hounds. He was as much at the squire's beck and command as one of his menial servants in fact, I had often seen him obey such orders as no servant would have obeyed. I have heard Mr. Beach, when a hound skirted, halloo out, "d--- my blood, Williams, don't you see that bound! flog him in, or cut his liver out," &c. &c. Then his reverence would ride like the very devil; and this was such a common thing, that I have heard the huntsman order him about in the same way. I have heard the latter say, "d--- it, Sir, why do you not ride and head the hounds?" and he has frequently observed to me, and other sportsmen, "By G-d, that d----d Parson stuffs himself so at master's table, that he is got as lazy as a cur." I therefore did not fail to give this reverend sporting witness a pretty severe cross- examination, although the Baron tried hard to protect him. I made him confess, upon oath, that he was the time-serving tool which I have above described; and all that I wanted I drew out of _him_, in order to save myself the inconvenience of calling any witness of my own; by which means I prevented any rejoinder to my reply to the famous speech of Counsellor Burroughs. He, the witness, admitted, that the hind that was named "Mrs. Clark," was turned out several miles from the land of Mr. Beach, and that she accidentally ran that way; that Mr. Beach himself was one of the horsemen who joined in the chace; that he never complained of my riding over his tenant's farm; and that, during the chace, the said Squire Beach had actually _rode nearly a mile over one of my farms_, without any interruption from me.

Upon these facts I grounded my defence, and in a speech which occupied about an hour, to which great attention was paid by the Judge, I urged the Jury to consider their oath, and acquit me of any wilful trespass. In the course of this speech I replied to the observations which fell from the learned counsel, and took occasion to retort upon him with some severity, with respect to those points which he had so unfairly introduced in his speech. He rose and claimed the protection of the Court, and trusted that his Lordship would not sit there and hear him attacked in such a way. Baron Graham smiled, and very coolly replied, "Brother Burroughs, I am very sorry that _you_ travelled so much out of the record; although I was loath to interrupt you, yet I assure you it was very painful for me to hear it; but, as _you_ did so, I should ill perform my duty if I were to attempt to prevent the gentleman who is the defendant from repelling those assertions which you made, of which you offered no proof, and for which, by the shewing of your own witness, there was no foundation; therefore, Brother Burroughs, I must beg that you will not interrupt Mr. Hunt, but suffer him to proceed--Go on, Mr. Hunt." Mr. Burroughs jumped up in a passion, and said, in a peevish, angry tone, "Well, my Lord, if you do not choose to protect me, you will not, at any rate, compel me to stay in Court to hear myself abused;" and then, tucking his gown under his arm, he made a hasty retreat out of the Court, foaming and muttering all the way to his lodgings.

The worthy Baron summed up strongly for a verdict for the defendant, broadly stating that there was no pretension to say that it was a wilful trespass; and adding, after having recapitulated most of the arguments which I had urged in my speech, that he was much more inclined to believe it to be a malicious and frivolous action, than he was to say that it was a wilful trespass. I gave the said Michael Hicks Beach a pretty sound dressing, which the Baron not only recapitulated and concurred in, but he also gave him some very wholesome advice, and a very severe admonition.

It was an "especial jury" of brother magistrates and brother game- preservers; and it is, therefore, not wonderful that they returned a verdict for the plaintiff, with a shilling damages; which, in a wilful trespass, was always held to carry costs, provided the Judge would _certify_. Mr. Sergeant Lens now rose, and informed the Judge, that his Brother Burroughs, before he left the Court, had requested him to apply to his Lordship to "certify." The Baron pretended not to hear him; the Sergeant repeated the application in a louder voice; and Baron Graham then replied, "it is not necessary for me to certify in Court, I believe, Brother Lens?" "Yes, my Lord," said Lens, "I never knew a Judge refuse to do so, upon a verdict of trespass after notice." "Brother Lens! Brother Lens!" retorted the Baron, "I do not feel justified in my own mind to certify, upon my oath, that this was a wilful trespass, although the Jury have returned a verdict, upon their oath, that it is so; at all events I shall not certify in Court; I shall take time to consider of it."

