Social England under the Regency, Vol. 1 (of 2)

Laurence Eachard (who wrote in the reign of Anne) in his "History of England" (vol. ii. p. 649), speaking of Charles I. being buried at Windsor, and refuting a rumour that it was not so, says, "But to remove all imaginations, we shall here insert a memorandum, or certificate sent by Mr. John Sewell, Register at Windsor, Anno 1696, September 21. The same Vault in which King Charles the First was buried was opened to lay in a still born child of the then Princess of Denmark, now our gracious Queen. On the King's Coffin the velvet pall was strong and sound, and there was about the Coffin a leaden band, with this inscription cut through it – King Charles, 1648.

"Queen Jane's12 Coffin was whole and entire; but that of King Henry the Eighth was sunk in upon the breast part, and the lead and wood consumed by the heat of the gums he was embalmed with."

Sir Henry Halford published, in April, 1813, a narrative of the examination of the royal remains, which took place in the presence of the Prince Regent, and we see how it bears out Eachard's account. "On removing the pall, a plain leaden Coffin with no appearance of ever having been enclosed in wood, and bearing an inscription, 'King Charles, 1648,' in large, legible characters, on a scroll of lead, encircling it, immediately presented itself to view. A square opening was then made in the upper part of the lid, of such dimensions as to admit a clear insight into its contents. These were an internal wooden coffin, very much decayed, and the body carefully wrapped in cere cloth."

After this was unrolled, they had a perfect view of the King's face, and, although it had suffered from decay, "the pointed beard, so characteristic of the period of the reign of King Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was a long oval; many of the teeth remained, and the left ear … was found entire… When the head had been entirely disengaged from the attachments which confined it, it was found to be loose, and without any difficulty was taken up, and held to view…

"The hair was thick at the back part of the head, and in appearance nearly black. A portion of it, which has since been cleaned and dried, is of a beautiful dark brown colour: that of the beard was a redder brown. On the back part of the head, it was not more than an inch in length, and had probably been cut so short for the convenience of the executioner, or, perhaps, by the piety of friends soon after death, in order to furnish memorials of the unhappy King."

An examination of the muscles of the neck clearly proved that the head had been severed from the body by a heavy blow with a very sharp instrument, and this thoroughly confirmed the identification of the King. "After this examination of the head, which served every purpose in view, and without examining the body below the neck, it was immediately restored to its situation, the Coffin was soldered up again, and the vault closed.

"Neither of the other coffins had any inscriptions upon them. The larger one, supposed, on good grounds, to contain the remains of King Henry VIII., measured six feet, ten inches in length, and had been enclosed in an elm one, two inches in thickness; but this was decayed, and lay in small fragments near it. The leaden coffin appeared to have been beaten in by violence about the middle; and a considerable opening in that part of it, exposed a mere skeleton of the King. Some beard remained upon the chin, but there was nothing to discriminate the personage in it."13

After the publication of this report it was but a very few days before the Caricaturist had made the subject his own, and we see George Cruikshank's idea of it in the accompanying "Meditation among the Tombs." Sir Henry Halford is going to cut off some of Henry VIII.'s beard: the Regent saying to him, "Aye! There's great Harry! great indeed!!!!! for he got rid of many wives, whilst I, poor soul, can't get rid of one. Cut off his beard, Doctor, t'will make me a prime pair of Royal Whiskers." Lord Castlereagh (Privy Purse) behind him, says, "How queer King Charley looks without his head, doesn't he?!!! Faith and sure, and I wonder how WE should look without our heads!!!"

Whilst on the subject of Royalty, I may as well chronicle a shock which poor old Queen Charlotte had – on the 2nd of May – which must have frightened her terribly, for she actually sent for the Prince Regent. A woman, named Davenport, was assistant Mistress of the Robes, and she was born in the Queen's palace, and had lived constantly in it, with her mother, who was housekeeper at the Lower Lodge, Windsor, having previously filled the onerous, and arduous task of rocker to the infant princesses. Miss Davenport was about thirty years of age, and, when she was young, had a fit of insanity, of which, however, she was considered cured; and, except an occasional period of melancolia, was quite harmless.

