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[p1] On my return to England I immediately joined my regiment, the first regiment of guards, in which I was an ensign. I may, with truth, say, that I knew my duty better than nine ensigns in ten, at their debut on the parade at Whitehall; for I not only was acquainted with the common parade-duty, but absolutely [p2] knew the manoeuvre of a battalion; for I had made my profession my study, and was devoutly attached to a military life.

I was almost instantly launched into the great world, and introduced into the most distinguished companies in this country. When first I trod the paths of pleasure in this gay town, my country was arrived at the very height of national grandeur, and was not as yet on the decline. She was powerful, and respected all over the world; both her fleets and armies were victorious wherever they went; the country was rich, from many years' peace, after a glorious seven years' war. It was then that Great Britain, in the hour of her insolence¹, drew the jealousy [p3] and vengeance of the European powers. There was abundance in every part: the necessaries of life were at a moderate price; the people were happy, joyful and contented: the middle man then lived well; the nobility and gentlemen were in general in a state of opulence; and there was scarcely such a thing to be seen in the land as a poor gentleman. England then basked in the sunshine, from the vigorous and successful measures of the great Mr. Pitt, who wielded the democracy of England in one hand, and smote the House of Bourbon with the other. He guided the affairs of this country in war with manly vigour, and in negociation with sincerity, ever scorning those political refinements of which others vainly boast: sincerity he ever took for his guide, and his country's honour for his glory: his fame did not [p4] consist in triumphing, in a speech of four hours, over a fallen foe, in the senate, but in victory over a foreign enemy: he was dreaded abroad, and loved at home. The magnificence, elegance, splendour, and extravagance of the times cannot be described. To frequent the polite circle in those days, a young man must have been polite, well bred, well educated, and well dressed: they seldom came into the world till one-and-twenty, and not till they had travelled, or been in some foreign country, for a couple of years at least. It is of the greatest utility for a young man to be absent in a foreign country for a considerable time. Aboard, he must behave well, and be polite in company, or he will have half-a-dozen swords through his body in a week, which will soon teach him good breeding, better than any thing else I am acquainted [p5] with. In these days, young men are thrown into the world between fourteen and fifteen years of age, from Eton or Westminster school, with their mind and manners equally unformed. A young man may now come in at a lady's assembly or ball-room, head or tail foremost, in a trot, a walk, or a canter -- it is all the same; and if he behave ever so rude, it is only looked upon as a levity of youth. If a gentleman in these days has but a few guineas in his purse, and will walk directly up to the Faro-table, he will be the most welcome guest in the house: it is not necessary for him to speak, or even bow, to a single lady in the room, unless some unfortunate woman at the gaming-table ask him politely for the loan of a few guineas: then his answer need be but short -- "No, Dolly, no; can't;" for this ever will be received [p6] as wit, though the unfortunate lady's bosom may be heaving, not from the tenderer passions, but with grief and despair at having lost the last farthing.

When I first came into the world there was no such thing as a Faro-table admitted into the house of a woman of fashion: in those days they had too much price to receive tribute² from the proprietor of such a machine. In former times there was no such thing in all London as gaming at a private house, although there was more deep play at the clubs at the time than ever was before or has been since. It is lamentable to see lovely woman destroying her health and beauty at six o'clock in the morning at a gaming-table. Can [p7] any woman expect to give to her husband a vigorous and healthy offspring, whose mind, night after night, is thus distracted, and whose body is relaxed by anxiety and fatigue of late hours? It is impossible. Besides, there is a greater evil attendant on such practices. Gaming and liquor have debauched more women than all the solicitations of the whole race of man. To appear in company, it was necessary to be full-dressed: no person wore a frock in the evening; a dress-coat, bag, and sword was constantly worn even in the playhouse; and no gentleman ever attempted to go into the side-boxes in boots. There were no impertinent box-lobby loungers in those days, to insult women as they pass, and disturb the performance. Every man then, though not full-dressed, but only [p8] in his plain frock, wore a sword. I have seen one or two impertinent fellows drawn upon immediately, and stuck up against the box-door. Now, every barber dresses as well as a gentleman: and cards of address, every night almost, are reciprocally exchanged at the playhouse between the apprentices of a muslin-seller and a man-milliner, who all wear cockades, and pass for officers. -- As for myself, I was extremely extravagant in my dress. For one winter's dress-clothes only, it cost me nine hundred pounds. This extravagance is likely to astonish the reader: but what, in my opinion, should strike him with more wonder, is that I absolutely paid the tailor: this expense was only for dress-suits. I employed other tailors to furnish servants' clothes, and morning and hunting frocks, &c. for myself.

[p9] I was always handsomely dressed at every birth-day: but for one in particular I put myself to a very great expence, having two suits for that day. My morning vestments cost me nearly eighty pounds, and those for the ball above one hundred and eighty. It was a satin coat brodé en plain et sur les coutures; and the first satin coat that had ever made its appearance in this country. Shortly after, satin-dress clothes become common amongst well-dressed men. Great officers of state are in honour compelled to appear in a handsome suit of clothes at the birth-day of their king: it is but a small part of that gratitude and duty they owe to their sovereign, for the dignified situations he has given them, to attend on his person. I had no office of emolument, advantage, or trust about his Majesty's person, excepting an ensigncy in the first [p10] regiment of foot-guards, the emoluments of which did not then amount to four shillings per day; which daily pay would not have paid my tailor his charges of one single button and the button-hole to my gala suit ³. I was of opinion that I could not pay my sovereign greater respect than by appearing elegantly and expensively dressed at the birth-day; and I trust his Majesty thought well of it. As silence gives consent, I am entitled to put a favourable construction on it; for, from the very moment I came into the guards as ensign, to the day I went to the American war, and to this hour, after having served my king and country faithfully for seven [p11] long years, I have never been honoured with one word from his Majesty's lips.