Baron Graham never certified to this hour, and my vindictive opponent had to pay his own costs, which, I understand, amounted to upwards of eighty pounds. This is an instance of the upright inflexible honesty of Baron Graham; and this is the Judge, I understand, who, together with Baron Wood, are about to be laid upon the shelf--and a precious pair of tools we shall have in their place, I'll warrant you!

On the next day, I enclosed a shilling in a letter to Squire Beach, admonishing him, in the language of the worthy Judge, and advising him to prepare for war, for I was determined upon retaliation. Unfortunately for me, my attorney was a most artful, plausible, cunning fellow; and at the same time that he openly professed to advise me not to go to law, he insidiously held out the most luring baits to draw me into the meshes of his net, in which he was too successful. I was a rare pidgeon, and he never failed to pluck me well.

I kept my word with Mr. Beach, and in a few days I had an information laid against his whipper-in Parson, and one of his tenants, Thomas Horne, for sporting, they not being qualified; and as soon as they were convicted in the penalties, I followed it up by commencing an action against each of them for a similar offence. I also served in the same way another fellow, who was a friend of Beach's, one Edmond Stegg, of Chisenbury; in all of which suits I got a verdict; and, to be even with him, I brought his second son, William Beach, before a bench of Magistrates, to make him prove his qualification; which he at length did, with considerable difficulty and expense. The famous Richard Messiter, an attorney, of Wincanton, came all the way from that place in a chaise as a witness; and John Ward, an attorney, of Marlborough, attended as another witness; so that this chap got out of the scrape at an expense to his father of about fifty pounds. Messiter, who was called at that time _honest Dick Messiter_, swore that he had advised his father to make a conveyance of an estate to him, to qualify him, the deed of which was executed only the day before the action was commenced against him. The Squire was also obliged to qualify his whipper-in Parson, which he did by procuring for him a living; so that it is an ill wind that blows no one any good. But all this while my cunning attorney was the bird that was feathering his nest charmingly. He took care to fleece all that came within his grasp. What voracious sharks are these attorneys! I was successful in all these actions, yet, every now and then, I had a long bill to pay to my attorney. I do not say that this limb of the law was any worse than the rest of his profession (always admitting that there are _some_ most honourable exceptions); but I must say that this worthy had the address to manage his matters better, and to cast his net with more cunning and adroitness than any one of the fraternity that I ever met with. I was a thousand times forewarned of him, by some of his _old friends_; but I was over confident, and I met my reward, as my eyes were not opened till I had suffered to the amount of many thousands of pounds by my credulity.

At the latter end of May, I was called up to the Court of King's Bench for judgment, for the assault upon Stone the gamekeeper. I did not employ counsel, but offered in person what I had to urge in mitigation. I put in affidavits, to prove that the witnesses who gave evidence upon the trial were perjured; and that the doctor, who attended and swore that he lived at Amesbury, was an impostor; that no such person had ever lived there, or had ever been heard of before or since. The sentence was, that I should be committed to the custody of the Marshal of the King's Bench for three months. During the time that Mr. Justice Grose was passing sentence, Ellenborough leant back in his seat, and said to Le Blanc, loud enough for me to hear him, "He will not go down to Salisbury to attend the writ of inquiry, and get another verdict of _no damages_ this time."