However, on Sunday, the 2nd of May, she broke out, the balance of her mind having been overthrown ever since the death of the Princess Amelia. She slept in the Tower over the Queen's bedroom, and her Majesty was aroused at five in the morning by a violent noise at her door, hearing some one shrieking and screaming, and calling on the Queen of England to redress her wrongs. The bedroom had double doors, and the poor maniac, having smashed the outer door, was endeavouring to force the inner one, when Mrs. Beckendorf, the Queen's dresser, who slept in her room, opened it, and there found the poor woman clad only in her night-clothes, with a letter in her hand, which she insisted upon delivering to her Majesty. For twenty minutes Mrs. Beckendorf kept her at bay, ringing a bell all the while. A page, two footmen, and a porter, at length appeared on the scene, and overpowered the mad woman. Then Dr. Willis, who was in attendance upon the King, was sent for, and she was put into a straight jacket – which, owing to her violence, was with difficulty got on her. She was then carried into a chaise, and driven away to a private lunatic asylum. The Queen's nerves must soon have recovered, for she was at a grand dinner given in her honour at Carlton House, by the Prince of Wales on the 4th of May.

On this day the fasting woman of Tutbury, Ann Moore, who professed to live without food, confessed her imposture. Her miraculous abstention from nourishment was disbelieved in, and, at her own request, a committee of gentlemen watched her. Their vigilance proved too much for her, for nine days of such inspection reduced her to such a state of emaciation, that she put her mark to the following confession: "I, Ann Moore, of Tutbury, humbly asking pardon of all persons whom I have attempted to deceive and impose upon, and, above all, with the most unfeigned sorrow and contrition, imploring the divine mercy, and forgiveness of that God whom I have so greatly offended, do most solemnly declare that I have occasionally taken sustenance for the last six years." The following epigram was made on

"Tutbury Ann"She kept, what none would wish to keep, her bed,And, what few more would do, declin'd a dinner;Liv'd an eternal Lent, and shamm'd half dead,O Lord! forgive this ever-lying sinner."

In the war with America the British fleet was not always successful. On the contrary, and when the Shannon beat the Chesapeake, there were great rejoicings. In Boston harbour lay the United States frigate Chesapeake, Capt. Laurence, 49 guns, 18 and 32 pounders, and a crew of 400 men. Capt. Broke, commanding H.M. frigate Shannon, which was inferior both in weight of metal, and number of men, had long been watching it, anxiously awaiting an opportunity of an encounter. At length, on the 1st of June, he challenged a combat, by standing close in to Boston Lighthouse. He had not to wait long, for he had the pleasure of seeing the Chesapeake sailing out of the harbour. He took up a position within sight of the land, and the American frigate came proudly on, conscious of victory, so much so, as to have omitted providing accommodation for the wounded.

After two or three broadsides the Chesapeake closed with the Shannon, and they were locked together, so Captain Broke gave orders for boarding, himself setting the example. The Americans made a desperate, but undisciplined, defence, and the assault was so fierce, that after two minutes only, of hand-to-hand fighting, the Americans were driven from every post. In another minute they ceased firing from below, and cried for quarter. The Union Jack was then run up, and the whole was over in fifteen minutes from its commencement. The British lost 23 killed, and 56 wounded, out of a crew of 330 men: the Americans about 70 killed and 100 wounded. Captain Laurence, who was among the latter, subsequently died, and was honourably buried at Halifax. One can scarcely believe the astonishment and humiliation of the spectators on shore of this combat, when they saw their fine ship which sailed away so shortly before, in all the pride of expected victory, taken away in bondage, instead of returning with her captor.

George Cruikshank gives us his idea of the naval engagement in a long etching (which I have divided into two) published in "Town Talk," of the 1st of September, 1813. It is called "British Valour, and Yankee Boasting, or Shannon versus Chesapeake," and is full of bombast, both in drawing, and words. The Americans are evolved out of his inner consciousness, but I presume it was the current type of the time, as our delineation of a Citizen of the United States of America, is, when pourtrayed in one of our comic papers. Evidently they were considered as Puritans, and depicted as Maw-worms. Captain Broke has hold of one by the hair, and is crying out, "Down with your Stripes, you Swabs, or D – me, we'll stripe you." The sailor who has hold of one of the dead, by his pigtail and breeches, calls out to another, "Stand clear, Mess-mate, whilst I heave a few of these lubberly Yankee Doodles overboard." The sailor kicking a Yankee into the sea, says, "Go along, d – n you, don't you see they are waiting dinner for you?" This probably refers to a dinner which was to be given to the victors on their return. In the dinner tent one is saying, "Friends, I think you had better come and sit down, for if we wait till the Chesapeake comes back, I am afraid the dinner will be cold." Another replies, "Why, I don't think they will want much dinner, for they seem to have got their Belly full."