I never was fond of cards or dice, nor ever played for any considerable sum of money; at least, no further than the fashion of the times compelled me. I claim, however, no merit whatever for abstaining from play, as it afforded me no pleasure: if it had, I certainly should have gratified that passion, as I have done some others. But the turf I was passionately fond of, and indulged that pleasure to a very great extent. I once stood three thousand guineas on one race, Shark against Leviathan, and won it: my confederate, Mr. Robert Pigott, stood five thousand on the event. I was a considerable gainer by the turf, notwithstanding the enormous expence of keeping running-horses in those days; as every [p12] horse in training, at Newmarket, cost the owner between eighty and ninety pounds a-year, if not moved from that place; but if he travelled the country, it was computed, to clear himself, he must win three fifty-pound plates during the summer. To use the idea, but not the precise words, of Macheath, I can, with truth, say, the turf has done me justice: but the extravagance of the times, the delightful pleasures of that age, and the frailty of my own nature, were my ruin. I must have been more than man, or, more properly speaking, less than man, not to have indulged in the pleasures of the gay world, which I could not partake of without being at a very considerable expence; by far more than my income could afford. As my estate, together with a house furnished, which, with some acres of land, I let to the best of [p13] tenants, Mrs. Crewe, the grandmother to my worthy friend Colonel Crewe, the young man, I mean, who was wounded in the expedition to the Helder, for two hundred a-year, did not exceed eleven hundred pounds. This was all I was possessed of, excepting about three thousand pounds in cash as a younger child's fortune.

Speaking of Captain Macheath, it reminds me of a story which has been told in various shapes, respecting an interview I once had in Newgate, with a very honourable and brave fellow, Hawkes, the flying highwayman. Honourable and brave did I say? -- Yes; I repeat it; nay more, he was humane and charitable: and the following circumstances will, in the mind of every liberal individual, prove him to have been so. He had a famous mare, which he had oftentimes [p14] rode very long distances in a short space of time. I had oftentimes seen him at Newmarket, where he attended the races as a bettor. In those days I was so fond of riding my own hacknies on the road in a journey, that whenever I went any distance, I used to send my servant in my chaise with my clothes, and relay my own hacknies. I had four or five of the speediest and safest that I believe the country could produce. Accordingly, when Hawkes was committed to Newgate, I thought his mare would have been a great acquisition. Returning from Newmarket to London, after a very wet and dirty ride, very much in dishabille, being in dirty boots, surtout coat and round hat, which no gentleman in those days wore in London even in boots: In short, just as I was when I dismounted from my horse, I went to Newgate, and desired to see Mr. Hawkes, [p15] but without telling the turnkey who I was. The turnkey called him out to the tap-room, and I heard him tell him that an acquaintance wanted to speak to him. After calling for a bottle of wine and condoling with him on his situation, I entered on my business with him, telling him I knew he had a famous mare, and that I wished much to buy her. "The mare, says he, "is a good mare still, though she has done a good deal of work; and, moreover, is as fast a one as I ever crossed." "Pray, Mr. Hawkes, what is the greatest distance, in point of expedition, you ever rode her?" "Why, Sir, the longest ground, in a short time, that she ever carried me, was one evening, when, after doing a little business near Salt Hill, I rode her within the hour to London." "She must be very speedy, indeed," I replied; and no more was said [p16] about the mare's performances. I then made him a present of two or three guineas, and told him, that as the mare was to be sold for the benefit of the captors, I hoped he would not deceive me, but tell me frankly whether he would recommend me to buy her or not. "Sir," answered he, "it is not likely that a man so near his latter end as I am, (for there is hardly any chance of my escaping,) should deceive any one; therefore, Sir, pray tell me, for what purpose did you want her? I replied, For the road, and only for the road. "Then, Sir, I will fairly tell you that I recommend you not to purchase her, for I do not think she will suit you; as it was with the greatest difficulty I could ever get her up to a carriage.

This brave and charitable fellow one day riding near Uxbridge, well dressed [p17] and well mounted, met an industrious labourer, who stopped him, and said, "Gentleman, don't ride that way, as there are two foot-pads gone up that lane who have just robbed me." "What have you lost," says Hawkes. "Ten or twelve shillings," replied the man; "all I have earned by hard labour to support a wife and family during a week." "Take this pistol, then, in your hand," said Hawkes, "and get up behind me, and shew me the man who robbed you." The countryman accordingly sprang up behind him, and they soon overtook the foot-pads: they then dismounted, and Hawkes, after asking them if they were not ashamed to rob a pour labourer, knocked one down, whilst the countryman seized the other: he took every thing from them, beat them soundly, and gave the spoils to the countryman. He then mounted his horse, and [p18] rode off, telling the grateful and astonished rustic to remember the flying highwayman.

This singular character lived, some years before he was suspected of highway robbery, near Uxbridge, and was so charitable to the poor people around him, that they most sincerely lamented his condemnation and exit.

I shall beg leave to mention a very singular and gallant action of this extraordinary man. After robbing three or four stage-coaches, before break of day, in the neighbourhood of London, he stopped one in which was a lieutenant of a man-of-war. The lieutenant presented a long horse-pistol at Hawkes, and told him to stand off, or that he would shoot him. Hawkes said he was determined to [p19] rob the coach. The lieutenant replied, I have got but a small sum of money, which I do not know how to replace; and I am resolved that you shall not have it." "Then,["] said Hawkes, "get out of the coach; I don't want to take a small pittance from a poor officer, who has earned it hardly in his country's service: but mind you, Sir, I will most assuredly rob this coach, and I shall advance immediately: therefore, be sure you take good aim, so as to be certain of killing me; for, on my honour, I shall not fire till my pistol touches your head." The lieutenant accordingly got out of the coach, and Hawkes robbed the other passengers; when he rode off, and wished the lieutenant a good morning. This brave man was not like the ruffians of the present age, who fire into carriages before they know whether the [p20] persons in it are armed or not, or intend to make any resistance. Let even a woman be in the carriage, they pay no distinction to the delicacy of the female sex. The inhuman murder of that amiable young man, Mr. Mellish, strikes me with horror, when I reflect that an Englishman could be guilty of so cowardly an action. When they stopped him, and told him to throw his arms out of the window, he assured them that he had no arms; that he was returning from hunting, and that they might with safety advance and take his money. But after robbing him, without the smallest resistance on his part, the inhuman monsters fired into the chaise and killed him. One would hardly think, that, in a brave nation, such a cowardly miscreant could be found. I do not judge of the country at large from the instance of one ruffian, but I am inclined [p21] to think, from many circumstances I could mention, that we are degenerating very fast.

