Memoirs of Henry Hunt, Esq. — Volume 1

by Henry Hunt

The other horsemen had gone on, and were soon out of sight, and I was left in this situation upon the open down, a distance of two miles from my home. Seeing the deplorable state of my poor horse, and knowing, from the nature of the injury she had sustained, that it would be impossible to recover her, I determined to proceed on foot to my home, that I might send some proper person to release her from her misery; and I had gone some little distance on my road, when, on looking round, I found the poor creature hobbling after me, indicating, that it was her wish not to be left alone and abandoned in such a pitiable state. My heart bled for my faithful and noble beast, and I instantly attended to her apparent call upon my humanity. I took the rein, and she followed me home, nearly as fast as I could walk. When we[25] reached there, she was instantly relieved from her pain by the last sad resource, the fatal unerring ball, which, when directed by a skilful hand, produces instantaneous death, without a groan, or scarcely a convulsive struggle. I dropped a tear when she had breathed her last; consoled only by the reflection, that my life had been spared by a merciful and beneficent Creator; for had the poor animal fallen, at the swift pace she was going, my destruction must have been inevitable. What is very remarkable, I never before or since ever knew a horse break its legs, when going at full speed, without falling. But this noble animal, in the struggle, in the amazing effort to save herself from falling, when the bone of her right leg snapped, actually fractured the other. I had the fractured bones of both legs preserved, for the inspection of the curious, for many years afterwards.

This sad accident was a great drawback to the pleasure that I had promised myself in the chase during the spring of the year, subsequent to my return from the King's Bench; and to add to my mortification and disappointment, the first time I mounted my next greatest favourite hunter, I found that it was brokenwinded. I had lent her, during my residence in town, (for it is a farce to call it imprisonment) to a gentleman of the name of Tompkins, who lived at Oakley House, near Abingdon; and he had returned it in the state which I have described, so that my hunting was spoiled for that season.

Upon my being weighed it was not difficult to account for the lamentable fate of my lost favourite. I found that I had increased two stone two pounds during my six weeks comparative inactivity in the King's Bench; for, although I had taken much more exercise than my fellow prisoner, Mr. Waddington, yet it was so very different from, and so much less than, that which I had been in the habit of taking when I was in the country, that I had increased in size and weight in the rapid manner which I have described; and to this increase must be attributed the melancholy accident which occurred to my unfortunate hunter.

My friend Tompkins, who had returned my other hunter broken-winded, in consequence of his servant's mismanagement in feeding, or his own indiscreet riding, upon being informed of the circumstance, very coolly answered, that he was sorry for it; and, in the true stile of a knowing sportsman, he proposed to accommodate me in return—not by lending me one of his hunters for the remainder of the season, but by selling me one, a young horse, as he said, of great power and promise, which would just suit me; and as a great favour he wrote me word, that he would part with it to me, as a friend, at the same price which he had given for it. He invited me to his house to see it, and I accepted his invitation, notwithstanding his sister-in-law, not knowing of his intention to oblige me with it, had previously informed me that he was very much dissatisfied with his purchase; that he had a most unfavourable opinion of the grey horse, and that he would be happy to part with him at a loss, rather than not get rid of what he considered as a very bad bargain. From the lady's description of the horse and of the bad qualities for which Mr. Tompkins wished to dispose of him, I had, however, formed a more favourable opinion of him, and I was therefore determined to trust to my own judgment, and go and see him, particularly as he was well bred. I accordingly visited Oakley for the purpose, and without one word of higgling I gave him his price, which was forty guineas, my friend assuring me that he did it to oblige me, and that he considered himself as doing me no small favour. Thus had this sporting friend, to make amends for the loss he had occasioned me, by breaking the wind of a favourite and valuable hunter, worth little less than a hundred guineas, palmed upon me, for forty guineas, as a pretended boon, a young three years old horse, which he did not think would ever be worth sixpence! So much for sporting, horse-dealing friendships! However, I had no reason to repent of my bargain. I got my horse into condition before I tried him, and he turned out one of the best and most valuable hunters in the kingdom, to the great mortification of my envious and obliging friend; for, early in the next season, when he was only four years old, the Honourable George Bowes, the brother of Lord Strathmore, offered me three hundred guineas for him. I, however, never parted with him, which I had reason to repent, for, a few days after I had refused five hundred guineas for him, my friend Wm. Butcher's horse got loose in my stable, and by a kick broke his fore leg, when I was obliged to have him killed, and so ended poor OAKLEY!

