Gossip in the First Decade of Victoria's Reign

Has my reader forgotten The Boy Jones? He turns up again in this chronicle, for, on Wednesday, the 2nd of December, the inmates of Buckingham Palace were, shortly after midnight, aroused by an alarm being given that a stranger had been discovered under the sofa in Her Majesty’s dressing-room, and the officers of the household were quickly on the alert. It was soon ascertained that the alarm was not without foundation, and the daring intruder was immediately secured, and safely handed over to the tender mercies of the police. The report of the occurrence spread very rapidly, and created the most lively interest in London, as it was feared that the consequent alarm might be attended with the most dangerous effects to the health of the Queen, who had been confined only eleven days previously. Happily, neither mother, nor child suffered in any way.

The facts, as far as can be gathered – the examination being a private one, conducted by the Privy Council – seem to have been as follows: Shortly after midnight, one of Her Majesty’s pages, accompanied by other domestics of the Royal household, was summoned into Her Majesty’s dressing-room, which adjoined the bed chamber in which Her Majesty’s accouchement had taken place, by Mrs. Lilly, the nurse, who thought she heard a noise. A strict search was made; and, under the sofa on which Her Majesty had been sitting, only about two hours’ previously, they discovered a dirty, ill-looking fellow, who was immediately dragged from his hiding place, and given into custody. The prisoner was searched, but nothing of a dangerous nature was found upon him, and the police, at once, recognised their captive as the Edward Jones, who had, two years previously, entered the palace in such a mysterious way. He is described as being very short for his age, seventeen, and of a most repulsive appearance; but he was, apparently, unconscious of this defect, as he affected an air of great consequence, and repeatedly requested the police to address him in a becoming manner; also behaving with the greatest nonchalance at his examination before the Privy Council, the next day.

His first version of the matter was this: On Monday night, the 30th of November, he scaled the wall of Buckingham Palace, about half-way up Constitution Hill; he then proceeded to the Palace, and gained an entry through one of the windows. He had not, however, been long there, when he considered it unsafe for him to stay, as so many people were moving about; and he left by the same manner as he entered. The next day, Tuesday, about nine o’clock in the evening, he again effected an entrance by the same means as before. He then went on to state that he remained in the Palace the whole of Tuesday night, all Wednesday, and up to one o’clock on Thursday morning, when the inquisitive youth was captured. He was not satisfied with this dull and prosaic account of his entry; but, on the following day, he tried to invent something marvellous, and alleged that he ascended the roof of the Palace, and got down the chimney; but there were no marks of soot on his person, and his first story was, doubtless, the correct one.

The greatest mystery attending the affair was, how he could have found his way to the room adjoining that in which Her Majesty slept, without being observed. The delinquent stated that, during the day, he secreted himself under different beds, and in cupboards, until, at length, he gained an entrance into the dressing room; he, moreover, alleged that he sat upon the throne, that he saw the Queen, and heard the Princess Royal cry, but his story was such a romance, that no reliance could be placed upon it. He was extremely reticent as to the cause of his intrusion into the Palace, the only explanation which he vouchsafed, on being arrested, was, that he wanted to see what was going on in the Palace, that he might write about it, and, if discovered, he should be as well off as Oxford, who fared better in Bedlam, than he, Jones, did out of it. Even the stern discipline of the treadmill, to which he was promptly consigned, failed to extract anything more out of him; his only remark, when interrogated, being that he had got into the scrape, and must do the best he could.

His father stated that, in his belief, his unfortunate son was not of sound mind; but the medical evidence went to show that, though his head was of a most peculiar formation, he was not insane. The Council, therefore, came to the decision that it would be better to inflict summary punishment, and he was committed to the House of Correction for three months, as a rogue and vagabond.

If he is to be believed, he fared remarkably well whilst in his royal residence, as he said he helped himself to soup and other eatables from a room, which he called the “Cook’s Kitchen,” but no dependence whatever could be placed on his word.

Prince Albert was taking leave of Her Majesty for the night, when the miscreant was discovered; and the Prince, hearing a noise proceeding from the adjoining apartment, opened the door, and ascertained the cause; but it was not made known to the Queen till the following day, so as to prevent any undue alarm on her part.