Now I shall speak to the honour and honesty of this brave fellow, Hawkes. In fact, I took a particular liking to this man, made myself known to him, and used to go see him at least three times a-week, until he was executed. I assured him, that there was nothing in my power that I would not do to save his life; and actually entered into a plan with him for his safety, requesting he would point out any means by which he might be preserved. "There is nothing but money, Sir," said he, "can save me; but that I have not; and even I had it, I fear it is now too late; for the person I robbed is bound over to prosecute me at the ensuing sessions. I immediately put [p22] a fifty-pound note in his hand, asking him if that was sufficient for the purpose? He threw himself on his knees, and blessed me a hundred times: -- "Oh, dear Sir, had I known you when first confined, and before I was committed to take my trial, you could have saved my life; however, I will try what can be done, and be assured, Sir, I will not make an improper or dishonest use of your money. A few days afterwards, sitting at breakfast, my servant told me that a woman wanted to speak to me: I ordered her to be shewn up; and who should this be but the wife of Hawkes, who came with her husband's best gratitude and respects to me, and returned me the fifty-pound note, informing me that he had tried every means to no purpose, and that -- die he must.

[p23] Let those experienced gamesters who have made a young man of fortune drunk purposely to win his money, who have cogged a die, and packed the cards, to the utter ruin not only of the suffering individual, but to the beggary of his family, who stalk this town in all the pride of spoliating infamy; let them, I say, examine their own consciences, if they have any, and decide who merits the gallows most -- they or Hawkes?

I went constantly to see this brave fellow in Newgate, till the day of his execution; when I placed myself on horseback close to the tail of the cart. Just before he was turned off, prayers being ended, he fixed his eyes on me, smiled, nodded his head to me, and then looking up to heaven, I am confident from the signs he made to me that he prayed to [p24] God, before whom he was shortly to appear, to bless me for my intended kindness; then, not waiting for the driving on of the cart, with a manly exertion, he sprang out of it, which launched him sooner into eternity! -- Reader, what thinkest thou of this highwayman? I will tell my opinion of him: I would rather have had the prayers of this man, than of all the church-going hypocrites of the age, or any sanctified methodist who reads prayers in his own family twice a day⁴.

There are two interesting stories of highwaymen, which I shall venture to relate. [p25] A great many years ago, there lived in Ireland, an officer, a Colonel Coningham, who, for what reason I know not, had been outlawed, and a reward of two thousand pounds offered by Government to any person who would bring him a prisoner to Dublin: he was so beloved in his own country, that no soul would lay hands on him, and the officers of Justice knew him to be so determined and truly brave, that it would cost two or three of them their lives to take him. After a considerable time living in this disagreeable manner, he resolved to go to Dublin, surrender himself, and take his trial. Not many miles from Dublin, he was stopped by a highwayman, a very young man, and of genteel appearance; when Col. Coningham asked him if he knew who it was he had stopped? and on the young man answering in the negative, [p26] "Then," replied the Colonel, "I will tell you; I am the very Col. Coningham for whose person a reward of two thousand pounds is offered, and whom the officers of justice know never will be taken alive by force; you cannot, therefore, think that a single highwayman can intimidate me: you have a very young appearance, and cannot long have made this business a practice: tell me, therefore, your situation, and if you are in real want, I will relieve you; but rob me you shall not." The young man replied, "I solemnly declare, Sir, that I never was guilty of such an action before; for I am really a gentleman of good family, but at this time in the most abject distress." The Colonel, struck with compassion and pity, from seeing a man of his condition driven to such a fatal remedy for his wants, said to him, "Young man, dismount; give your horse to my postilion, [p27] and come into the chaise; then disarm me, tie my hands fast, and, having surrendered me at the castle, claim the two thousand pounds reward offered to any one who shall apprehend me." The Colonel and the young man accordingly journeyed on to Dublin, when he surrendered the Colonel safe into custody, and received the whole of the reward. Thus the gallant Coningham acted decidedly, though as determined a man as ever stepped into leathern shoe, because he saw a gentleman in distress. A gentleman in these days, if he is not in Parliament, provided he surrenders to the King's Bench for various debts, amounting in all to two or ten thousand pounds; if he gives up all his property, and pays 1990l. or 9990l. may be confined for the remaining ten pounds all his life by an obdurate creditor; when a vendor of cabbages may, by obtaining a certificate of [p28] bankruptcy, never be imprisoned, and set up in the same trade again.

My last history of highwaymen is that of the famous Morgan, whose name stands with distinguished fame on the Bow-street Journals.

