Ten years have now passed since these memorable events. Last winter my journal, which I began to write soon after I first came to London and which I had thought to be lost, was discovered in a box of old clothes. It had grown to fill several notebooks, though of these some were missing entirely, others had lost pages or were badly torn, and one had become unaccountably so damaged by water that I could scarcely read my own writing. But despite all this, the discovery has encouraged me to set out anew my account of those years, which transformed not only my life but also the life of our country; and of the part I and my friends played in those memorable times. It only remains for me now to tell what has become of us and our friends since our marriage.
My
beloved Louisa and I continue to live in great happiness. We now have a son and
a daughter. We live at the Priory, but often in the winter season we go to
London, where to her great joy Louisa has at last been able to attend operas
and concerts, and to have singing lessons from the great masters. I have
introduced her to my London friends, and she has charmed them all. She has
not been idle in other matters, for she has joined a campaign to abolish the
slave trade and has recruited several other ladies to the cause.
Louisa did not wish to reside in the house
where her father had died, so we leased out Stanegate to Martin Clifford,
who is now a freeman of the borough and a man of influence. Becky
joined him there as his housekeeper. It is said that they have married
secretly, but Clifford never talks about his private life. Mrs Waring also
spends much of her time at Stanegate, happily compiling a catalogue of the old
books and firing off long letters about the strange mantelpiece to various learned men.
Mrs Timmis and her brother Ned remain
unaltered, as if both were immune to the passage of the years. I have
transferred some of Sir James’s land to Ned as a freehold, in gratitude for
everything he had done for me. He is cultivating it well, and I have little
doubt that the next generation of his line will be considered gentlemen; though
I trust they will inherit their progenitor’s straightforwardness and honesty. I
also offered him a larger cottage, but he insisted that they were perfectly
happy where they were, though his wife, as usual, did not feel that it was her
place to utter any opinion on the subject. I was, however, able to install a
cast-iron cooking range from Coalbrookdale around the kitchen fire, which
presumably met with her silent approval.
Mrs Timmis persisted in refusing any reward
from me. She finally consented to accompany us on a visit to London, where we
showed her round all the sights of the metropolis. She was thrilled when we saw
the royal carriage pass and she caught a glimpse of Queen Charlotte through the
window. We also took her to the theatre, and I asked her afterwards how she had
enjoyed it. It had only been a trivial comedy, but I discovered that she had taken it very seriously, and
asked me all sorts of questions about it: Why had Lady Tongue believed what
Lord Lovelightly had told her? Surely it must have been plain that he was a
scoundrel? and so forth. I realised that, never having seen a play
before, she had taken what appeared on stage for real life.
Although she said she had greatly enjoyed London, I felt she was relieved when
she returned to her native hearth.
Mr Bunbridge is no more. A year after he
withdrew to Leicestershire, it was reported that he had died of an apoplexy. I was then able to use my influence to have Mr Chamberlain appointed the new Rector. He
is much influenced by Mr Wesley and Mr Whitefield in his sermons, and these,
coupled with his energy in founding Sunday Schools, are having a good
influence upon the parish. The best news has been that directly after his
appointment he married Sarah, Ned Timmis’s daughter! I discovered that he
had loved her for years, but that poverty had hitherto prevented his proposing
marriage. She is a kind and sensible girl and has made him a good wife.
Another of my acquaintances who could not escape
the hand of fate was Black George the highwayman, for he was captured when
attempting to rob a coach near Oxford, and after a speedy trial was hanged at Tyburn. Louisa and I were visiting estates
I had inherited in Wales at the time, and did not hear the news until we
returned. Had I known, I should have made some attempt to spare his life, in
view of the important part he had played in our story. He met his end with an
appearance of great nonchalance, bowing and waving his hat to the crowds that
lined the route and toasting their health in the wine he was given at St Giles to the accompaniment of cheers. He thus remained a consummate actor to the end, or perhaps he was too drunk to show fear. Now more turnpikes are being constructed
and the roads around Mulchester are much safer.
Joseph Byrne had escaped the justice of the law in
the matter of the stolen ruby, but about a year afterwards he was discovered
with his throat cut and a bloodstained knife of Oriental pattern left beside
his body. No-one was ever charged with the crime, but I do not imagine that
this failure to prosecute greatly disturbed the authorities.
The career of Mother Rawton suffered a
setback when she was brought before the magistrates, charged with keeping a
disorderly house. Sir John Fielding pronounced an unusually harsh sentence on
her: to be fined £20, to be imprisoned in the Bridewell for six months and to
stand in the pillory. Had the mob known of her treatment of Louisa, they might
well have stoned her to death, but as it was she was only pelted only with
filth and survived the ordeal; dirty but defiant. She is now believed
to be back in business, as incorrigible as ever. And with regard to this, I
regret to say that my attempts to protect young girls arriving unescorted in
London from falling into the clutches of Mother Rawton and her like have met
with nothing but indifference, both from my fellow Members of Parliament and
the Corporation of London. Far too many, I fear, enjoy or profit from this
maiden tribute.
Lord Teesdale increases in wealth with every
year that passes, and his Countess is kind enough to write from time to time to
enquire about Louisa’s wellbeing. Lord Staines did eventually get married, to
a rich heiress by the name of Miss Francis who was selected by his father. She was
the sort of young lady whom Staines would normally have damned as “insipid”, but just as
he told me he would, he overcame his natural proclivities to the extent of
fathering a child. This duty having been performed, he promptly abandoned his
wife, resigned from Parliament and departed for Italy, where he remains,
leaving his son in the care of the Countess. I cannot imagine that Staines’s
wife, who was well provided for, was too unhappy about this outcome, but the Grahams were outraged at finding
themselves deprived of their expected inheritance. They are thought to be the
source of certain libels suggesting that Staines was not the father of the
child, but that some surrogate man was hired to perform the role, with or
without the knowledge of the wife. These vile stories have reached the ears of
the King and Queen, who are said to be disgusted, though the rabble have
been greatly entertained.