On the 21st of June, near the town of Vittoria, the Allied forces under Lord Wellington, attacked the French Army under Joseph Bonaparte, aided by Marshal Jourdain, and gained a most complete victory; having driven them from all their positions, and taken from them 151 pieces of cannon, 415 waggons of ammunition, all their baggage, provisions, cattle, treasure, &c., and a large number of prisoners. On the 5th and 6th of July there were brilliant and general illuminations in London in celebration of this victory. Much mischief was done by fireworks being let off in the streets, but at Bow Street, fifty people were punished for so doing, and very properly too, one man at least, who for the sake of throwing his squibs with surer aim, attached to each of them a leaden weight, of weight sufficient, it was believed, to kill a man, if it had struck him on the head.

On the 20th of July there was a grand public fête at Vauxhall, in honour of the same event, which commenced with a dinner at 5 p.m., the Duke of York presiding, accompanied by all his brothers, except the Prince Regent. At this dinner was shown Marshal Jourdain's baton, which was picked up on the field of battle by a sergeant of the 87th Regiment. Then the gardens were illuminated on a scale of grandeur never before attempted, bands played, the visitors promenaded, and there were three displays of fireworks, and the whole closed with dancing, the company not separating until 2 a.m. Numbers of tickets for the evening fête, not including the dinner, were sold at from three to ten guineas each.

On the 1st of July, at Tunbridge Wells, died a curious character, William Huntington (his proper name being Hunt), S. S., "Sinner Saved," as he delighted to call himself, Minister of the Gospel at Providence Chapel, Gray's Inn Lane. Born in the Weald of Kent, of very poor parents, he had a rough early life, as errand boy, labourer, and cobbler. Then he was "saved," and began preaching, first at Thames Ditton, then in London, at Margaret Street Chapel, and, by the power of faith and prayer, he finally built the Chapel of Providence. In his "Bank of Faith" he tells his reader somewhat of the commencement of this Chapel: —

"I will now inform my reader of the kind providence of my God at the time of building the Chapel, which I named Providence Chapel (1788): and also mention a few free-will offerings which the people brought. They first offered about eleven pounds, and laid it on the foundation at the beginning of the building. A good gentleman, with whom I had but little acquaintance, and of whom I bought a load of timber, sent it in with a bill and receipt in full, as a present to the Chapel of Providence. Another good man came with tears in his eyes and blessed me, and desired to paint my pulpit, desk, &c., as a present to the Chapel. Another person gave me half-a-dozen chairs for the Vestry; and my friends Mr. and Mrs. Lyons furnished me with a tea-chest well stored, and a set of china. My good friends Mr. and Mrs. Smith furnished me with a very handsome bed, bedstead, and all its furniture and necessaries, that I might not be under the necessity of walking home in the cold winter nights. A daughter of mine in the faith gave me a looking-glass for my chapel study. Another friend gave me my pulpit cushion and a bookcase for my study. Another gave me a bookcase for the vestry. And my good friend Mr. E. seemed to level all his displeasure at the devil; for he was in hopes I should be enabled, through the gracious arm of the Lord, to cut Rahab in pieces; therefore he furnished me with a sword of the Spirit – a new Bible, with Morocco binding and silver clasps!"

His preaching was of a decidedly "Revivalist" type; but his enthusiasm doubtless reclaimed to order and decency many of the lower classes. He mingled his religion with much worldliness, and he married Lady Sanderson (the widow of Sir James Sanderson, Bart., Lord Mayor of London), who was a constant attendant at his chapel, by which he became possessed of a considerable addition to his property. After the demolition of his Chapel in Margaret Street, the wealthier portion of his congregation proposed to build him another; and accordingly erected a Chapel in Gray's Inn Lane, at an expense of £9,000. A day was appointed for opening it; but he refused to officiate in it at all, until it should be made his own personal freehold: and, so great was the devotion of his followers, they resigned their shares in his favour.