Morgan had dogged a Colonel Manley out of town, on purpose to rob him, knowing that at all times he was used to carry a considerable sum of money about his person, especially on his journey to Bath, where he was accustomed to play very deep. Colonel Manley was well known to be a man of great personal courage, and, happening to leave town very late, stopped to dine at one of the inns in Hounslow. Morgan, growing impatient, wrote the Colonel a letter, and sent it by a returned chaise to the house [p29] where he dined, informing him of his name and profession, with the assurance that he was without any accomplice, and waiting on the heath to rob him; the Colonel, taking no notice of this to the landlord, or any one else, as a brave man accepted the challenge. He had but one brace of pistols with him, which he discharged at Morgan without effect; when Morgan, putting his pistol in his pocket, advanced to the chaise, and said, "Colonel, besides the gold you have in your purse, I know you have five hundred pounds in banknotes in your pocket-book, as I can tell you at what banker's you received that sum this morning: I will act generously and liberally by you; therefore, without demur, give me your pocket-book." Col. Manley, astonished both at the gallantry and generous conduct of the highwayman, gave him his pocket-book. Morgan [p30] returned him 250l. and wished him a good evening. We do not in general meet with such civil highwaymen; especially in these days, I am sorry to say, that they seem to be bent as much on murder, as to relieve their wants. I myself did not experience, a few years past, any marks of civilities from one of these gentlemen, who stopped my chaise near Gunesbury-lane; for he fired directly in my face, and his pistol was not three feet from my head: but I do not complain; for I confess I was not over ceremonious with him, as luckily I fired first and hit him, which I have reason to suppose rather deranged him, and prevented his taking any effectual aim at me.

It would have been more regular in me not to have omitted something relative to the genealogy of my parents, in the early [p31] part of my narrative; but I never claimed any merit to myself for regularity, in any sense of the word. I therefore trust the generous reader will accept it as well in this page as in any former one.

I am informed, that some relations of our family have declared, that our family were formerly possessors of a very ancient domain and mansion-house in the county of Middlesex, called Bruce Castle, and that from thence we first sprung. All I can say is, that I never heard my father or mother speak of such a place; and I have heard them relate many singular and interesting anecdotes of my ancestors. One in particular I remember well, that the very gentleman, I forget his name, who sold the estate at Dryffield in Gloucestershire, which is now in the possession of our family, to my grandfather [p32] came to the very door of that house, formerly his own, and asked alms. All I know of the genealogy of my ancestors, (of which I am not in the smallest degree vain, it being a matter of total indifference to me what they were, and from whom and what they sprung,) I will now relate, and I believe it will be found tolerably correct.

My grandfather was Sir George Hanger, Bart. How he acquired the title I know not. I never heard my father say that his father inherited the title; or who my grandfather's father was, or of what profession or of what calling; which, indeed, is perfectly indifferent to me, and not to the present question. My grandfather and grandmother, for ought I know, and, what is more, for ought I care, might have been as obscure in their origin, as the parents [p33] of the beautiful Sally, born in our alley, as the song relates; and have followed the same means for their livelihood⁵. But to the point. Sir George Hanger had five or six sons, I forget which, and three daughters: John the eldest of course remained at home, as the young squire always does; the others were dispersed all over the world: one was a Russian merchant; another a Turkey merchant, and settled at Smyrna; and the fourth was in the merchant's house in the city. My father, the youngest, went to India; and, with more grief than it is possible for me to express, I have often heard him declare, that his father gave him no more than five hundred pounds to begin [p34] the world with, as I thought it savoured much of teaching me prudence and economy.

Now to the female part of our family. One of my aunts was married to a gentleman, by name Lecuse; I may not be correct in spelling his name, but so it was pronounced. Another, who left me my estate in Berkshire, of whom I shall speak in another part of this book, was married to Hare, Lord Coleraine, an Irish nobleman, of great property both in Ireland and in this country. The chief part of his estates in England was in Hertfordshire. Now, generous reader, I have endeavoured to give as faithful and true an account of my family as I am enabled to do, but I cannot trace them further than to my grandfather; and whether those who went before them sold cabbage nets [p35] and made laces long, and cried their honest labour about the streets, is a matter of perfect indifference to me.

My father, after an absence of ten years, returned to England for the benefit of his health; and I have heard him often say, that he was not then worth more than twenty-five thousand pounds. Shortly after his arrival, one of his brothers died and left him his property, which was sufficient to enable him to live in this country, and put an end to his design of returning to India. However, to bring the good fortune of my father to a speedy conclusion; his four brothers died, all without issue, in a very few years after his arrival, and bequeathed him all their wealth to a very considerable amount. His two married sisters died without issue, and both left him something; the one, Lady Coleraine, as I [p36] have observed before, bequeathed to me my estate in Berkshire. My aunt Jane, who resided at Bath, died in virgin purity, never having been married, and left all she possessed to my father. Thus did Fortune turn her wheel in my favour, who had but five hundred pounds to begin the world with, that she brought him, by the death and good will of his relations, to great affluence and riches; a most fortunate event for his three sons⁶, who were curiously endowed by nature to spend it.

Speaking of my family, it may be as well to mention here as in any other part of this Work, by what means my [p37] father was made Lord Coleraine in the kingdom of Ireland.

His sister, Miss Anne Hanger, as I have already observed, was married to Hare, Lord Coleraine. But my father was not in the most distant degree related to him, except by marriage. Hare, Lord Coleraine, however, dying without issue, or heir to the title; my father, Gabriel Hanger, claimed it, and with just as much right as the clerk or sexton of the parish. After the same manner as Jupiter overcame the beautiful Danae, did he prove an undoubted right to the title, and was created a peer of Ireland. A lady of high rank, and of no inconsiderable influence in the days of that excellent king, George the Second, is supposed to have been benefited very [p38] considerably by one of these glistening showers.

If a nobleman could bequeath his virtues, his abilities, and courage to his posterity, the same as he can will his lands and property, then a noble descent would be very valuable. By intermarrying with the children of Howe, Duncan, St. Vincent, and Nelson, we might insure a race of heroes to the State: but, alas! how many great men, who died in the last century, would be shocked if they could but look out of the grave and view those to whom their titles are descended. As for the reversionary chance that, in the wheel of fortune, I may have to the title in our family, I am willing to dispose of it at a very cheap rate to any vain man who seeks for empty honours; for, if titles are [p39] not bestowed as a reward of merit, they are of no value in my estimation. The King can give titles, but he cannot bestow virtue, abilities, or courage.