I was rather unlucky in my sporting acquaintance, as will be seen by the following circumstance. Soon after my return from my imprisonment, my friend Wm. Tinker, of Lavington, and his family came to visit me; after dinner, amongst other things that I was relating, relative to what had occurred during my stay at the King's Bench, I mentioned the toast that was usually drank first by the prisoners every day, which was, "Plaintiffs in prison, and defendants at liberty." Mrs. Tinker asked whether I and Mr. Waddington had joined in this toast? I answered, yes; and added, that I believed it was the first toast drank every day after dinner. This she set down at once for a very disloyal sentiment, because my nominal plaintiff or prosecutor was the King against Hunt, and she consequently pronounced me, as I thought in a mere joke, to be a disloyal man, a jacobin. In this opinion of hers she was confirmed, by learning that I had called upon Colonel Despard in the Tower, and hearing me inveigh, in rather warm language, against packed juries, treacherous lawyers, and corrupt judges, and also venturing to call in question, "a la Clifford," some of the measures of the heaven-born minister, she therefore set me down at once in her mind as a rank jacobin; and, as the sequel will prove, she did not fail to act upon this impression—for, about a month afterwards, I received a letter from my only paternal aunt, to say that Mrs. Tinker had informed her, that, since I had been in London, I became a disloyal man, and that I had actually drank at my own table the most disloyal toast, wishing the King to be imprisoned. All my forefathers, said my aunt, had been loyal men, and one of them, Colonel Thomas Hunt, had been by nothing short of a miracle saved from losing his head for his loyalty to King Charles the Second; as therefore I had chosen to take a different course, by professing different principles, she should alter her will, and leave that fortune which she had intended for me to some other persons. She most religiously kept her word; though in my reply I unequivocally disclaimed any intention of offering the slightest insult to the King, or saying any thing that could, without the most wanton misconstruction, be deemed disloyal. Yet I claimed the right to think for myself, and did not admit that, because I professed the most unbounded loyalty to the King, I ought to pledge myself to a blind subserviance and attachment to all the measures of his ministers. All that I could urge against this breach of confidence, in betraying, nay, in misrepresenting a conversation at my own table, and the malignity of Mrs. Tinker's motives, were of no avail. Although this aunt died without any children, and I was her nearest of kin, yet she made my quondam friend, Tinker, her executor, and never left me a shilling. The reader will easily conceive that this neither changed my politics nor increased my confidence in sporting friends. The fact was, that this old lady was an illegitimate daughter of my grandfather, by a relation of this Mrs. Tinker, whom he afterwards married. My grandfather had been induced to leave this daughter a very considerable patrimony, at the suggestion of my father; and, as she died without issue, it would have been only an act of justice to have restored the money to its lawful source. But the kind interference of Mrs. Tinker has sent it in another direction, and I sincerely wish it may prosper with those who have obtained it. I envy them not; I have retained my opinions, and they have got the cash—much good may it do them, I say.

Had not this Mrs. Tinker been a great croney of Mrs. Hunt's, the connexion would have ceased from this time. I was, however, always very cautious what I said afterwards, when Mrs. Tinker was of the party. By her perversion of a conversation which occurred at my own table, by her officious misrepresentation of me, she had been the cause of my losing some thousand pounds. This was the first instance in which I experienced the serious consequences of sporting liberal opinions. But it was not the only instance in which this good lady (who was always called mother by her family and friends, from her very motherly habits) had an opportunity of doing me a good turn in the same way. Another elderly lady, Mrs. Watts, of Lavington, who had voluntarily made her will, and left me property and estates, as being her nearest and only relation, upon being taken ill desired that I should be sent for; but my evil spirit, Mrs. Tinker, who was a neighbour, sent for another lady, and they contrived, as they said, to get the old lady to alter her will in her last moments, and leave her property away from me to other persons. This was effected in such a manner, and at such a time, and under such circumstances, that I should have disputed the will had I not been afraid of exposing a relation of my own, who was privy and instrumental to this mysterious transaction. It is sufficient to say, that the old lady never signed her name, although she wrote a most excellent and legible hand, this precious instrument bearing only her mark; and the maid servant, who attended her, would have proved quite sufficient to have set aside the will, and exposed the parties concerned; but, as one of them was a very near relation of mine, and one whose faults I have always been anxious to conceal and palliate, rather than expose and condemn, I put up with the loss without opposing the proof of the will. There is one fact more connected with this case, which I will state, to show to what extent the cruelty of some persons will lead them, when they wish to accomplish a bad action. The maid informed me, and offered to swear it, that her mistress had constantly, during several days illness, expressed the most urgent desire to see me, and was anxious not to sign or to do any thing about her will, till I arrived. She was, however, as repeatedly put off, by the assurance that I had been sent for, and did not choose to come, though I was the whole time at home, at a distance of a few miles, and never received the slightest intimation of her illness till after her death.

By this circumstance I may with great fairness reckon myself minus about five thousand pounds; so that the politics which I had learned in the King's Bench were not to me a source of profit; but, on the contrary, had proved hitherto most detrimental to my pecuniary interests. But, thank God! I was never a trading politician; for if I had been such, my losses would have very soon made me a bankrupt in the cause.

