During this contest I was baited like a bull; it was very different from any election that ever took place before, for I tore the mask from all parties, and all factions; in doing which I exposed myself to a combination of the whole press of England, all the managers of which were leagued together to abuse, to misrepresent, and belie me. The Tory, the Whig, and the Burdettite press attacked me not only without mercy, but also without the slightest regard to truth or fair play; and that portion of the press which was either under the influence or in the pay of these three parties consisted of more than nineteen twentieths of the press of the whole kingdom!
After the election had proceeded for a few days, it was found that upon the poll Sir Francis Burdett was left considerably behind Sir Samuel Romilly and Sir Murray Maxwell. Major Cartwright's and Mr. Douglas Kinnaird's names were, therefore, withdrawn from the contest, and the friends of both those gentlemen joined to support Sir Francis's election, which appeared to be in great danger. As, however, I had no such views as they had, my exertions being daily and solely directed to open the eyes of the electors of Westminster to what I conceived to be the gross negligence of Sir Francis Burdett with respect to the cause of the people, it was determined to stand out the contest, especially as I had made an affidavit, before the Lord Mayor of London, previous to the commencement of the election, binding myself to keep the poll open to the last hour allowed by law. Notwithstanding this affidavit, which had been printed, and posted all over London, a little impudent Irishman, of the name of Cleary, whom I have mentioned before, as a sort of writer or clerk, hired as such by Major Cartwright, came forward upon the hustings, and in a broad Irish brogue called upon me to tender my resignation, and to render all the assistance in my power to promote the election of Sir Francis Burdett, and took the liberty of insinuating that I could be no friend of the people if I did not do so. Nothing could equal the impudence of this upstart, paid secretary, this hireling of the Major's; he was no elector of Westminster, and had no legal business whatever upon the hustings in Westminster. However, I treated this proposition with the silent contempt that it merited; and this drew down the malevolence of the Rump, of which this Cleary now formed a part. They denounced me as a spy of the Government, and every thing that was base; and they put no bounds to their abuse. In the evening, as I was addressing the electors, and defending myself against these assassin-like attacks from the Rump, I stated the circumstance of their having prevented the holding of a public meeting in the metropolis, which meeting I had proposed for the purpose of raising a subscription, to enable Brandreth, Turner, Ludlam, and others, who had been indicted for high treason at Derby, to fee counsel, and pay the expenses of their witnesses, so as to obtain a fair trial; and I of course alluded to the dirty trick which had been played me, in order to prevent the meeting, by writing me a letter, in the first instance, to say that a meeting would be called, and then putting it off when it was too late for me to come to London to call the meeting myself. I did this in general terms, without mentioning any names; upon which Cleary came forward, and unblushingly declared that what I had said was false, and that there was no letter whatever of the sort written to me. On this, there was a general call "produce the letter, name, name." In reply I asserted, that not only was such a letter written, but Cleary himself was the writer, and that he had gone so far as to say, in the letter, that he was so offended with the prisoners who were charged with high treason, that he could almost find it in his heart to go down and hang them himself. Cleary again presented himself, and, in the most solemn manner, called God to witness, that what I had said was totally devoid of truth. The clamour of the party of the Rump committee, now became excessive, they one and all bawled out, "produce the letter!—you cannot, Hunt!—it is all false!" At length I vociferated that I would produce it the next day. I thought I had the said letter amongst some others in my trunk, but, upon looking them over, I found that it was left at Middleton Cottage, with my other papers. I therefore dispatched one of my family into the country, a distance of sixty-one miles, to enable me to perform my promise, and the demand of the party. The next day I was obliged to state the fact, that the letter was in the country, but that I had sent an express for it, and it should be produced as soon as that messenger returned. Upon this the whole gang burst out into a forced horse laugh, swearing that it was all false, that I had no such letter, and that I never could produce it.
On the following day, which was Sunday, I received the letter from the country. In the meantime all the London papers had misrepresented this affair in the most scandalous and unprincipled manner, and every one of them agreeing that I had made a groundless charge against Cleary, and intimating that the story of the letter was a fabrication. The gang had, in reality, contrived to raise a general outcry against me. Monday, however, came, too soon for them, and on the hustings I then produced the letter, and offered to read it; but the tumult raised by the party, totally prevented it from being heard. This being the case, I promised to have it printed the next day. I kept my word, and one thousand copies were circulated; upon which Cleary produced a letter from Mr. Cobbett, said to have been addressed to a person of the name of Wright. In this letter, written, I believe, ten years previous to this epoch, Mr. Cobbett grossly abused me, and represented me as a sad fellow, and recommended to the Westminster committee to have nothing to do with me. As on the face of it this epistle appeared to have been written some years before I knew Mr. Cobbett, I felt no anger or resentment against him; although it certainly showed that he possessed a bad heart, to be capable of writing such gross and palpable falsehoods and malignant calumny against a man whom he knew only by report; which man, report must at the same time have convinced him, was a zealous and persevering friend of Liberty. The former cry was now dropped, and in its place was substituted another. It was impudently pretended that I had behaved very unhandsomely, in producing and publishing a private letter of Cleary's; though the fact was, that it was a public letter written upon public business, by a man who was a sort of public general secretary for all public matters debated on and meetings held in Westminster, and who was also the paid secretary to Major Cartwright and the Hampden Club! To bring forward a charge of this kind against me, was stretching impudence and falsehood as far as they could possibly go.