I had not been above two years in England when I was engaged in a most singular adventure, -- the very thought of which, to this moment, fills me with alarm. It was very much the fashion in those days to walk on Sunday evenings, during the summer, in Kensington-gardens. They were much crowded, and frequented by well-dressed persons of all ranks and descriptions. A particular friend of mine came to me in the morning, and desired that I would be in the garden that evening, as he had something particular to mention to me, which he would impart when we met. I was there to my appointment, and joined him on the promenade. [p40] He then told me, his reason for asking me to accompany him was that he was anxious to have some conversation with a lady who would be in company with a female friend, whose attention to what might pass between them he wished me to divert by my attention to her. We did not join them till near dusk, when, drawing off from the public walk, we passed to that part of the garden near to the palace, where formerly, before the gardens were cleared of the underwood, many of the walks were bordered with very thick and high yew-hedges, which, from the trees and shrubbery behind them, were rendered impervious to the view. It was almost dark, the night being much overcast. We were sitting on one of the garden-seats, when, at some distance, we saw a man coming down the gravel-walk. The women proposed getting up, and retiring [p41] by one of the small passages between the yew-hedges into the shrubbery, lest the person approaching us might know them. It was now half past nine at night; and my friend and the two ladies retired into the shrubbery. I stood before the opening of the yew-hedge, as this man came opposite to me on the gravel-walk; and when he was about six or seven paces from me, he made a dead halt, and faced about towards me. I spoke not a word for at least two or three minutes, while he kept walking a few paces backwards and forwards viewing me, and seeming as if he wished to see what was behind me. At length, quitting the centre of the gravel-walk, he advanced two or three paces nearer to me. It was then high time for me to decide what I should do. But, before I proceed, it is necessary to mention, [p42] that very imprudently I had put my glove in my mouth to disguise my voice; for, had I spoke to him in my natural tone, on perceiving that I could not be the person he sought after, he might have gone away. On his advancing, I again said, "Sir, you cannot pass this way." Upon which he immediately put his hand to his sword: Not did I delay to draw mine, when I retired within the narrow passage of the hedge, to make sure, if he was determined to force an entry, that I should have the advantage of parrying any thrust from him, when he could not prevent my acting against him. He immediately advanced close to the hedge, with his sword half through it; at the same time grumbling inwardly, and absolutely snorting and blowing with anger. I could have run him through the body, with the greatest facility, in the disadvantageous [p43] situation in which he was; but, instead of acting, I said, "For God's sake, Sir, do not advance! you cannot want any thing of me; it is impossible that I should be the person you are looking for: but I swear, if you advance one step further, I will kill you!" At this moment my friend came up on one side of me, and, in a low voice, said, "My dear George, for God's sake don't kill him!" in those days I was in great habits of fencing, having a person to attend me three times a-week to perfect me in that science. Being very strong in the arm and wrist, I was ever prepossessed with an idea, that if I could, unobserved, change from the one side of my adversary's blade to the other, and beat on it, I should be certain of hitting the very best fencer. This was a favourite coup of mine; and I now put it in practice [p44] with such velocity, force, and success, that if it had not been for the hedge into which I drove his sword, and in which it was for a moment entangled, I believe sincerely that I should have forced the sword out of his hand. At the instant I beat upon his blade, I made a gentle bott at him, slightly opposing my sword to his body, and just pricked him, at which he started back a couple of paces. I never advanced, but kept my position within the hedge, knowing that, from the advantage of it, I could do any thing with him I chose; and, had he advanced again, I was resolved not to attempt to run him through the body, but to gather his blade, and attempt to disarm him. Notwithstanding my having made him lightly feel the point of my sword, he never spoke one work, but stood snorting and puffing with rage. I then said, "Sir, for God's [p45] sake, go away! I do not wish to hurt you: you must be conscious that I could have run you through the body if I had been so disposed: let me, therefore, entreat you to go away. I know you not; nor can you want any thing of me, or of any person with me;" for really and truly I did not know him; nor did I ever after, with any degree of certainty; yet, from his figure, size, and walk, I had my suspicions who he was, as well as from his being very shy of me when I attempted some time afterwards to be acquainted with him. The story was buzzed about the town that I had been engaged in a rencontre in the dark with an unknown person in Kensington-gardens, to protect two ladies and a gentleman from being discovered by him. Thus the story was told, and no person ever was acquainted with any further particulars of this affair; which may [p46] be thought singular, as two women were parties to the transaction⁷. They were certainly sworn to secrecy for their own interest: my friend never entrusted it to any person; and I never have, nor ever will, so help me God! Nor should I ever have written this, were not my friend and one of the ladies in their graves. What is most singular, the women had discretion and art sufficient to put this story about as if they themselves had never been concerned in it; and it was the most sensible method they could adopt. As I could not be suspected of any intimacy [p47] with them; for I never had spoke twice in my life to either before that night, nor very seldom after: they, of course, never mentioned my friend's name, and made it a matter of wonder who he could be. -- To return to my antagonist on the gravel-walk: -- At my solicitations and entreaties he put up his sword, and walked back the same way he came. I watched him out of sight; but, it may be well credited, I did not follow him. Judge, reader, what pleasure I must have felt when he was gone! Reflect only on my horrid situation! Had I killed this man, one half at least of the censorious world would have believed that my friend and me had assassinated him. If he had killed me, the consequences must have been very disagreeable to all parties: the women and my friend, in all events, must have come forward. During [p48] the conflict, which lasted a considerable time, I dare say about five minutes, a thousand horrors and fears rushed into my mind, and unstrung my soul. As to the matter of a duel, had it been in daylight, with a second, I should not have thought more than others on such an occasion, having fought three duels before I was twenty years old; since which time, I assure the reader, that I have been as peaceably inclined as my neighbours, and in no way whatever disposed to quarrels: -- indeed I am not of a quarrelsome temper. I solemnly declare I was so dismayed, that, if it had not been for discovering the women, and had I been waiting there alone expecting to meet some kind fair one, I should have taken to my heels and run away as fast as my legs would have carried me. I have certainly been in some disagreeable situations in life [p49] since that period, but never, in my days, have I been so alarmed: it is not possible for me to describe what I suffered. -- To end this narrative: My carriage was waiting at the palace-gate, and we walked down to the gardener's house, and prevailed on him to let us out, for it was then past ten. We put the women into the carriage, who were set down in London, not at their own house, as may be well imagined; and my friend and I walked home, rejoicing on having escaped so well out of so ticklish a situation.