It is needless to say that this event excited the greatest interest, and engrossed public attention, nothing else being talked of. The punishment was considered far too light to deter a repetition of the offence, which opinion was subsequently justified. Such an occurrence, of course, was considered fair material for the humourists of the day to exercise their wit upon, and there are many allusions to it in the Age and Satirist of the period; but, as their remarks are not always conceived in the best taste, they are better left in the obscurity in which they now dwell. Perhaps, however, this little couplet from the Satirist may be excepted:

“Now he in chains and in the prison garb isMourning the crime that couples Jones with darbies.” 11

It was Jones’s extraordinary powers of finding an entrance into the Palace that caused Samuel Rogers to declare that he must be a descendant of the illustrious In-i-go.

On the 15 Dec. the remains of the Emperor Napoleon, which had been removed from St. Helena, were laid, with great pomp, into the tomb prepared for them at the Invalides, Paris; and, contrary to all expectation, there was no disturbance on the occasion.

CHAPTER XV

Death of Scott, “the American Diver” – Prince Albert’s ducking – Monster cheese – “The Boy Jones” – “Tracts for the Times,” Tract XC – Earl of Cardigan flogs a soldier on Sunday – Dispute as to the discovery of Electric Telegraph – Sale of Shakspere autograph – The Census – Astley’s burnt – Behaviour of “gentlemen.”

The first bit of gossip of this year was the tragic death of Sam Scott, “the American diver,” who was born at Philadelphia, and, at an early age, entered the American navy. His extraordinary courage and prowess as a diver rendered him very popular, and, after quitting the naval service, he travelled about the Union exhibiting. He, subsequently, visited Canada, and made some tremendous leaps from the banks of the St. Lawrence, and the lakes which intersect that country; but his chef d’œuvre was leaping from a precipice below the Falls of Niagara, where, according to his own statement, he jumped the amazing distance of 595 feet, into the water, which he accomplished without injury or inconvenience!

He was performing in England in 1838, and came to London in the latter part of 1840; and we now hear of him as issuing a “Challenge to the World for 100 Guineas! Monday next, Jan. 11, 1841, and during the week, Samuel Scott, the American diver, will run from Godfrey’s White Lion, Drury Lane, to Waterloo Bridge, and leap into the water, forty feet high from the bridge, and return back within the hour, every day during the week, between one and two o’clock.” There were about 8,000 or 10,000 people assembled to see the feat, which was to be performed from a scaffolding overhanging the river. Here he swung by a rope noose round his chin, and afterwards, with his head downwards and one of his feet in the noose. He then again hung suspended by his chin, but the noose slipped, and he was hanged in sight of all that huge crowd. This fatal accident created a great impression at the time.

I do not know the Evening paper from which the following “small beer” chronicle is copied into the Times of 12 Feb., but it purports to be an “authentic account” of an accident to Prince Albert: “It appears that His Royal Highness was walking in the Royal gardens, in company of Her Majesty, the only attendant present being the Hon. Miss Murray, one of the Maids of Honour in waiting upon the Queen. It not being understood by Col. Bouverie and Lieut. Seymour that His Royal Highness intended to skate, they were not, as usual, in attendance on the Prince, who had left the Palace, with Her Majesty, without their knowledge. After walking for a short time with the Queen, on the margin of the lake, His Royal Highness put on his skates, and left Her Majesty, who remained watching the movements of the Prince from the gardens. He had not been on the ice more than two or three minutes, when, as he was proceeding at a rapid rate towards the spot where the Queen was standing, and had reached between three or four feet of the water’s edge, the ice suddenly broke, and, instantaneously he was immersed, head over ears, in the water. His Royal Highness immediately rose to the surface, when Her Majesty, with great presence of mind, joined her hand to that of the Hon. Miss Murray (telling her to stand firm, and to betray no fear), and, extending her right hand to the Prince, dragged him to the shore. Her Majesty manifested the greatest courage upon the occasion, and acted with the most intrepid coolness. As soon as the Prince was safe on dry land, the Queen gave way to the natural emotions of joy and thankfulness at his providential escape.