Of
my other friends, John Robertson has entered Parliament, where he has become noted
for the gravity of his manner. George Davies is serving with his regiment in
Massachusetts: I have heard that there is trouble there, and I hope that his
foolhardy courage will not lead him into danger. Henry Darnwell is the only one
to continue in his old rakish ways, and until he finds himself a suitable wife,
I do not expect he will change. He is now assisting the campaign of John
Wilkes, who, as the world knows, has returned from exile and is once again a
thorn in the side of the ministry. Mr Churchill the poet died at Boulogne soon
after our adventure with Mother Rawton, but Mr Boswell returned from his own travels to resume his shameless pursuit of great men and low women. He is now
frequently to be found in the company of Doctor Johnson.
Following the death of Sir James Wilbrahim I expected that Lord Teesdale would put forward his own candidate at the by-election, and was prepared to fulfil my promise to support whomsoever that might be. Instead, who should appear to contest the vacant seat but Elizabeth’s husband, whom I now met for the first time! Mr David Newstead had returned from India with “whole lakhs of rupees” as a jealous acquaintance put it, and much of this enormous wealth he expended in order to enter Parliament. I wondered whether his appearance at Bereton might be some scheme of Elizabeth’s to bring us together; but when I spoke with him, the name of Elizabeth was never mentioned, and she certainly never set foot among us. I was greatly relieved that he appeared to know nothing of my brief but passionate liaison with his wife, and that there was no mention of rubies! Instead, he made a most transparent attempt to bribe me to support him. I declined his offer, but Louisa accepted a gift of some fine brocades and curious carvings in ivory. I declared my complete neutrality, recommended my friends to vote according to their consciences and departed forthwith for London, not returning until the election was over. Mr Newstead even gained the support of Lord Teesdale, no doubt as a result of a large present, and he was in consequence returned unopposed.
But Newstead’s time in Parliament was
turbulent, for he came under fierce attacks regarding the sources of his wealth.
His no doubt rapacious treatment of the unfortunate inhabitants of Madras was
not the principal issue; instead, it was suggested that he had embezzled enormous
sums belonging by rights to the East India Company. There was even a threat
of impeachment, though in the end this came to nothing. He did not defend
himself with any fluency and could not have enjoyed the experience.
As had been predicted, the King was soon resolved
that he could bear Mr Grenville’s wearisome lectures no longer, so he was
dismissed and replaced by a Whig ministry under Lord Rockingham, and then a
year later Mr Pitt returned to office, under his new title of Earl of Chatham.
I gave both these ministries my full support, and in consequence was rewarded
with a post in the Exchequer for life, worth £1,000 a year. My finances were
now at last secure: I paid back any remaining loans from Lord Teesdale, and was
also able to rebuild part of the Priory and greatly extend the gardens. Now
Lord North is Prime Minister: a gentleman scarcely older than myself.
I had intended to resign my seat at the next
election, in accordance with my promise that some friend of Lord Teesdale would
succeed me, and in future would regard all politics from a distance. But as it
happened, the other seat at Bereton became vacant again. The East India Company
summoned Mr Newstead back to Madras in 1768, shortly before the poll was
called, and he has not been heard of since. It is possible that he is dead: he
had long been plagued by gout and other afflictions, the torments of which he
attempted to alleviate by eating or smoking opium; and I fear that his troubles
in Parliament only led to him increasing this perilous consumption.
With Mr Newstead being absent, Oswald Jarrett
was nominated for the vacancy at Bereton, while, at Louisa’s urging, I continued
to stand for the other seat. There was some muttering in the town against a man
deemed to be no more than a puppet of Lord Teesdale, but I supported Jarrett’s
candidature. Louisa took great delight in throwing herself into the campaign, canvassing
support among the wives of the voters, and as the daughter of Sir James
Wilbrahim her opinion carried much weight in the town. We were both duly
returned. Jarrett has proved himself an active and efficient
legislator, always zealous for his patron’s interests, and has attracted the
favourable attention of the ministry. No doubt he will eventually be offered some profitable office in the government.
Whether her husband was alive or dead,
Elizabeth Newstead considered herself free to continue her life of pleasure. I
have met her once or twice in London, when we took care to greet each other
politely but distantly, as if we had never been better acquainted. Although the
years had aged her somewhat, she is still a picture of elegance, and is
invariably accompanied by some fashionably-dressed young gentleman, to the
scandal and amusement of the gossips of the town. I do not attach any blame to
her, having myself been her escort not long before, but I wonder what her sons,
who are now rising young gentlemen themselves, think of her conduct.
Another
General Election is now imminent, and I shall retire from Parliament this time.
I have little doubt that my successor will be another friend of Lord Teesdale,
for the days of the independent gentleman in Parliament are passing away. Henceforth
I shall be content to remain at home with my family, tending my
garden.
……………………………………………………………
I will write no more. I shall place this manuscript in Sir James Wibrahim’s old box, now repaired, and take it to my college in Cambridge, to be lodged there for safekeeping, with strict instructions that it shall under no circumstances be opened until after Louisa and I are both dead. I shall add to this an endowment to fund the education of poor scholars. In due course our children, and grandchildren if we are fortunate enough to have any, and the world at large if the fancy takes them, can learn the true story of our lives.
Finis.
Charles Huntingdon, M.P.