Having already mentioned the extravagance and excesses of the nobility and private gentlemen at the west end of the town, it will be but fair, in return, to take a view of the honest merchant and citizen at the east end. The first question he asks his friend, when he rises in [p50] the morning, is, "How are stocks?" -- "Very flat, indeed." -- "How is omnium?" -- "Much the same as yesterday." -- "My dear friend, Is there no hopes of sugars rising? I bought up a great quantity in the market, and have them now on hand." -- "None whatever: there has been no hurricane in the West Indies this season, and the crops were abundant." -- "That, my friend, is very unfortunate: and, above all, there is no hopes now of the enemy capturing the homeward-bound West-India fleet, from the great superiority we have at sea: formerly, and in other wars, we speculators had some chance, even when the market was glutted with sugars, or any other article of trade, to sell them to some advantage, or at least not lose by them, when the produce lay but in few hands: however, I am determined to stand my chance, for [p51] I won't sell at the present indifferent price; and, as I bought them two per cent. cheaper than they now are, I can't be a great loser." -- "Pray, my friend, have you heard how provisions are; are they likely to be cheaper?" -- "I am afraid not, for bread will rise two assizes next Thursday; and meat, cheese, and bacon are extremely dear also." -- "Why, then, on Thursday bread will be eighteen pence the quartern loaf. My God! how can the poor live if the farmers and cornfactors are permitted to hoard up the grain⁸?" There being no demand for rum or sugars, and stocks being very flat, nothing is to be done that day in the Alley: he, therefore, goes to the coffeehouse to hear the news; when, taking up a [p52] paper he reads -- Yesterday, Lord A---- lost seven thousand pounds at Hazard, at Miles's Club, St. James's Street; and Mr. B. five thousand pounds, the same night, at Brooks's. Turning to an acquaintance near him, he exclaims, "Good God! Sir, how shocking is the passion that some men have for play! The extravagance, vice, and profligacy of the men of fashion of the present age, and beyond all belief, not only distressing themselves by play, but reducing their wives and families to beggary! It is horrid indeed, Sir!" -- "and will not bear reflection," replies his neighbour. Now this very man, not a fortnight before, at the last settling day, gained ten thousand pounds by speculating in the Alley. But this is not all the honest citizen does: if he did no worse than speculate with his own money, he would be the only sufferer, and surely might readily [p53] be forgiven, and even pitied if unfortunate. But, what monsters in wickedness have we witnessed amongst those honest citizens, by involving whole families of industrious people, who have entrusted them with their little all, the savings of many years' labour, in their own ruin! then, not daring to live, they seek the refuge that is to be found in suicide.

One monster in atrocity, superlatively nefarious, exceeding by far all other culprits, and who has comprehended a far greater number of individuals in his ruin than we have before heard of: besides the numbers who have been very large sufferers, one lady, by his baseness and treachery, lost thirty thousand pounds; and a young lady, an heiress, whose sole property was in his possession, lost her all to the [p54] amount of sixty thousand pounds; yet this miscreant lies buried, I doubt not, with a very flaming inscription on his tomb-stone, setting forth every virtue which he did not possess. It was juster by far that the following epitaph should adorn his sepulchre:

Hic jacet ------- *******,
Alieni appetens alienique profusus;
Who robbed the Hangman of his Fees,
And by Suicide deprived the Laws of a just Revenge.

Had this wretch, indeed, robbed no one but the hangman, it had been well; but, by a death too sudden, he has added to his other robberies that of robbing the world of its right to hold him up to public infamy, and to make him a terrible example.

Enough of such monsters! -- Let us now [p55] view the real honest money-making censorious citizen of London, (For he also can descant at large on the vices and excesses of the age,) and let us inquire of what real benefit or use he is of to society at large: he is but little better than the Dutch merchant, whose soul is his till, and looks up to God only through the crevice by which the money passes into it: he walks in no temple but his counting house, and has no faith but in his banker, and his heart strings and his purse strings are synonymous terms. In the morning he goes to the Exchange, is occupied all the forenoon, and best part of the day, in making money; goes home to dinner, gormandises at table and gets drunk after; goes to bed, rises the next morning to repeat his daily labours; gets drunk again, is cuckolded, and dies. A fortnight after his burial, his son makes [p56] water on his grave; his favourite dog follows the young master's example; and this hopeful youth, for whom he has been toiling for many years, takes as much pains to spend the fortune, as his father did to acquire it.

A good merchant is a good man; and a good man is a good merchant: it is also said, that a good mason is a good man, and that a good man also is a good mason. I do not dispute it; but it reminds me of sharpers tossing up for money with fools, and crying, Heads I win, Tails you lose.

I now return to a more interesting object; need I inform my readers that I mean myself?