I had forgotten to mention, that the writ of inquiry was not executed at the Spring Assizes, it having been put off by the parties, to see whether I should not be caged during the Summer Assizes, when they might have an opportunity of bringing it on in my absence. As soon as I was sent to the King's Bench, I received notice, from Astley's attorney, that the writ of inquiry would be executed before the Judge of the Summer Assizes, to be held at Salisbury. I immediately employed Henry Clifford to move the Court to delay the inquiry till the following Spring Assizes; as it was necessary to the due administration of justice that I should be present. This application was refused. I then got Mr. Clifford to move for a writ of _Habeas Corpus_, that I might be taken down to Salisbury, at _my own expense_, to attend the inquiry. This application the upright Court also refused! At the Assizes the writ was therefore executed before the Judge. The witness, the shepherd, the same witness, was called, and proved the fact, that I was upon the plaintiff's down, and as the case was totally undefended, the Judge directed the Jury to give a shilling damages. The Jury hesitated; every man amongst them well knew the facts; they retired, and, after an hour's deliberation, they returned a "_farthing damages_." If I had been present to ask the witness one question, the Jury would have inevitably returned a verdict of "_no damages_;" the same as the two former Juries had done. In fact, one of them told me, that they gave in the verdict of one farthing very reluctantly; and, as they knew the case, they very much regretted that they had not themselves put the question to the witness, as, if he had once sworn that there was no damage done, nothing on earth should have induced them to have given any damage.

Thus ended the struggle for the _right of English Juries_ to give their verdict agreeable to the evidence, as they were bound by their oaths to do, in spite of the equivocal rules of Courts, or the arbitrary dicta of Political Judges. I have no doubt that the conspiracy against me by the stock-purse gang, in the instance of Stone's assault and indictment against me, was got up for the sole purpose of getting rid of this question, as to the rights of a British Jury to give a verdict agreeable to the evidence, in spite of a ridiculous and illegal rule of Court, made at the arbitrary will of corrupt Judges. The truth is, that Stone confessed that he was hired and well paid to assault me, for the purpose of procuring an indictment against me; and by that means I was to be got out of the way, that this dirty job might be executed in a court of justice in my absence. Stone being discharged from his situation, offered to hire himself as my game-keeper, and to divulge the whole plot, and appear as a witness against his former employers. I, however, rather chose to put up with the loss which I had already sustained, than to employ such a treacherous villain, and to encounter fresh law expenses, which I now began to feel were most ruinous, notwithstanding I conducted my own business in the courts. I had, besides, ascertained that the stock-purse gang were always delighted when they found they had entrapped me into a law suit, although my late successes had caused a heavy drain upon the subscribers, some of whom began to grumble at the expense, and to declare off.

As soon as I was conducted to the King's Bench, I began to look out for apartments; I having made up my mind to remain the three months within the walls, as I did not feel justified in making the indispensable sacrifice (the usual fee to the Marshal) for residing without the walls. Several prisoners, who were in distressed circumstances, offered to give up their rooms at various prices, in proportion to their eligibility; but, as the prison was excessively crowded, none of them struck my fancy or suited my taste. I therefore applied to Davey, who kept the coffee- house, and immediately agreed with him, at a reasonable price per week, for a bed and the sitting-room over the coffee-room. This is the very apartment that Colonel Bailey, the uncle of the Marquis of Anglesea, lately inhabited, whose application to the Court of King's Bench was argued the other day, on his complaint of the conduct of Mr. Jones, the Marshal, and Poole, the coffee-house keeper, and of various interruptions and insults which he received from the prisoners who frequented the coffee-room; by which means, Poole (who, by the bye, was the person who attended me here) lost his situation. Nothing could exceed Poole's civility to _me_, and I have always heard that he was a very civil, well-behaved, obliging fellow. I can only say, that the whole time that I lodged in these apartments, which was six weeks, I never received the slightest interruption from any one, or the slightest incivility or insult from any one of the prisoners.

