1812.
The Regent's doings -- The Royal Sprain -- Colonel McMahon --
Luddite and Factory Riots -- Scarcity of Bullion -- Murder of
Mr. Perceval.
Judging by the barometer of public opinion, the satirical prints,
the topic of conversation in the commencement of this year, was
the Prince Regent. Occupying the exalted position that he did, he
naturally was the observed of all, and his foibles and peccadilloes
were made the laughing-stock, or were censured of all. And the
Caricaturists did not spare him. Take this illustration as a sample;
it is called "1812 or REGENCY à la Mode," where we see our "fat
friend," as Brummell called him, having his stays laced, and, during
that operation, occupying himself by rouging his cheeks.
He would allow very little of his doings to be known by the public,
and the movements of Royalty, as we know it in the _Court Circular_,
were recorded in the baldest manner possible, except on one occasion,
when the Regent sprained his ancle, and there was a very long and
elaborate report thereon.
_Morning Chronicle_, Saturday, November 16, 1811:--"THE PRINCE
REGENT.--His Royal Highness, we are concerned to state, was not
well enough to come to town yesterday. At the Party given by the
Duchess of York at Oatlands, on Wednesday evening, the Duchess made
arrangements for a Ball. The Prince Regent agreed to lead off the
dance with his daughter, the Princess Charlotte, for his partner.
Whilst his Royal Highness was leading the Princess briskly along, his
right foot came in contact with the leg of a chair or sofa, which
gave his leg a twist, and sprained his ancle. His Royal Highness took
but little notice of it that night, but in the morning he found it
worse than he expected, &c., &c."
Whatever was the matter with him, he did not leave Oatlands till the
9th of December, or nearly a month after the Ball. Nobody believed in
the royal sprain, but the story that did gain credence, and was made
the most of by the Caricaturist and Satirist, was that the Regent,
at that Ball, grossly insulted Lady Yarmouth, for which he was most
heartily, and soundly, thrashed by her husband, Lord Yarmouth, and
hence the royal indisposition. Walcot, as "Peter Pindar, Esqre,"
wrote one of his most scathing odes, and that is saying something,
entitled "The R----L SPRAIN, or A KICK from YAR----H to WA----S,
being the particulars of an expedition to OAT----DS, and the SPRAINED
ANCLE."
There were several Caricatures, all with the same tendency. One was
"A Kick from Yarmouth to Wales, December, 1811," which shows Lord
Yarmouth holding the Regent by his coat collar and vigorously kicking
him behind, the Regent yelling and trying to get away, Lady Yarmouth
sitting on a sofa looking on. There is attached to this, a poetical
effusion of fourteen verses, to be sung to the tune of "The Love-sick
Frog." The first verse runs thus:
"A Prince he would a raking go.
Heigh ho! said Rowly.
Whether his people would have him or no;
With a rowly-powly, gammon and spinach,
Heigh ho! said Anthony Rowly."
Then there was "The Royal Milling Match," published December, 1811,
in which is depicted Lord Yarmouth, who, by a paper sticking out
of his coat pocket, was "Late a pupil of the Champion of England,"
is "fibbing merrily" on the royal countenance; at the same time
exclaiming, "There is plenty of fair game, but no poaching on my
Manor. My action is quick, and _put in_ strait forward--so!" The
Regent calls out, "Help, help, I have made a _false step_, and
sprained my Ancle." A servant coming in, says to Lord Yarmouth,
"Lord, Sir, don't be so harsh, you'll sprain the gentleman's _ancle_.
By goles, this is what they call Milling indeed!" Lady Yarmouth views
the scene from behind a screen.
The most amusing one I have seen, is given in the accompanying
illustration, which is by Geo. Cruikshank, published January, 1812.