After a few years enjoyment of every pleasure and satisfaction in life, which [p57] that age of pleasure, extravagance, and elegance, was calculated to afford, a sudden and unforeseen event took place, the result of which I have ever had cause to repent from that early house to the present moment. I do not wish to rip up old grievances, especially as one of the parties who profited at my expence is dead, and the other is a near friend. It is sufficient to say, that I conceived myself most unjustly treated relative to a promotion that took place in the first regiment of foot guards, in which corps I had then the honour of being an ensign. Great parliamentary interest was the cause of it, to the entire destruction of my promotion in a service to which I was most devoutly attached; and of which I resolved to experience the substance, not the disgraceful empty shadow of parading about the streets of London, with the outward [p58] flimsy insignia of a soldier, a cockade and red coat. This I evinced by voluntarily going into the Hessian service to America very shortly after. Had I remained in the first regiment of guards, I should at this moment have had the honour of commanding that regiment for above a twelvemonth; which the rotation of names here mentioned will plainly prove to my old friends, the brigade of guards; they were as follow: D'Oyley, Duff, Strickland, Fanshaw, Edmonstone, Hanger. My old acquaintance General D'Oyley has long been out of the regiment; soon after the Helder expedition. Duff, before him, had a regiment. Strickland quitted the regiment and retired as a private gentleman, and is since dead. Fanshaw sold out, and went into the Russian service, in which, a very few years ago, he was still living. Edmonstone [p59] died aid-de-camp to General Rictarell, the commander in chief of the German troops under General Burgoyne in Canada. Next came a youth, not much favoured by fortune or by fame, your humble servant, George Hanger. My gallant and old friend, George Ludlow, (General Ludlow,) who now commands the first regiment of guards, was not above half-way up the ensigns when I quitted the regiment, with four captains junior to me. This statement will prove to those who are conversant with the promotion of the army, in what a high situation I should have stood in point of rank and command, had I remained in the guards. I quitted the guards at the period when the American war commenced, in which fate destined me to serve. With a heart-felt satisfaction I reflect that I had the sense of my regiment [p60] with me, who wished me to remain with them, and felt the injury I had sustained: and with so favourable an eye did that distinguished officer and true friend to a soldier, General Hervey, view my case, as to tell me, that if I would draw up a memorial, he would present it to the King. All my friends advised me to remain in the regiment; and my worthy friend, that enlightened commander, Sir William Draper, in particular advised me so to do. I never shall forget his words: -- "You are used very ill, but you cannot contend against power: put up with it, and use it at some future period as a plea to be served." But I was too young to take advice, and too haughty and high in blood tamely to brook an injury without resenting it, or shewing all the indignation I felt on the occasion. Deaf to all advice, and [p61] blind to my own interest, vexed, heated, and agitated with an honest consciousness of the wrongs I had suffered, I resolved on quitting the guards, and of serving in the Hessian troops in America. I gave in my resignation, but never mentioned my intentions to any soul living, except to my worthy, old, and dear friend and protector, Lord Southampton, then General Fitzroy. I cannot pass over in silence the many favours and friendships I received from that accomplished and excellent person. I should be guilty of the basest ingratitude did I not acknowledge them. He was my kind friend and sage adviser through life: and with truth I can say, that whenever I followed his advice, I prospered; and, when I failed to consult him, I was always unsuccessful. I am vain, and not without reason, of the intimate [p62] footing on which I lived with this nobleman for many years; and, until the day of his death, I possessed both his friendship and confidence, which my old friend, George Fitzroy, the present Earl, well knows. He was then General Fitzroy, and had served in the seven-years' war in Germany, under the orders of Prince Ferdinand, during which time he had contracted a great intimacy with General Schliefen, who then was minister to his Serene Highness the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel. His Highness was graciously pleased, from the application of General Schliefen, to appoint me a captain in the Hessian Jager corps. At my particular request, General Fitzroy kept my application a profound secret; for I was determined not to continue with the British service; though, had my intentions been [p63] known, some persons, perhaps, might have had sufficient influence on me to have deterred me from my project.

In my way down to Andover in Hampshire, where I kept my hunters, I called on my old and intimate friend, Lord Spencer Hamilton, and imparted to him what I had done, in confidence of his secrecy. I kept this design of mine so profound a secret, that it was not in the least known or suspected, till one day, after hunting, while I was at dinner with my friend Lord Egmont, and some other gentlemen, at the Castle-inn, Marlborough, the waiter informed me that an express was arrived to me from the Hessian minister. After reading the contents, that he had received a dispatch from Hesse Cassel, in which his Serene Highness the Landgrave had appointed me a captain in [p64] his corps of Jagers, and had sent my commission to him, I threw the letter on the table for the company to peruse, which they did with the utmost astonishment. I set off for London the next day, and ordered all my horses to town to be sold at my old friend Tattersall's, of whose regard for me I shall have occasion to speak more fully in another part of this Work. By this time I had contracted a mortgage on my estate of thirteen thousand pounds, and had been for some time resolved to sell it, and take a general review of my affairs, with which I had been for a long time but little acquainted; constantly raising money from time to time as I wanted it. Preparatory to a sale, I had employed a person, with my steward, to survey the estate.

About this time, being in company with [p65] Mr. Wyatt the great land-surveyor, with whom I was on terms of the greatest intimacy, he said to me, "George Hanger, you have had your estate surveyed, and, as I am informed, intend to sell it: I have been in your neighbourhood lately, and know, I believe, rather more of your estate than you do yourself." To which I readily assented, or he must have known very little of it indeed. "Then," continued he, "as I have a regard for you, I request, if you have any faith in my knowledge of estates, that you will put it into my hands to dispose of it, -- but upon one condition, to which you must, before this company, pledge me your honour." -- I knew my man; and therefore, on my honour, I promised to assent to whatever he had to propose. -- "I have," continued he, "a very good estate of my own, and, besides, I am paid very liberally [p66] by several noblemen and gentlemen for the management of their estates, and do not want to make any money of you: you must, therefore, faithfully promise me, that you will never request my acceptance of one farthing for my trouble; my expences I will charge you, and nothing more, as my design and wish is to serve you as a friend." Such was the generous and noble manner in which my friend Wyatt acted by me. "Your estate," said he, "is very valuable; far more so than you imagine. I have been acquainted with all the particulars of it by a skilful man, a surveyor who lives near you, who advised me to buy it; but I have just bought an estate, or I would have purchased it: but that is out of the question, as I have no more money."