The Marshal was not at home when I arrived, but as soon as he came to his office in the morning, I received a polite message from him, requesting to see me, and being disengaged, I immediately waited upon him. When I came to his room he accosted me in a very kind manner, expressing regret for my sentence, but he added, that he should feel great pleasure in rendering my imprisonment as little irksome as possible, and that he should be happy in doing any thing for my accommodation. I own that I did not, at the first view, give this worthy man the full measure of credit that was due to him; for I could not help feeling a strong suspicion that he had an eye to his usual fee for indulgence. In consequence I addressed him as follows:--"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Jones, for your kind and friendly offers of accommodation; but, to tell you the truth, Sir, this is the case--When I was last committed to your custody, which is now nearly ten years ago, I had more money than wit; and I paid you very cheerfully for the accommodations that you afforded me, for which I was very grateful; but the case is altered, I have now more wit than money, little as the former may be. To speak without metaphor, since I was last your prisoner, I have had many a hard tug at any purse in my endeavours to support my independence: prudence, therefore, compels me to remain within the walls, and to forego (however reluctantly) your proffered kindness." Mr. Jones took me by the hand, and looking me steadily in the face, he replied, "Mr. Hunt, you have misunderstood me. I am fully aware of the truth of your observations. I am not altogether ignorant of what has occurred, but it would ill become me, in the situation I am placed, to give any opinion upon your case. This, however, I know, that while you were under my care you conducted yourself like a gentleman, and acted towards me with the strictest honour, and in return I can only say, you are welcome to reside without the walls, but I will not accept a penny of your money, neither will I put you to the slightest expense of giving any security. Your word, as a man of honour, to be forthcoming when called upon, is perfectly satisfactory to me, and you are at liberty to go out whenever you please. The only thing I will accept is, (I know you are a sportsman) when you return into the country, send me a basket of game, and I shall be perfectly satisfied." I thanked him sincerely for his handsome behaviour, but I told him that I had procured very comfortable lodgings at his old coachman's, Davey's, over the coffee-room; and as I did not expect my family in town for a month or six weeks, I would remain where I was till that time, when I would accept his offer. "Very well," said he, "please yourself;" and ringing the bell he called the Deputy Marshal, and said, "Recollect, Sir, to see that Mr. Hunt is properly accommodated at Davey's, whilst he remains here, and in the meantime, till his family comes to town, take care that he has the run of the key." That is, to pass out and into the prison whenever I pleased. The Deputy Marshal left the room, and after some time spent in conversation upon the occurrences of the day, I bid him good morning and took my leave; the door was opened, and I walked into the street, whence I returned into the prison.

This was the treatment which I received from the Marshal of the King's Bench Prison. I did not forget to send him a handsome basket of game, not only that season, but many following; and I regret that I ever had the negligence to omit doing so. However, if this should meet the eye of any of my numerous sporting friends, which I know it will, he that sends in my name a basket of game directed to William Jones, Esq. Marshal of the King's Bench Prison, London, will confer a lasting obligation upon, and afford great pleasure to, the "Captive of Ilchester," particularly if he will drop me a line to say that he has done so.

Sir Francis Burdett was now a prisoner in the Tower, and I was a prisoner in the custody of the Marshal; but as I had the run of the key, and as the Baronet had not, a very few mornings elapsed before I paid him a visit, entering my name at the lodge of the Tower, as Mr. Hunt of the King's Bench--this might be said to be impudent enough. When I was committed to the King's Bench in 1800, I paid a visit to poor Despard in the Tower; while I was there in 1810, I frequently visited Sir Francis Burdett in the same place.

At this time there were a great many young men of fashion within the walls of the King's Bench for debt, with some of whom I frequently associated, and joined in the game of fives. The Hon. Tom Coventry was an expert player, as he had been an inmate several years. Young Goulbourn, the brother of the Under Secretary of State, was also there. I was invited, and frequently made one of their parties. Goulbourn and I were generally pitted as opponents, both in politics and at rackets; he was a clever young man, and the author of the Bluviad, a satirical poem, which he had written upon his brother officers of the regiment of Blues, for which he was either indicted or had an action brought against him for a libel, I forget which. This young buck, of whom I recollect many an anecdote, the last time I was in London I saw stuck up upon the benches of the Court of King's Bench, with a large wig upon his head, amongst the junior counsel behind the bar. I do not recollect ever seeing his name mentioned, as being employed in any cause; neither do I remember ever seeing him with a brief while I was in the Court. As, however, his brother is now appointed Secretary to Marquis Wellesley, the new Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, I dare say that this Gentleman will have some employment found for him, better, or at least where he can earn his money more easily, than drudging at the bar.