It is called "PRINCELY AGILITY, or the SPRAINED ANCLE." The doctor
at the foot of the bed (probably meant for Halford) is fomenting the
foot, which seems its normal size, and says to the attendant, "Take
that _waistcoat_ away, or we shall make the town talk." The Princess
Charlotte is examining the foot, and exclaims, "Bless me, how it's
swelled!" Lady Jersey, who is administering to the invalid prince, is
inattentive to her duties; while the Regent, with "two lovely black
eyes," is calling to Colonel McMahon, "Oh! my Ancle, Oh!--bring me
my Wig--Oh! my Ancle! Take care of my Whiskers, Mac! Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh,
o--o--o--oh, o!" Sir John Douglas is feeling his pulse, saying, "Out
a way, Mon, you are always exposing yourself." John Bull is coming in
at the door, but is pushed back by Adams, with "Indeed, Bull, 'tis
only a sprained ancle." But John Bull says, "John Bull is not to be
fobbed off so easily, Master Lawyer."
[Illustration: Princely Agility; or, the Sprained Ancle.
_G. Cruikshank._
(_Published, January, 1812, by J. Johnston._)]
George Cruikshank was not very particular as to his likenesses, as we
may see by his ideal Colonel McMahon, who was a servant worthy of his
master, to whom he was most useful.
Walcot "Pindarised" him in an Ode, "Mac the First," in which he makes
him say:
"Once a boy, in ragged dress,
Who would little _Mac_ caress?
When in the streets, starv'd and sad,
I was a _common errand lad_."
But, be his origin whatever it might have been, he was a tool well
fitted for the use of his august master, who, it must be owned,
endeavoured to repay him; but, also, at the public expense. In
1811 General Fox died, and at his death, the office of Paymaster
of the Widows' Pensions became vacant. It was a perfect sinecure,
the duties being done by others, and the salary attached to the
office was over £2,000 per annum. The Commissioners of 1783, and of
1808, both reported and recommended the abolition of Paymaster and
Deputy-Paymaster of Widows' Pensions, as being unnecessary, the one
having very little to do, the other, nothing at all. The office of
Paymaster had, in particular, been recommended to be done away with,
on the demise of General Fox: but it was given to Colonel McMahon.
On January 9, 1812, on a Motion for Supply, Mr. Creevey spoke
decidedly against this appointment, and moved as an Amendment, "That
the House would, to-morrow se'nnight, resolve itself into a Committee
of Supply, in order to give an opportunity, in the interim, for the
consideration which he had suggested," namely, that they would take
into their earliest consideration, the various offices of emolument
recently granted by the Crown to several of their members. This
amendment was lost.
On the 22nd of February, the question of the Army Estimates being
on, Mr. Bankes moved as an Amendment, "That the amount of the sum
expected to be paid to the Paymaster of Widows' Pensions, being 12d.
in the pound on the said Pensions (£2,790 1s.) be deducted from the
said sum." This amendment was lost by a majority of sixteen.
But on the next night Mr. Bankes brought the matter up again, and
moved the virtual abolition of the office by omitting the sum
necessary to pay it--and this was carried by a majority of three.
[Illustration: The Privy Purse and Political Beggars.
(_Published April 13, 1812, by William Holland._)]
There was consternation among the Regent's party at the temerity
of the House in thus thwarting the Royal wishes, and, of course,
the recalcitrant Commons must be taught a lesson, so McMahon was
appointed Keeper of the Privy Purse, and Private Secretary to the
Prince Regent; and, in the caricature of "The PRIVY PURSE and
POLITICAL BEGGARS" we find McMahon installed in his new position.
_Sheridan_ says, "Dear, good, worthy Countryman, thou Pine Apple
of Erin! consider I was burnt out,[9] not a penny in my purse, my
credit very low--do--dear Mac, for the love of St. Patrick, give me a
handfull." _Buckingham_: "I have not above a Hundred Thousand a year,
these hard times. Pray remember the Poor!" _Temple_: "With my wife's
fortune, and my own, I have not above Forty Thousand a Year. Pray
remember the Poor!" _Grenville_: "I have not above Fifty Thousand
a Year, a slender pittance. Pray remember the Poor!" _Mac Mahon_
replies: "Paws Off! no Blarney will do with me! I'm up to all your
Gammon! and so is my dear Master. I'm cosy at last, in spite of all
your speeches and paragraphs, and you may all go to the Devil, your
Master!!!"
[Footnote 9: At Drury Lane Theatre, destroyed on the 24th
of February, 1809.]