I thought myself inexpressibly fortunate [p67] to have met with a man of such known integrity, who came forward as a friend to serve me; and rejoiced in leaving my affairs, on my departure for America, in the hands of so honest and able a man: but, alas! cruel Fate, which has destined me to suffer misfortunes and misery in various shapes, had decreed it otherwise, by the sudden death of my friend a short time after I had left my native shores. This melancholy and unfortunate event proved my ruin: the particulars of which I shall relate in their proper place.

Mr. Wyatt passed several days with me and my steward in surveying the estate before my departure, when I gave him the fullest warrant of attorney that could be made by law, to sign, seal, sell, [p68] &c. &c. &c. and was happy in so doing. After Mr. Wyatt had completed the survey, and made his calculation on the estate, I asked him, if he had formed a sufficient judgment of it to tell me nearly what it was worth? He replied, "It is, honestly, worth twenty-four thousand pounds: and, I give you my honour, that if I had not lately bought an estate, I would myself give you that sum for it." I shall now for a time drop the subject of my estate; but I judged it necessary to mention the value at which he estimated it, on account of the sum for which it was sold some time afterwards.

I now returned to London, and was presented at Court, as a Hessian officer, by my friend Baron Kutzleben, the Hessian minister. This took place early in [p69] January, and I sailed the fifteenth day of the ensuing March from Portsmouth for America.

I should be guilty of ingratitude if I did not acknowledge the singular kindness which Lord North shewed me when I first resolved on quitting the British service. I had the honour of being as well acquainted with him as his high rank as minister of the country, and my inferior situation, could admit; for I was accustomed to meet him oftentimes in many of the first and gayest circles in London: for this able statesman, the best of private characters, the most pleasant, engaging, and amiable of mankind, did not bury himself in the inaccessible retreats of Downing-street; but, when affairs of state did not require his attention, relaxed himself in the fashionable [p70] assemblies, which he never failed to enliven by that incomparable flow of wit and good humour which he possessed.

It was absolutely necessary that I should, if not recommended by the minister, have his permission; or at least that he should acknowledge me as an officer and a gentleman. On my relating to this liberal and friendly nobleman how I had been treated, and merely requesting him to recommend me as a gentleman to the Hessian minister, he replied, "My dear Mr. Hanger, however displeased you may be, from the history you have related to me, surely you do not prefer any foreign service to your own; and there will be several new regiments raised, in which you, from your situation⁹, are entitled to serve, [p71] with an advanced rank." -- "My Lord, I understand your meaning, and return you my most sincere thanks for your kind intention; and I assure you, on my honour, I shall be as grateful for your intended goodness as if I accepted it: but I find myself so vexed, grieved, and injured, that nothing on earth can make me remain in the British army." He then said, "I am sorry you are so determined, Mr. Hanger; but if you will bring the Hessian minister to me any morning, I will give orders that you shall be admitted, and will say any thing you shall please to the Hessian minister." -- "My Lord, I most gratefully acknowledge my obligations to you: I wish you only to recommend me to his Serene Highness the Landgrave's protection." -- "It shall be done, Sir:" -- and of course it was, and [p72] in the most friendly and handsome manner.

Ye young officers, who may read these pages, take warning from what I have suffered by not accepting of this kind offer, and in being too hasty and violent in quitting the guards. It is of little avail for those who have no power to kick against the pricks: you will only wound your own heel.

It is necessary, before I step on shipboard for America, that I should mention, on account of the ruin which soon afterwards overtook me, that I went to every public place in London, for near three months, and dressed in my foreign uniform. My departure for the war was known to the whole town; and it may [p73] surely be believed that those to whom I was indebted would not have permitted me to depart without paying them, or finding them security: -- In short, I did give them the most satisfactory security; for I gave them my own, confirmed by that of Mr. Wyatt.

Continue...

Notes:

¹ Vide Governor Johnson's speech on the American war. [ back ]

² In some houses, at this age, the lady of the house is paid fifty guineas each night by the proprietor of the Faro-table. [ back ]

³Did I say a button and button-hole? The very stitching of a button-hole in those days cost me more: and the embroidered gold-clocks to my stockings, with which I never failed to appear at a ball or gala-day, cost me a much larger sum. [ back ]

⁴ A methodist who kept a huxter's shop, when a great variety of articles were sold, was heard to say to his shopman, "John, have you watered the rum?" "Yes." "Have you sanded the brown sugar?" "Yes." "Have you wetted the tobacco?" "Yes." "Then come in to prayers." [ back ]

⁵ "Her father he made cabbage nets,
"About the streets he cried them;
"Her mother she made laces long,
"For those that chose to buy them."
&c. &c. &c. [ back ]

⁶ "Three pretty boys did Gabriel get,
"The youngest George by name, Sir,
"A funny dog, not favoured much,
"By fortune or by fame, Sir. [ back ]

⁷ I know it is generally the opinion, that women cannot keep a secret, and are not to be trusted. A base woman, or a weak one, is not to be trusted; no more is a silly fellow, or an infamous scoundrel. But we undervalue women by far too much: if you possess the good opinion and friendship of a sensible and honest woman, you may trust her as safely as a man of integrity. [ back ]

⁸This is the public cant the honest merchant holds, at the same time he has 100,000l. of rum and sugars in his stores, purchased on speculation to sell again. [ back ]

⁹ At this time I had the rank of Captain. [ back ]