The feeling excited all over the kingdom, by the arbitrary proceedings of the House of Commons, in committing Sir Francis Burdett to the Tower, had, instead of diminishing, increased in a ten-fold degree, and might be said to be now at its height. The City of London, or at least the Livery, went in grand procession, preceded by Mr. Sheriff Wood, to present an address to Sir Francis Burdett in the Tower. Resolutions, petitions, and remonstrances, were also passed at many other places; for instance, at Southwark, Coventry, Liverpool, Nottingham, Sheffield, &c.

While this was going on in London, Napoleon divorced the Empress Josephine, and married the young Archduchess Maria Louisa, and the nuptials were celebrated in Paris with a degree of splendour and magnificence surpassing any thing of the sort ever before witnessed. Many of Napoleon's best friends and warm admirers highly blamed him for this match with the House of Austria, the deadly enemy to every thing that bore the slightest resemblance to liberty. Others blamed him for divorcing the Empress Josephine--but to those it maybe replied, he openly avowed his purpose to be that he might have a family, and leave a heir to the throne of France. Instead of following the example of other Monarchs, who had gone before him, and who, when they had wished to gratify their caprices or their lusts, did not hesitate to rid themselves of their wives by accusing them of some crime, and procuring perjured villains to swear against them, by which means the unfortunate females were divorced or had their heads taken off. Napoleon boldly avowed his love for Josephine, and acquitted her of all suspicion of blame; instead of becoming the dastardly assassin of her character, that he might aim a blow at her life, he continued to cherish and to protect her to the last.

Mr. Cobbett was tried and found guilty of a libel in the Court of King's Bench, and was ordered up for judgment on the 5th of July; when, after a hearing of the Attorney-General, Sir Vicary Gibbs, he was remanded to the King's Bench, to be brought up again on the 9th, and he was unexpectedly brought down thither while I was sitting writing a letter. I heard that he was in the Marshal's house, endeavoring to make some arrangement for his accommodation. I instantly hastened to my friend, and desired him to make himself quite easy upon that subject, as I had possession of the best apartments with-in the walls, which I would give up immediately for the accommodation of himself and family, and I would shift for myself in the best way that I could. This he accepted without ceremony, and what was very satisfactory to me, was, that he made no annoying apology for the inconvenience which, in the mean time, I might be put to, in finding a situation for myself. There was one great pleasure in obliging such a friend, as he never put me to the blush by making any scruples about accepting one's offer, or by using any unmeaning palaver, about being afraid of his friend's putting himself to an inconvenience on his account. I must give Mr. Cobbett the credit for being totally free from any squeamish fears or apprehensions of this sort; and I beg to declare that, on this very account, I always felt a great additional pleasure in obliging him. Some persons may be ill- natured enough to miscall this selfishness, and I know those that have been illiberal enough to do so; but, as for myself, I could never be induced to view it in that light, as I always thought him a man of superior mind and great talent; it was not at all surprising that he felt his own superiority; and, to accommodate such a man, his friends never thought any sacrifice too great; at least I never did. At all events, I felt great pleasure that I had it in my power to contribute to the convenience of himself and his family; and I was perfectly satisfied to put up with a very small bed-room, in which I could scarcely stand upright, for the four days that he remained there.