He had a nice house at Pentonville, and it was there that his effects were sold on the 24th of September. All his disciples wanted some personal relic of him, and the consequence was, that the goods fetched fancy prices. As an instance, an old arm-chair, intrinsically worth about fifty shillings, fetched sixty guineas, and other articles in like proportion. There were several caricatures of this auction, but they afford neither profit nor amusement to the modern reader.

CHAPTER X

Emperor of Russia invested with the Garter – The Poet Laureate – French Prisoners of War – Joy over Napoleon's defeat at Leipsic – "Orange boven" – The Allies and the War with France – The War with America – The Princess Charlotte and her establishment – The Prince of Orange her suitor – The King's Health

Russia was an Ally against Napoleon, worth courting, and, consequently, the Emperor was made a Knight of the Garter. The Mission that was sent out to invest him was splendidly appointed. The King of Arms had a new tabard, robes, &c., and he, and all his suite, had new carriages especially built for the occasion. They took out with them the Statute passed at the last Chapter, authorizing the election of the Emperor as a member of the Order, with the Great Seal of England in a gold box and blue velvet case; and also the proceedings of the Election, similarly garnished. They took out a complete set of habiliments, decorations, and ornaments, necessary for his investiture, and, as my readers may not know what was then necessary for turning out a respectable and regulation Knight of the Garter, I transcribe them.

Shoes of white kid, ornamented with silver lace and roses.

Stockings and pantaloons of white silk, manufactured for the purpose, in one.

The Jacket, or Doublet, and trunk, of rich white silver tissue, ornamented with silver lace, in imitation of point lace.

A sword with gold hilt, the belt and scabbard covered with rich crimson velvet.

A surcoat of rich Crimson Velvet.

A large silver lace rosette for the right knee.

The Installation Garter, richly embroidered, for the left knee.

A superb mantle of Garter blue Velvet, lined with white lustring: the badge of the Order richly embroidered. The mantle is fastened on the neck with blue and gold rope, with two long rich tassels.

A hood of Crimson Velvet, which is worn on the right shoulder.

The gloves, white kid, trimmed with very broad silver lace.

A Spanish hat of black velvet, with a beautiful large plume of Ostrich and Heron's feathers.

The splendid Gold Collar of the Order, with the medal of St. George, to hang on the breast, with large bunches of broad white ribbons and rosettes.

Two Stars of the Order richly embroidered.

Flowing ringlets of hair, with a bunch of white ribbons to tie them. This latter item shows how minutely the Emperor's outfit was provided. It was an age of wigs – and the Emperor's close, military cut hair, was not en régle. Another event, which people talked about, at the time, was the death, on the 11th of August, of Henry James Pye, Poet Laureate, aged 69. He was the son of a Country gentleman, and was educated at Magdalen College, Oxon. After his father's death he lived at Faringdon, was made J.P., held a Commission in the Militia, and, in 1784, was elected M.P. for his County. His circumstances becoming involved, he had to sell his paternal estate. In 1790 he was made Poet Laureate, and, in 1792, was appointed one of the Magistrates for Westminster. He was not very remarkable as a poet, and, probably, his best read poems were "Faringdon Hill," and "The Progress of Refinement." There were several candidates for the honour of being his successor, including Sir Walter Scott. There is a little epigram concerning two of them, worth repeating —

"Croker and Wharton are roasted so dryBy every impartial Review,That, combined, they would make but a bad kind of stew,But, certainly, never a – Pye."

The choice eventually fell on Robert Southey (Nov. 29, 1813).

During the year we hear occasionally of the French Prisoners. On the 14th of April, two of them, on board the Samson, prison ship, of which we have heard before, in connection with a traitor being tattooed, fought a duel, and one was killed. Having no swords, they used two sticks, on the end of each of which was fastened a pair of scissors. The duel was meant to be à l'outrance, for one received a mortal wound in the stomach, from which his bowels protruded, yet he still fought on as long as he could. The prisoners, at last, applied to the ship's surgeon, who sewed up the wound, but the man died very shortly afterwards.

They must have been a bad lot on board that ship Samson, for we read: —

"July 19. A most diabolical conspiracy has been charged to have been formed on board the Samson prison ship, at Gillingham Reach, by three French prisoners, to murder the master's mate, and the sergeant of marines, belonging to the ship, together with several of their own countrymen. The murders were to have been perpetrated on each victim singly, as opportunities presented: when the escape of the murderer, by mixing instantly with the great body of the prisoners, was to be facilitated by the other conspirators, and lots were drawn who should commit the first murder.