“The Prince then lost no time in proceeding to the Palace, where a warm bath was immediately prepared, and His Royal Highness, within an hour afterwards, was sufficiently well to receive the King of the Belgians, upon His Majesty’s arrival from Claremont. The ice in the centre of the lake being nearly a foot in thickness, some surprise has been created that the accident should have occurred; but it appears that the keepers appointed to attend on the numerous and various aquatic birds which are preserved in the gardens of the palace, had broken the ice along the sides of the lake to enable them to take the water during the frost. These portions had again become slightly frozen over, since they were broken at an early part of the morning. This was unknown to the Prince, or the Queen, and, hence, the accident occurred. There was no person present, at the time, connected with the gardens, to point out his danger to His Royal Highness. Yesterday morning, the Prince was suffering from the effects of a slight cold; but, beyond this, His Royal Highness has sustained no inconvenience.”

On the 10th Feb. the Princess Royal was christened.

On 19 Feb. the Queen had a monster cheese presented to her, “on which occasion, she was pleased to express her satisfaction.” It was made from the morning’s milking of 737 cows, prepared by the labour of 50 dairy women, at West Pennard, Somersetshire, and it weighed 11 cwt. It was octagon in shape, and its upper surface was decorated with the Royal Arms, surmounted with a wreath of roses, thistles and shamrocks. Unfortunately, although it had been made over two years, it was not considered to be fit to eat for another eighteen months.

Ecce iterum the irrepressible Boy Jones! Prison evidently had no terrors for him; for, no sooner was he liberated from Tothill Fields, on 2 Mar., than he, almost immediately, set to work to repeat his former escapades. On the day previous to his liberation, he was visited by Mr. Hall, a magistrate, who tried to persuade him to go to sea; but Jones made certain conditions which could not be acceded to, and he did not go. This gave an opportunity for the Satirist to come out with the following appropriate lines:

“The impudent urchin, whom sure the devil owns,

And Government wants to send into the Navy;

Will not go to sea – and ’tis cunning of Jones,

Who, thus, may avoid his relation, Old Davey.”

He was then delivered into the care of his parents, with strict injunctions to them to watch his actions; and, for some days, his conduct was unexceptionable; he frequently attended a Methodist chapel, and expressed his intention of joining a teetotal society. But the charms of notoriety were too strong for him; and, again, he was drawn, as it were by a magnet, to Buckingham Palace. Indeed, it possessed such attractions for him, that, when required to pledge himself, before leaving prison, not to visit the Palace again, he said he would not promise, as his curiosity was so great.

On 15 March, shortly after 1 a.m., the sergeant of police on duty at the Palace imagined, as he was going along the Grand Hall, that he saw someone peeping through the glass door, and this turned out to be the case; for, on his approach, Jones ran up against him, and was, of course, immediately secured. In consequence of his previous visits, two extra policemen had been appointed, whose duty it was, on alternate nights, to watch all the staircases and interior of the building, and it was owing to this arrangement that Master Jones was stopped early in his career, on this last occasion.

Like most boys, Jones had a keen appreciation of a feast, all the more enjoyable because irregularly come by; and, when he was arrested, he was found to have been sitting at his ease in one of the royal apartments, regaling himself with some cold meat and potatoes, which he had conveyed upstairs in his handkerchief. On being questioned how he obtained an entrance, his reply was, “the same way as before”; and he boasted, moreover, that he could, at any time he pleased, get into the palace; but he was extremely taciturn, and refused to satisfy curiosity, more particularly on this point.

What he confessed at his examination by the Privy Council is not known, as the proceedings were in private, reporters being excluded, and the public were left in possession of only the above bare facts. He persisted that the only motive for his intrusion was to hear the conversation at Court, and to write an account of it; but this plea of simplicity did not save him from a repetition of his old sentence of three months imprisonment in the House of Correction, with the uncomfortable addition, this time, of hard labour. Perhaps the best punishment for this juvenile addition of Paul Pry would have been that suggested by the Satirist, in the following paragraph: “As the urchin Jones, in a letter to his father, stated that his reason for entering the Queen’s house was to ‘seek for noose, in order to rite a book,’ it is a matter of general regret that, instead of magnifying the affair into Home Office importance, the young rogue was not accommodated with a rope’s end.” His visit, however, necessitated the appointment of three additional sentries at the palace.