While Mr. Cobbett was in the King's Bench, he was violently attacked by some of the writers belonging to the public press, and accused of having offered to compromise with the Government, by giving up his Register, and undertaking to write no more upon politics. Amongst this number was Mr. Leigh Hunt, of the _Examiner_. No man felt more indignant at this attack upon my friend than I did; and as I was made to believe that there was not the slightest foundation for the calumny, I lost no opportunity to condemn, in the most unqualified terms, all those who had been guilty of such base conduct as that of falsely accusing a man, at such a moment, of that which I held to be a political crime of the deepest die. "Love me, love my dog," was a maxim that was firmly implanted in my breast. He, therefore, that injured my friend, made me his enemy; nay, I was much more ready to resent an insult offered to my friend, than I was to resent injury done to myself. It seems I was yet very young in the ways of the world; so, instead of leaving Mr. Cobbett (who was so very capable) to defend himself, I became his champion, and assailed all those who had attacked him. I considered the conduct of Mr. Leigh Hunt as most unworthy, he being a writer in the cause of Liberty, and espousing those principles of good government for which Mr. Cobbett, as well as myself, had been so earnestly contending. I charged him with wishing to raise his fame and his fortune upon my friend's downfall; and this was so strongly impressed upon my mind, that I believed it to be the sole cause of his propagating what I considered the foulest and most wanton calumny. I consequently spared him not, and so far was my friend from checking my imprudent zeal, that he encouraged it; and what made me the more earnest was, that he held it to be more dignified that he himself should treat such preposterous slander with silent contempt. I laid on most unmercifully also upon the editor of the _Times,_ on the same account, both publicly and privately; by which indiscreet warmth for my friend, I rendered two of the most powerful public writers of the day, and who had the most extensive means of disseminating their opinions, my most implacable enemies. For many years the columns of the _Examiner_ poured forth, upon every occasion, the most bitter sarcasms, and the most unjust and wanton attacks upon my character, both private and public, and this, too, at a time when I had not the slightest means of defence, as I had not the least possible power or influence over the smallest portion of the public press. To be sure, I have no one to blame but myself, as, at the time, many good friends warned me of my folly. Their argument was, "what have you to do with Cobbett's quarrels--is he not capable of defending himself?" But although I daily suffered the most severe attacks from the public papers, I still had the hardihood to persevere in his behalf; and I never for a moment doubted the correctness of my assertions till one day, that, as I was passing under Temple-Bar, I chanced to meet Mr. Peter Finnerty. At some public meeting, on the preceding day, I had been attacking some of the editors of the public press, for their cowardly falsehoods and calumnies against my friend Cobbett. Drawing me aside, and taking hold of the button of my coat, Mr. Finnerty began to reason with me in the most friendly and convincing language. He pointed out the folly of my attacking the editors of the _Examiner,_ the _Morning Chronicle,_ and the _Times,_ in defence of Mr. Cobbett's conduct, when I had no means of repelling the attacks of those writers upon my own character. "Even," said he, "had you proof of the truth of your assertions, that Cobbett never offered to compromise with the Government, even then it would be great folly in you to take up the cudgels for him; you who have not, in any portion of the press, the slightest means of vindicating your own intentions. _You_ have drawn down a nest of hornets upon your own head; it is quite a different thing with Cobbett, he has all the means of defence, he has a great command of the press; and, besides, it sells his Register into the bargain. Follow the advice which I give you as a friend, take care of yourself; you will have quite enough to do to answer for yourself, and do leave Cobbett to do the same."