And, doubtless, he thought he was cosy, but the Commons would not
stand the job, and on the 23rd of March his appointment was brought
before Parliament, and the Hon. J. W. Ward asked whether it was
a fact, and, if so, what salary was he to have? Mr. Perceval, as
Chancellor of the Exchequer, admitted the appointment, and pointed
out that Colonel Taylor had occupied the same position towards the
King for many years, and the same salary that was given to that
gentleman had been continued to Colonel McMahon. Mr. Whitbread
pointed out that Colonel Taylor's appointment was owing to the
infirmities of the King, and that previously, there had been no such
post.
On the 14th of April, Mr. C. W. Wynn, in the House of Commons, moved
for the Production of the Appointment of Colonel McMahon to the new
Office of Private Secretary to his Royal Highness the Prince Regent.
A very long discussion took place, and on a division, the motion was
negatived by a majority of seventy-six. But the Ministry felt that
the House was decidedly against them, and the appointment was not
persisted in--McMahon afterwards became a pensioner on the Privy
Purse.
During the whole of January the Luddites were very violent in, and
about Nottingham, doing an immense amount of mischief, in spite of
all the troops could do, and they were so well organized that very
few prisoners were taken. In April the agitation spread to Leeds,
where machinery was broken, and cloth &c., destroyed. Then there were
food riots among the Cornish miners, which lasted until the arrival
of troops. More Luddite riots at Leeds. Food riots among the Colliers
at Macclesfield. Then Bristol got tainted with the same lawless
spirit; then Sheffield, Stockport, Carlisle, Manchester, Bolton,
and elsewhere, but these riots were principally directed against
machinery. At the latter end of April, one of the chief ringleaders,
a man named Walker, was arrested, and safely lodged in Chester Gaol.
He was said to be General Ludd himself.
In May, there still were riots in the manufacturing district,
but these principally took the form of organized burglaries. At
last, on May 24th, there was a Special Commission to try those who
had been captured. Some were sentenced to imprisonment, some to
transportation, which, in those days really meant being sent across
the seas, and sixteen were condemned to be hanged--but five, only,
were left for death. In other parts of the country some were hanged,
but this really served only "_pour encourager les autres_," for the
riots still went on during June, August, and part of September; but
they were then dying out, a letter from Huddersfield, dated the 10th
of September, saying, "Several persons have been apprehended on
various charges of Luddism, and are now in custody here. A number of
others have, this week, abjured their illegal oath, and taken the
oath of allegiance; they see the calamities they have brought upon
themselves and neighbours, by the atrocious depredations they have
committed, and the delusions they have laboured under; and it is to
be hoped they will all follow the laudable example of those their
associates, in discharging themselves from that unlawful and ruinous
system in which they have, unfortunately, been engaged, and return to
their allegiance before it is too late." And so they did, for we do
not hear much of them afterwards. They were very ignorant, the price
of provisions, owing to the war, pressed heavily upon them, work was
scarce, and, to their minds, looked likely to be scarcer, owing to
the introduction of Machinery. Had the Home Government been a strong
one, the riots might have been stifled at their birth, for there was
not the false philanthropy preached then, as now, and the soldiery,
both officers and men, were ready to obey orders unflinchingly, and
without fear of being called to trial afterwards for their obedience.
Guineas and Bank Notes still exercised the public mind, and the
former must indeed have been hoarded up when we learn, early in
January, that 34,000 guineas in gold, the property of a gentleman
deceased, were offered for sale on 'Change at Belfast. Bank of
England notes were forged to a great extent, so much so, that the
total value of the forged Notes presented at the Bank of England for
payment, and refused, during eleven years, from the 1st of January,
1801, to the 31st of December, 1811, was £101,661.
"_Bank Notes_, it is said, once _Guineas_ defied
To swim to a point in Wade's foaming tide;
But 'ere they could reach the opposite brink,
_Bank Notes_ cried to _Gold_, "Help me! Cash us! I sink."
That Paper should sink, and guineas should swim,
May appear to some folks a ridiculous whim;
But before they condemn, let them hear this suggestion--
In _pun-making_, _gravity's_ out of the question."
In September of this year Silver had risen to 6s. 8d. per oz., and
Gold to £5 10s., equalling in value for a guinea £1 9s. 6d.