"The first lot fell to Charles Mansereaux; but this man, being troubled by some compunctious visiting of conscience, on reflecting that the sergeant was a married man, with a family, who would be left destitute by his death, determined to despatch one of the private marines in his stead. On Tuesday se'n-night, when this wretch was watching for an opportunity to effect this purpose, Thomas King, a private marine, came on the forecastle, when Mansereaux stepped behind him, and plunged a knife into his back, which passed through the kidneys, and inflicted a dreadful wound, of which the poor fellow lingered till Saturday morning, when he expired. Mansereaux was observed by a fellow prisoner, who instantly knocked him down, and secured him, or he would, probably, have escaped without being detected. Mansereaux, on being confined, made a discovery of the whole plan, and named his associates, both of whom were standing by at the time of the murder." The three prisoners were at once secured, but I fail to trace their fate.

On the 22nd of September, three French prisoners escaped, and murdered a boatman, and the story is thus told in the Hants Courier: —

"Three French prisoners, François Relif, Jean Marie Dantz, and Daniel Du Verge, having effected their escape from Forton depôt, engaged the wherry of the above-named George Brothers, to take them to Ryde. When off the Block-house, (according to their own assertions), they proposed to the boatman to take them to France, promising ample reward, and liberty to return immediately; but he, not to be corrupted by promises or reward, resisted their proposition, and, in consequence, they stabbed him in sixteen places, (three of which were mortal,) and threw him overboard.

"The Frenchmen immediately directed their course to sea, and were promptly pursued by several wherries, in one of which were Lieut. Sullock, and three seamen of the Centaur, at anchor at Spithead. In consequence of a heavy swell, and bad management, the Frenchmen were overtaken, after a run of about 15 miles; one of the men belonging to the Centaur leaped into the wherry among the Frenchmen alone, armed with nothing but the stretcher, with which he knocked one of them down: they then surrendered.

"They were taken on board the Centaur for the night, and, on being searched, a large sum of money was found about them in silver, and three knives; one of them was very bloody; and on Thursday morning they were delivered into the hands of the civil power, and landed at the sally-port. They were taken to the Borough Gaol, when they were again examined. They confessed that Brothers was killed by two of them, but that the third was no further concerned than in lending his knife to the other, when the waterman resisted them. More money was here taken from them, one, having, actually, concealed in his pantaloons under his boots (sic) thirty-three 5s. 6d. pieces. It appears that, by the manufacture of lace, toys, &c., the prisoners accumulated a sufficient sum of money to procure a suit of genteel clothes each, (besides the sums taken from their persons), dressed in which they mingled with the crowd of visitors that were walking in the depôt, eluding by their metamorphosed appearance the vigilance of the turnkeys and military sentinels." What ultimately became of them I cannot find out, but, doubtless, two were hanged.

The period of Captivity for these Prisoners of War was drawing to a close, for Napoleon's power was waning fast, and the reverses which he experienced at the hands of the Allies at Leipsic on October 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, may be considered as having determined his final overthrow. The News was told to England in a London Gazette extraordinary, of November 3rd, and, on the 5th and 6th, London was brilliantly illuminated.

"Everywhere, except opposite Somerset House, there was the most perfect decorum and order, the crowds, both on foot, and in carriages, passed along without the slightest annoyance; but, in the Strand, the old disgraceful nuisance of scattering dirt and crackers, and throwing every species of combustible at females, and into carriages, was practised the whole evening."

Looking at the list of Illuminations, they were not very grand, when judged by our standard; but there was one transparency shown at Ackermann's Repository of Arts, which, although very grisly and grim in its conception, was of decidedly artistic merit. It was called "The Two Kings of Terror," and I have here reproduced a portion of it. The whole composition is thus contemporaneously described: "A design representing Buonaparte sitting upon a drum, in a field of battle, his hands under his chin, his elbows on his knees; opposite is seated Death upon a dismounted cannon, in the same position, his elbows upon his knees,' 'staring the tyrant in the face;' his right foot has crushed the insolent French trophy, the ci devant invincible French eagle, his left rests upon a cannon ball. In the background is seen the French legions, filled with dismay, flying before the conquering Germans, Russians, Prussians, and Swedes. The whole was surmounted by an emblematic Circle, indicative of Union and Strength, which was lighted by gas, and of dazzling brightness."