This exhortation was delivered in so earnest a manner, that I sometimes began to think that I might by possibility _have been wrong._ I was certainly more guarded in future, but all the mischief was done; I had excited the most inveterate hatred of the _Examiner_ and the _Times,_ neither of which papers ever let slip an opportunity to abuse, vilify, and misrepresent me. They certainly have had more than ample revenge upon me for my folly and credulity. They have both occasionally made the _amende honorable;_ and I believe that the editor of the _Examiner_ has been long since convinced, that I was actuated by the most honourable feeling in resenting his attack upon Mr. Cobbett. It is, however, an acknowledgment due from me to him, to say, that I was never wholly convinced of my error till the trial of "Wright _versus_ Cobbett," which took place in the Court of King's Bench, since I have been here. Notwithstanding all the violent abuse and unjust assertions that have been published in the _Examiner_ against me, I am bound in common honesty to acknowledge my error, and to apologise to the editor of that paper, for having been the first aggressor; and at the same time to assure him, that I was impelled to commit this error from a firm conviction, and the most unqualified assurance, that the assertions made in the _Examiner_ were not only false in the main, but were even without the slightest foundation in fact. As for the editor of the _Times,_ it is not necessary for me to offer any apology to him. That paper has so often, when edited by Dr. Slop, alias Stoddart, and even up to this very time, given insertions to the most wanton and barefaced lies about me, which the editor himself knew to be false when he wrote or admitted them, that I hold the principles of its conductor in the greatest contempt. Money is his god, and he would abuse the most perfect character in the universe, or praise the most abandoned, if he thought it would sell his paper. The study of the editor is to follow public opinion, whatever it may be, he never attempts to lead it. I have a gentleman now sitting with me, who assures me that he has heard one of the persons most intimately connected with that paper say, that the proprietors and managers of the _Times_ were well disposed towards Mr. Hunt, and that they had the highest opinion of his talent and integrity; but that they abused him for the purpose of pleasing some of their readers, and selling their paper.

On the ninth of July, 1810, Mr. Cobbett was brought up for judgment, for the libel of which he had been convicted by a _special_ jury. The sentence was, two years imprisonment in Newgate, and a fine of 1000_l_. to the King, and to find security for his good behaviour for seven years. The boroughmongers had now got _myself_ in the King's Bench, and _Mr. Cobbett_ in Newgate. Almost at the same time Sir Francis Burdett was liberated from the Tower. His release took place on the 21st of June, and, previous to it, the electors of Westminster resolved to meet him at the Tower Gate, and to bring him in grand procession to his house in Piccadilly. A splendid car was provided for the occasion, and arrangements were made on a magnificent scale. I myself had opportunities of communicating to him the progress of these preparations, for many days previous to the day of his liberation, as I visited the Baronet often while he was in the Tower. I was a prisoner in the King's Bench, when Despard was in the Tower, and, as I have already stated, I visited _him_ with Henry Clifford; I was also a prisoner in the custody of the Marshal, while Sir F. Burdett was a prisoner in the Tower, and I frequently visited _him_; and I also very frequently visited Mr. Cobbett in Newgate. I mention this to show what sort of imprisonment it is, being in the King's Bench. In fact, it is no imprisonment at all. I was in the custody of the Marshal, and he knew that I should not attempt an escape, and, therefore, I went where I pleased.

When the day arrived on which Sir Francis Burdett was to quit the Tower, immense multitudes flocked to Tower-Hill, and various parties of citizens of London and Westminster attended to join the procession. Major Cartwright and Alderman Wood attended, to head separate parties. Mr. Place, of Charing-Cross, the political tailor, had undertaken to head the horsemen; Mr. Samuel Miller, the shoemaker, of Skinner-street, Snow-hill, also headed a large party of the citizens of London. Innumerable parties came from all parts of the country, and, as it was a fine day, the spectacle was expected to be very brilliant. I certainly meant to witness it, although, being a prisoner, I did not intend to take any conspicuous part in the procession.

I slept within the walls, and when I got up in the morning, the doors of the King's Bench were closed for the day, and no one, except the officers, was allowed to pass out or in; and, in consequence of the strong public feeling that was created, the prison was surrounded by a regiment of soldiers. Though I could not obtain egress, I raised a subscription amongst some of my acquaintance in the prison, and we had a butt of porter hoisted out of the cellar, and gave it away amongst the poorer prisoners, to drink the health of Sir Francis Burdett. Towards the evening we were told, by some of the officers of the prison, that Sir Francis had disappointed his friends and the people, and had escaped over the water in a boat, and fled privately to Wimbledon. This we would not believe; and we, of course, set it down as a hoax of the officers, particularly as all other means of information were cut off for that day in the prison. So far were we, who were friends to the Baronet, from giving credit to this story, that we actually caused the whole of the interior of the prison to be illuminated; and such was the universal feeling, that every window was lighted up.