There is a curious story of the value of money, told in November of
this year. "A Gentleman in the Country sent to his banker in the
City, a parcel of guineas which were both light and heavy, with
directions to pass the value to his credit in account. The banker,
being a good and loyal subject, and unwilling to do an unlawful act,
credited his correspondent, with the heavy guineas at the rate of £1
1s. each, the value by law established; but the light ones he sent to
a Silver-smith, who returned for them Bank Notes, at the rate of £1
7s. each. A light guinea is thus proved to be worth 6s. more than one
of standard weight."
In April, Napoleon put out a feeler for peace with Great Britain, on
the basis that the Bourbons should reign in Spain; but, when inquiry
was made whether by that, he meant Ferdinand VII. he gave no reply,
and the negotiation, if ever serious, fell through.
One of the principal social events of the year was the Murder of
the Right Hon. Spencer Perceval, Chancellor of the Exchequer,
First Lord of the Treasury, and Prime Minister of England, who was
shot by the hand of an assassin John Bellingham, on the 11th of
May, whilst passing through the lobby of the House of Commons. He
was born November 1, 1762, so that, when he fell, he was in the
prime of life. He was of very good family, being the second son of
John, Earl of Egmont, in Ireland, and Baron Lovel and Holland in
England. His family was one of the very few that really came over
with the Conqueror, for Robert the second son of Eudes, sovereign
Duke of Brittany, settled in Normandy, and there became possessed
of the lordships of Brewehal and Ivery. As stated, he came over in
the Norman filibuster's suite, and in the course of two or three
generations the name of Brewehal, became changed into Perceval--and
ever afterwards so remained.
Spencer Perceval, studied for, and practised at, the Bar, being made
King's Counsel in 1796. In the same year, his first cousin, Lord
Compton, who was member for Northampton, succeeded to his father's
title of Earl of Northampton; and Perceval, offering himself for
the vacant seat, was elected without opposition. His rise was
rapid, and in 1801, being then in his 39th year, he joined Lord
Addington's Government as Solicitor-General. In 1802 he was made
Attorney-General. When Pitt resumed the government, he retained his
appointment, but resigned it at Pitt's death.
In Lord Portland's Ministry of 1807, he undertook the duties of
Chancellor and Under Treasurer of the Exchequer, and also Chancellor
of the Duchy of Lancaster. In October, 1809, he was First Lord of the
Treasury, and Prime Minister, and so continued until his sad end.
One may well ask why did Bellingham shoot Perceval? To this day I
cannot tell. In the year 1804, a Mr. John Bellingham--who had been
brought up in a Counting House in London, and, afterwards, lived
three years as clerk with a Russian Merchant at Archangel, whence
he had returned to England--went back to Russia on Mercantile
business--was there twice imprisoned--he said falsely--and treated,
according to his own account, with very great indignity. He
complained to the British Ambassador at Petersburg, and also to
the Secretary of Legation, but did not obtain his desired redress.
He returned to England in 1809, as he said, ruined in health and
fortune. But the British Ambassador, Lord Gower, declared that he
used all the influence he possessed (with propriety) in Bellingham's
favour; but that he was legally imprisoned for debt, upon the award
of four arbitrators, two of them British Merchants chosen by himself,
and the other two Russians; that his confinement was far from severe;
that he was allowed to walk at large, only under the inspection of
a police officer; and that he had received help in money from the
Secretary of Legation.
But he was "a man with a grievance," and went about to different
branches of the Government, detailing the _lâches_ of Lord Gower, and
the Secretary, for their culpable neglect in not looking properly
after the interests of a British Subject. He then determined to bring
his case before Parliament, and asked General Gascoyne to back his
petition, and the General promised to do so, provided it had the
countenance of Mr. Perceval, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, which
was considered necessary in all cases which involved a pecuniary
grant.