What became of him afterwards, nobody knows and nobody cares, but, one thing is certain, he was persuaded to go to sea, and Punch (born 17 July) devotes a page (vol. i., p. 46) to “The Boy Jones’s Log,” a portion of which is as follows:

“This mellancholly reflexion threw me into a poeticle fitte, and though I was werry uneasy in my stommik, and had nothing to rite on but my chest, I threw off as follows in a few 2nds, and arterards sung it to the well-none hair of ‘Willy Reilly’: —

“Oakum to me, 12 ye sailors bold,Wot plows upon the sea;To you I mean for to unfoldMy mournful historie.So pay attention to my song,And quick-el-ly shall appear,How innocently, all along,I was in-weigle-ed here.“One night, returnin home to bed,I walk’d through Pim-li-co,And, twigging of the Palass, sed,‘I’m Jones and In-i-go.’But afore I could get out, my boys,   Pollise-man 20A,He caught me by the corderoys,   And lugged me right a-way.“My cuss upon Lord Melbun, and   On Jonny Russ-all-so,That forc’d me from my native land,   Across the waves to go-o-oh!But all their spiteful arts is wain,   My spirit down to keep;I hopes I’ll soon git back again,   To take another peep.”

To follow Chronology compels me to turn suddenly from gay to grave topics. In September, 1833, Newman commenced the Tracts for the Times, which, according to its advertisement, had the object of “contributing something towards the practical revival of doctrines (such as the Apostolic Succession, and the Holy Catholic Church) which, although held by the great divines of our Church, have become practically obsolete with the majority of her members.” Keble and others joined him at once, as did Pusey as soon as the state of his health permitted, together with nearly all the advanced thinkers at Oxford. These Tracts, issued from time to time, caused a mighty upheaval in the Church of England, which was known as the “Tractarian movement,” the effects of which have lasted to this day, as may be witnessed in the vast extension of Church building, the larger attendance and more devout behaviour of congregations, the brighter and more ornate services, which are so great a contrast to the general sleepiness both of pastor and flock which then existed.

Some of these Tracts went farther than people were, as yet, able to follow, they were “strong meat for babes,” and the publication of Tract XC., by Newman, on the Thirty-nine Articles, brought things to a climax, and on 15 March, the Vice-Chancellor and the Heads of Houses met to censure the publication; they came to the resolution: “That modes of interpretation, such as are suggested in the said Tract, evading rather than explaining the sense of the Thirty-nine Articles, and reconciling subscription to them, with the adoption of errors which they were designed to counteract, defeat the object, and are inconsistent with the due observance of the Statutes of the University.” They only expressed their opinion which was all they could do, but Newman avowed the authorship of the Tract, and whilst he was still unconvinced of his error, he wrote, “I am sincerely sorry for the trouble and anxiety I have given to the members of the Board, and I beg to return my thanks to them, for an act which, even though founded on misapprehension, may be made as profitable to myself, as it is religiously and charitably intended.”

At this time, neither the writers of the Tracts, nor their readers, had any intention of severing themselves from the Church of England, their sole endeavours were to wake it from the torpor into which it had fallen; and, had there been any tolerance on the other side, such men as Newman, Manning, and others, would have been kept to the Church, for they merely enunciated doctrine and practices which are now almost universal.

The old flint-lock Brown Bess was still in use in the Army, although percussion arms were introduced in 1840; but we read (13 Ap.) that “the exchange of flint for percussion cap guns to the Army, will cost, this year, £130,000.”

That amiable gentleman, the Earl of Cardigan, was still making himself notorious. This time it was flogging a soldier on Easter Sunday, after Church; and the very first question asked in the House of Commons, when it met after the Easter recess, was by Mr. Hume, relating to it. Mr. Macauly replied that: “Whatever other imputations there might be cast on Lord Cardigan, a disposition for the infliction of corporal punishment was not one which could justly be thrown on him. From inquiries which he had made, he had found that, since 1839, up to the recent case, there was not an instance of the infliction of corporal punishment in this regiment. The charge, however, for which he was justly liable to public censure, was the immediate infliction of punishment, on a Sunday, after Divine Service. Such a proceeding was clearly contrary to the religious feelings and habits of the people of this country, and could not be reconciled with either good sense, or good feeling.” Lord Hill, the Commander-in-Chief, only felt “surprised” at Lord Cardigan’s conduct; but the Times of 24 Apl. had a most scathing leading article on the subject, winding up with “we trust some independent member of the House of Commons will take an early opportunity of cutting the Gordian knot, and move an address to the Crown for the removal of the Earl of Cardigan from the Lieut. – Colonelcy of the 11th Hussars.” 13