At this time, however, though the sentiments which I entertained upon public matters were never concealed, but were, when occasion required, expressed openly, and without reservation, I attended much more to my business, to the sports of the field, and to my own pleasures, than I did to politics. My farming concerns were well regulated and attended to, though I spent a great portion of my time in fox-hunting and shooting, and likewise kept a great deal of company; scarcely a day in the week passed that I was not out at a party, or had one at my own house, but much more frequently at home. This period I consider as far the least interesting portion of my life. I kept an excellent table, had a good cellar of wine, and there was never any lack of visitors to partake of it. The old adage, "that fools make feasts and wise men partake of them," I cannot refrain from acknowledging to have been pretty much realized at Chisenbury House. When I look back, and recollect the train of hangers-on that constantly surrounded my table, amongst the number of whom was always a parson or two, I am induced to exclaim, in the language of Solomon, "it was all vanity and vexation of spirit!" My life was a scene of uninterrupted gaiety and dissipation—one continued round of pleasure. I had barely time to attend to my own personal concerns; for no sooner was one party of pleasure ended than another was made. The hounds met at this cover to-day, at that to-morrow, and so on through the week. Dinners, balls, plays, hunting, shooting, fishing, and driving, in addition to my large farming concerns, which required my attendance at markets and fairs, and which business I never neglected, even in this heyday of levity and vanity; all these things combined, left me no leisure to think or reflect, and scarcely time to sleep—for no sooner was one pleasure or amusement ended than I found that I had engaged to participate in another; and I joined in them all with my usual enthusiasm. In the midst of all this giddy round of mirth and folly, I enjoyed less real pleasure and satisfaction, than I had done at any former period of my life. I saw and felt that there was little sincerity in the attachment of my companions; for there was no real friendship in their hearts, though they would praise my wine, admire my viands, and bestow the most unqualified compliments upon the liberality with which they were dispensed. Their praise on this score was certainly merited; for whether it was a dinner party or a ball, at Chisenbury House, no expense or trouble was spared to make the guests happy, and to send them away delighted with the entertainment.

What a scene is this for me to look back upon. I might be said to have got into the whirlpool, into the very vortex of endless dissipation and folly! I saw and felt my error, but I knew not how to retreat. My wife, too, entered into the very marrow of this round of pleasure and gay society. The means to support all this were never wanting; for I found myself in possession of landed property in Wilts and Somerset, at Littlecot and Glastonbury, of the value of upwards of six hundred pounds a year, besides all the large farming business which my father had left me. There was, therefore, no deficiency of money; and I owe it to myself to say, that large as was my expenditure, I took care never to live fully up to my income; but had every year something considerable to lay by or to assist a friend with.

Fond as I then was of pleasure, no man attended more strictly to his farming business than I did; and the farms of no man in the kingdom were managed better, or were in higher condition. My farms at that time were like gardens, and much cleaner and freer from weeds than most gardens; and I had the best flock of Southdown sheep in the country, bearing the very finest fleeces, the wool of which I sold for the very highest price in the kingdom. I one year sold my wool, consisting of four thousand fleeces, for a penny a pound more than was given for the boasted wool shorn from the flock of the famous Mr. Elman, of Glind, in Sussex. When, at an agricultural meeting, he was told of this fact, he very coolly answered, that his wool was most decidedly the best, and that the superiority of price which Mr. Hunt had obtained arose merely from the want of judgment in the purchaser. This question was, however, set at rest the very next year—for the wool dealer who had purchased Mr. Elman's wool, having heard of my flock, came all the way out of Sussex, from the neighbourhood of Chichester, and purchased my fleeces at three half-pence a pound more than he had given for the crack Sussex wool, and he paid for the carriage, a distance of fifty miles, into the bargain. After this, Mr. Elman never disputed the point as to the superior quality of my wool. I mention this circumstance merely to show how determined I was to excel in every thing which I undertook—at least, that I did every thing with enthusiasm. I afterwards sold eight thousand fleeces at once, to some manufacturers, Dean, Forsey, and Co. of Chard, in this county, at the highest price that any wool sold for that season. Mr. Dean subsequently purchased twenty lambs at my sale, that he might have some of the stock; which he sold to me again, when I called upon him some time afterwards. Out of this circumstance, an infamous and scurrilous falsehood was propagated in the columns of the Taunton Courier, representing me as having swindled my friend Mr. Dean out of a flock of sheep. When I come to that period of my history, I shall fully explain the affair to the satisfaction of every candid person, and I shall convince every honest man, that the columns of the Taunton Courier have been made the vehicle to promulgate the most barfaced and wanton falsehood against me, to serve a political purpose; and that, in this instance, the Taunton Courier has never been exceeded in infamy, even by the falsehoods of its brother Courier in London.