He wrote to poor Perceval, _for leave to bring in a Petition_, but
was answered that Mr. Perceval thought that his petition "was not of
a nature for the Consideration of Parliament." Then he went to the
Regent and the Privy Council, but to no purpose: made applications
all round, but met with no good, except a reference to the Chancellor
of the Exchequer: but here he had been refused help. Then he wrote
a letter to the Bow Street Magistrates, stating his case--saying
that he would, once more solicit his Majesty's Ministers, through
them, and, failing redress from that, he continued, "I shall then
feel justified in executing justice myself; in which case, I shall
be ready to argue the merits of so reluctant a measure, with his
Majesty's Attorney-General, wherever, and whenever I may be called
upon to do so. In the hopes of averting so abhorrent, but compulsive
an alternative. I have the honour to be, &c." The Magistrates
communicated the contents of this packet to the Secretary of State,
but it only resulted in a fresh disappointment.
He still kept on trying, and his idea of taking vengeance on some
one, increased, until it not only became fixed, but he planned its
carrying out. He had a pocket made in his coat of a peculiar size
and shape, in order to carry a pistol; and on the fatal 11th of May,
he hid himself behind one of the folding doors of the lobby of the
House of Commons; and when, about a quarter past five, the ill-fated
Chancellor made his appearance, Bellingham shot him through the
heart. Poor Perceval only reeled a pace or two, faintly called out,
that he was murdered, and then fell. The Illustration which I have
reproduced is the best I know, and the likenesses of both murderer
and victim are extremely good.
[Illustration: Mr. Percival Assassinated in the Lobby of the House of
Commons, May 11, 1812.]
Perceval was at once raised, and carried into the Speaker's
apartments, but he died in two or three minutes. His murderer made
no attempt to escape, but stood holding the pistol with which he
had committed the foul crime, and, when some one called out--"Where
is the rascal that fired?" he coolly stepped forward, saying, "I am
the unfortunate man," and quietly surrendered himself a prisoner. On
being searched, a loaded pistol was found in his pocket--the fellow
to that which he was still holding in his hand.
He was equally calm when brought before the bar of the House,
acknowledging the fact, and even attempting to justify it. He was
committed to Newgate, where two men were constantly with him in his
cell, to prevent any attempt at self-destruction. He was brought up
for trial at the Old Bailey on the 15th of May. The facts against him
were concisely and clearly stated, even to that of his having pockets
specially made to hold the pistols: and he conducted his own defence.
He gave an account of his sufferings for the past eight years, laying
the blame principally on Lord Leveson Gower, whom he regretted he
had not killed in place of Mr. Perceval. "He was obliged to the
Attorney-General and the Court for setting aside the plea of insanity
urged by his counsel, and could assure them, whenever he should
appear before the tribunal of God, he should be adjudged innocent of
the wilful murder of Mr. Perceval. That he perished by his hand he
admitted; but, to constitute felony, there must be _malice prepense_,
the wilful intention, which had not been proved. In this case, he had
been robbed of his property, his family ruined, and his mind tortured
through the conduct of Government Agents; and he was now to answer
for his life, because Mr. Perceval chose to patronize iniquity, and
refuse him redress."
Of course, this style of argument availed him nothing with the jury,
who, after a very brief consultation, brought him in "Guilty."
Sentence of death was passed upon him, and, as there was very little
sickly sentimentality in those days, as to carrying out the penalty
of the law, he was duly hanged on the 18th of May: his body being
given over to the surgeons for dissection. It is said that after his
body was opened, his heart continued its functions for four hours; in
other words, that he was living for that time.
The day after Mr. Perceval's assassination, the Prince Regent sent
a Message to Parliament recommending a provision being made for
Mrs. Perceval and her family, and an annuity of £2,000 was granted
her, together with a sum of £30,000 to her family. These were voted
unanimously, and two other votes were passed by large majorities--one
to provide a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey, the other
granting to his eldest son, Spencer Perceval, who was just about to
go to College, an annuity of £1,000, from the day of his father's
death, and an additional £1,000 yearly, on the decease of his mother.
One would have thought that there could have been but one feeling
throughout the nation, that of horror, at this dastardly murder, but
one town was the base exception. When the news of his murder reached
Nottingham, a numerous crowd publicly testified their joy by shouts,
huzzas, drums beating, flags flying, bells ringing, and bonfires
blazing. The Military being called out, and the Riot Act read, peace
was restored.