The Electric Telegraph being now a fait accompli, the honour of the discovery was disputed between Cooke and Wheatstone – both claiming it. It was settled by arbitration, the referees being Marc Isimbard Brunel, the eminent civil engineer, and Professor Daniell, the inventor of the Galvanic battery which bears his name, and their Solomonian judgment was as follows: “While Mr. Cooke is entitled to stand alone, as the gentleman to whom this country is indebted for having practically introduced and carried out the Electric Telegraph as a useful undertaking, promising to be a work of national importance; and Professor Wheatstone is acknowledged as the scientific man, whose profound and scientific researches had, already, prepared the public to receive it as a project capable of practical application; it is to the united labours of two gentlemen so well qualified for mutual assistance, that we must attribute the rapid progress which this important invention has made during the five years since they have been associated.”

On 24 May was sold by auction an undoubtedly authentic signature of Shakspere, attached to a deed, thus described in the catalogue: “Shakspere’s autograph affixed to a deed of bargain and sale of a house purchased by him, in Blackfriars, from Henry Walker, dated March 10, 1612, with the seals attached.” The poet is described as “Wm. Shakspeare, of Stratforde upon Avon, in the countie of Warwick, gentleman”; and the premises thus: “All that dwelling house, or tenement, with the appurtenance, situate and being within the precinct, circuit and compasse of the late black ffryers, London, sometymes in the tenure of James Gardiner, Esqre., and since that time, in the tenure of John Ffortescue, gent, and now, or late being in the tenure or occupacon of one William Ireland, or of his assignee or assignees; abutting upon a streete leading down to Pudle Wharffe on the east part, right against the King’s Majesties Wardrobe; part of wch said tenement is erected over a great gate leading to a capitall messuage, wch sometyme was in the tenure or occupacon of the Right Honourable Henry now Earle of Northumberland.” The deed, at the commencement is stated to be “betweene Henry Walker, Citizen and Minstrell, of London, of thone partie, and William Shakspeare, of Stratforde upon Avon, in the countie of Warwick, gentleman; William Johnson, Citizen and Vintner, of London; John Jackson and John Hemyng, of London, of thother partie”; and that the property was absolutely sold to all four, “theire heires and assigns for ever.” The deed is regularly entered in the Rolls’ Court Sir F. Madden (continues the catalogue) states in his “Observations on the autograph of Shakspere,” in Florio’s translation of Montaigne’s Essays, which was sold in 1838: “There are five acknowledged genuine signatures in existence, exclusive of the one which forms the subject of this communication. Of these, three are attached to his will in the Prerogative Court, executed the 25th March, 1615–16; the fourth is written on a mortgage deed, dated 11 March, 1612–13; of a small estate purchased by Shakspere, of Henry Walker, in Blackfriars; and the fifth, on the counterpart of the deed of bargain and sale of the said property, dated 10 March, 1612–13; and, speaking of the last, Sir F. Madden says, at p. 14: ‘What has become of this document?’ a query which the auctioneers say is answered. Of these six signatures, three to the will are in Doctors’ Commons (two of them much injured by the hands of the lovers of Shakspere); the one in Montaigne’s Essays is now in the British Museum; what has become of the mortgage deed is quite unknown: this, then, is the only autograph of Shakspere ever likely to be offered for sale.” After many and very animated biddings it was eventually knocked down to Mr. Elkins for £165 15s. These two deeds are now in safe keeping, one being in the British Museum, the other belonging to the Corporation of the City of London. The authenticity of the signature in Montaigne’s Essays is open to discussion. At the same sale was sold “the Shakspere Cup,” made from the mulberry tree said to have been planted by Shakspere, carved on the sides with a medallion of Shakspere, and his Coat of Arms. This was for nearly 30 years in the possession of Munden, the actor, and it realised £21. In the British Museum is a beautifully-carved casket, made of the same wood, which, together with the freedom of Stratford-on-Avon, was given to Garrick by the Corporation of the town in 1769.