The next morning a note was put into my hands, which had been delivered open at my lodgings, on the preceding night, after I had retired to bed. This detestable composition contained a challenge from Mister Cleary, together with a great deal of vulgar Billingsgate abuse. I inquired who delivered it, and I was informed that between twelve and one o'clock, about two hours after I was in bed and asleep, some one knocked at the door, which was opened by my female servant, upon which three fellows rushed into the passage, and demanded to see me. The servant, however, informed them that I was gone to bed, and could not be disturbed. After behaving in a very boisterous and bullying manner, they gave her a letter, and informed her that it was a challenge for her master to fight a duel, and they desired, or rather ordered her to give it me as soon as I rose in the morning. All three of them refused to leave their names. When I rose, rather late in the morning, I found that this famous challenge had not only been read by all the females of my family, but that all the people in Norfolk-street, in which I lodged, had been informed of it, and the intelligence had also been communicated to the Magistrates at Bow-street. Two Bow-street officers were likewise observed parading the street, apparently to watch me out. Now, I will candidly appeal to my readers, and ask if ever they heard of a challenge to fight a duel having been delivered in such a way before? A challenge, avowed as such, and delivered unsealed, to a female, by three drunken Irishmen (for such my servant described them), between twelve and one o'clock at night, after the person challenged bad been in bed and asleep for hours, and not one of the party consenting to leave his name! To suppose that this poor creature meant to fight, or that those who brought his challenge, and gave it open to my female servant, ever intended that he should fight a duel, would be the height of credulity. Yet, to crown the joke, this very fellow, Cleary, was put forward upon the hustings, the next day, and actually read a copy of his blackguard challenge, which he said he had sent to me the night before. This was done in the presence and bearing of Mr. the present Sir Richard Birnie, and other police magistrates. Was ever the like of this performed before in England, or any other country? The reader will perceive that this was a trick, and a very clumsy one, to endeavour to get me taken into custody, and bound over to keep the peace. Yet the venal hireling press blazoned it forth to the world, that I had injured and behaved very unhandsomely to Mr. Cleary, by publishing his letter, and that I had refused to give him the satisfaction of a gentleman, when he demanded it!! Everyone knows this was done to create effect. If Cleary had ever meant to fight me, he would have taken a very different course; he would have sent some confidential friend to communicate with me in private.
This stratagem, however, clumsy as it was, had the desired effect, and such was the beastly and scandalous misrepresentation of the whole London press, that many very worthy and honourable men think to this day that I ill used Mr. Cleary. They say it was unhandsome to produce his letter. It is difficult to conceive on what moral ground they come to such a conclusion. Now, let us see what others, who were impartial, disinterested eye-witnesses of the affair, let us hear what they say upon the subject; for no one, perhaps, can be a thoroughly fair judge of the question who was not present. I will here insert an extract from a letter, signed "Leonidas," and published in Sherwin's Register, on the 26th of December, 1818. After stating that the only apology which was ever offered by any of the Rump for Cleary's conduct was, that I had behaved unhandsomely in divulging Cleary's letter about the prisoners at Derby, he says——
"But this unhandsomeness, what was it? The present writer was near the hustings on that occasion, and a plain tale, uninfluenced except by principle, will put the whole thing down.
"Mr. Hunt, whose elocution, though bad, is not attended with any embarrassment, a token either of a clouded intellect, or of conscious finesse, spoke, in order to set himself and those who so nearly and furiously persecuted him in a clear point of view before the people assembled at the hustings, which he had a right to do, of the prisoners at Derby, of his own conduct towards them, which was most courageous and humane, and of the conduct of the party at Westminster on the same occasion, which was assuredly supine to a frightful degree, to speak in no stronger language. In the midst of the most horrid yelling of the party, from whom he was continually obliged to appeal to the mob below, as Mr. Kinnaird, unused to his new nomenclature, called them, Mr. Hunt mentioned that the party in Westminster had done less than nothing to save the lives of the Derby prisoners. So far from aiding them, one had written to him that nothing could be done, and the writer had declared his own indignation against the unhappy men for disgracing the cause to be such, that he could almost go down and hang them himself.
"This was all fair, quite unobjectionable. Whether it was judicious to introduce this topic, is quite another question. While Mr. Hunt was speaking in half sentences, on account of the clamour from the hustings, and from the stages in front of them, where the party usually took their station, there was an evident feeling of uneasiness prevailing, a consciousness that Mr. Hunt had more to say than it was pleasant to hear; and this feeling broke out in one burst of foolish interruption when he arrived at this point, and a din was raised of 'name, name; it is all a lie, the scoundrel, the villain, name, name.' Mr. Hunt seemed to pause. The present writer had not the least suspicion of whom he had to name. When the demand was often repeated, and the noise had somewhat abated, he came forward, and, with evident reluctance, pronounced, 'It was Mr. ——,' who by this time had placed himself in front of the hustings, and with writhing contortions uttered some most passionate exclamations.
"Well, this was not sufficient. The cry now was, 'produce the letter, produce the letter; you cannot, you blackguard; it is a lie,' &c. &c. Mr. Hunt could not, at the instant, produce the letter; but said it should be forthcoming the next day. It was not produced the next day, when the grossest abuse was poured on him from the usual quarter. The party would not hear his explanation, that it was left in the country, and scarcely could this assurance reach the ears of the more indifferent spectators. An express was sent for it, who could not return without some delay. In the interval, Mr. Hunt was assailed with every opprobrious epithet of liar, scoundrel, base slanderer, and exclamations, 'He cannot produce it, it is all a fabrication,' &c. &c. At last, the letter came, and an attempt was made to read it, without effect. Mr. Hunt was obliged to say, 'Well, you shall have it printed to-morrow.'
"I am not conscious that I misrepresent a tittle of this most abominable scene, such as I hope never to witness again among human beings. This was the unhandsome way that is said to justify the production of a private letter of Mr. Cobbett, even if it had been written by him; a letter now however proved to be a forgery, and of the genuineness of which no evidence was sought even at the time, except that it was furnished by Mr. Place, the tailor.