Memoirs of Henry Hunt, Esq. — Volume 2

by Henry Hunt

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.

When I returned to Sans Souci Cottage, I enjoyed the sports of the field with quite as much glee as ever, and with a zest not in the slightest degree abated by my sentence of three months' imprisonment. At the end of the season I made the hares' scuts which I had preserved, amounting to two hundred and fifty, into a handsome pillow, which I had covered with satin, and sent it to my opponent, Michael Hicks Beach, as a mark of the contempt in which I held him, and as a trophy of the sport which I had enjoyed during the season. This was taken, as I meant it should be, in great dudgeon, and he complained of it very bitterly to some of my friends. My sporting was now confined to my gun. I had, in a great measure, given up hunting, for two reasons; first, because I had gone into Leicestershire, and resided at Melton Mowbray one season, for the purpose of enjoying fox-hunting in the highest perfection, by alternately joining the Duke of Rutland's and the Quarndon pack of fox- hounds. Those hounds were hunted in such a masterly style, and the whole business was conducted in such a superior manner, that I never afterwards could bring myself to relish fox-hunting in Hampshire or Wiltshire. In truth, it was not like the same sort of sport, fox-hunting in Leicestershire being so very superior. I really saw more fine runs in one week, with the Duke of Rutland's pack, and the Quarndon pack, which latter pack was then kept by Lord Foley, than I ever saw with a West- country pack in one year. The next reason for my giving up hunting was, that, in consequence of my weight, it was become too expensive, as it required a horse of from two to three hundred pounds value to carry me up to the head of the hounds, where I always rode as long as I followed hunting.

I still resided in Bath in the winter, and at Sans Souci Cottage, in Wiltshire, in the summer and autumn. One evening, Mr. Fisher, who had the management of the White Lion Inn, at Bath, which he conducted for Mr. George Arnold, called at my house, and sent in a message, to say that he wished to speak to me in private. I desired him to walk in, as I did not wish to be entrusted with any secrets but what might be known to my family, who were sitting with me. At length he informed me, that the French General, Lefebvre, who had been a prisoner in England, had been staying some days at the White Lion, waiting for a remittance from London, to take him thither on his road to France, to which country he was returning, either by an exchange of prisoners, or on account of some arrangement between the two Governments; that he had been disappointed of his expected remittance, and that he had not enough cash to pay his bill and his coach hire to London, whither he was most anxious to go; and, therefore, he had proposed to leave a beautiful miniature of Napoleon, for which that distinguished character had sat, and of which he had made a present to the General, after some battle in which he had fought bravely under the eye of the Emperor. Fisher had declined to take the miniature in lieu of, or at least in pawn for, the bill; and the General, in the greatest distress, and anxious to return to France, in obedience to the call of the Emperor, urged him to try and raise a sum upon it. Mr. Fisher told him that he did not know any one in Bath who would give any thing for it, unless Mr. Hunt would, who was an avowed admirer of Napoleon, although he believed him to be no connoisseur in paintings. At the pressing request of the General, Mr. Fisher said he had brought the miniature to shew me, and out he pulled it from his pocket. It was contained in a small morocco case, about four inches by three; but when it was opened it presented to the eye one of the most beautiful specimens of miniature painting 1 ever saw. I asked Fisher what was the amount of the bill? He replied, some shillings under ten pounds. I desired him to return, and say, that if the General would part with the miniature for that sum, I would advance the money; but that I would purchase it if I had any thing to do with it, and not make an advance upon it as a loan to be repaid. Mr. Fisher soon returned to say, that, although the General lamented very much to part with the miniature, which was the gift of his sovereign, yet, that necessity had no law, and that I might have it by paying the bill; which I immediately did, and received the miniature.

Some months afterwards, Madame Lucien Buonaparte arrived at Bath, in her road to the residence of Lucien Buonaparte, at Ludlow, in Shropshire, and she stopped at the White Lion for the night. In making her inquiries of Mr. Fisher about General Lefebvre, when he was in Bath, the circumstance of his having been obliged to part with the miniature of Napoleon was mentioned. She instantly said, that she recollected the circumstance of her brother having sat for the miniature, and presenting it to Lefebvre, with a lock of his hair; and, mentioning the name of the artist, expressed a great desire to obtain a sight of the picture, if the gentleman was in Bath. A polite note was accordingly written to the lady to whom, at the time when I purchased the miniature, Mr. Fisher had seen me present it; and she was requested to permit Madame Buonaparte to see it. The lady immediately sent it to the inn by her maid, who was introduced into the room to Madame Lucien, who instantly exclaimed, that it was one of the very best likenesses of Napoleon that was ever painted, and that it recalled him to her recollection more than any thing she had ever seen since she had left Paris. This likeness was taken immediately after he was made First Consul, and it is admitted by all the Frenchmen that it was ever shewn to, to be a very beautiful and correct likeness of him, as he was at that time. She wished the servant to ascertain whether the lady would put a price upon it, but she was promptly answered, that her mistress had instructed her to say, that no price should purchase it. After having caressed and shed tears over it, Madame Lucien returned it to the servant, begging the lady to accept her grateful thanks for having allowed her to see it. I shall have hereafter to relate what passed at an interview which I had with the General, who came to England at the time of the peace, to endeavour to reclaim the picture.

About this time a fire broke out at Auxonne, in France, in which town twenty-one English prisoners of war were confined, who exerted themselves vigorously to extinguish the flames. On this coming to the ear of Napoleon, he instantly ordered them to be paid six months pay, and gave them passports to return home to England. I mention this circumstance as a proof of the liberal and noble mind of the brave and persecuted Napoleon; particularly when contrasted with the mean and dastardly conduct of those in power in this country. On a similar occasion, when the fire took place in this gaol, the other day, [Footnote: Alluding to the partial conflagration of Ilchester Gaol, Thursday, November 15th, 1821.] twenty-five of the prisoners, with myself, exerted ourselves, as was represented by the keeper to the Magistrates, in the most exemplary and praiseworthy manner; but our rulers do not know how to perform a generous and liberal act, they do not possess a particle of that noble and magnanimous character, which animated the gallant Napoleon.