The next morning, when the doors were opened, we learned that it was a fact, that the hero of the day had actually sneaked out at the back- door, or rather out of a trap-door, and escaped unobserved over the water, without giving any one of his friends the slightest hint of his intention. At last, after waiting till their patience became nearly exhausted, the parties were informed of the trick that he had played them; upon which they retraced their steps in the procession, with the empty car, amidst the jeers and scoffs of all those who were inimical to the politics professed by Sir Francis Burdett, who was by them universally designated "Sir Francis _Sly-go."_

The Westminster Electors were not only disappointed, but they were very indignant at the slight which they had received at the hands of their Representative; and some of them went so far as openly to brand the Baronet with the charge of cowardice. Amongst the latter was Francis Place, the Charing-Cross tailor, who, in the most coarse and offensive manner, accused the Baronet of being a d----d coward and a paltroon. Hearing of Mr. Place's violence, I endeavoured to ascertain the cause of his vindictive expressions, and my astonishment was very great, when Mr. Miller informed me, that the said Francis Place had undertaken to head one part of the procession, but that, when the day came, the said tailor neither kept his appointment nor sent any excuse for his absence.

The reader will not fail to draw his own conclusions with respect to this conduct of the political Westminster tailor, this leading cock of the Rump, particularly when they couple this transaction with that of the said tailor having been selected to act as _foreman_ upon the famous inquest which was held upon the body of _Sellis,_ the late valet of the Duke of Cumberland, who had been found in his bed with his throat cut, in the apartments of the Duke of Cumberland, at a time when the said Duke was understood to have had his _hand_ and other parts of his body wounded with some sharp instrument. If Francis Place abused the Baronet, the Baronet, on his side, did not fail to return the compliment, and to describe the said tailor as a suspicious character. At all events, it was a very extraordinary occurrence, that the most violent, professed Republican, should have been selected to act as foreman to an inquest which sat upon the body of a person found dead, under the most suspicious circumstances, in a Royal Palace. It is said that, since that period, Mr. Place has been a very _rich man;_ but that, before that time, he was a _poor, very poor Democrat._ The way in which I have heard Sir Francis and the present associates of this man speak of him, is enough to excite the surprise of any one who is acquainted with their present intimacy. Colonel Wardle always entertained the same opinion of this man that Sir Francis Burdett did, and he always advised me to avoid him. I did not fail to follow his advice. The fact is, that I was never upon intimate terms with any of this Rump, and only knew them enough to be able to keep an eye upon their motions.

A few days after this, my family came to town, and we resided in lodgings which I had taken in the London-road. To these lodgings Sir Francis Burdett one day came unexpectedly to take a family dinner with me. He informed me that it was the first visit which he had paid to any one since he left the Tower; and he appeared very anxious to know what I thought of his manner of leaving the Tower, and also to ascertain what were the sentiments of the public upon the subject; as he had not, he said, had an opportunity of hearing any honest opinion upon it, he having read only the comments of the newspapers. I told him my opinion very honestly, that I very much disapproved of the step which he had taken, and so did all the persons with whom I had conversed upon it; but I added, I was too warm a partizan of his to say this to others, or suffer them to say so, without expressing my belief that he had some good and substantial reason for following such a course, and I pressed him hard to tell me that reason. All, however, that I could get out of him was, that Lord Moira, the Governor of the Tower, had persuaded him to do so. From that moment Sir Francis Burdett lost the confidence of the people; he had deceived them, and they never placed implicit faith in him again. No man but Sir Francis Burdett could have served the people such a scurvy trick, and have preserved even the smallest portion of popularity afterwards; but he had gained great hold of their affections by his public exertions, although those exertions were much more of a general than a specific nature.

While I remained in London, I constantly visited Mr. Cobbett in Newgate; and, after I returned into the country, I occasionally went to London for the purpose of passing a few days with him in his prison; and this I continually repeated till the time that he left Newgate altogether.