Commencement of Penny Post—Postage Stamps—Prince Albert’s allowance—The Times comments on the Marriage—Royal Wedding Cake—Louis Napoleon’s duel—Nelson Column—Noblemen’s servants—Uproar at the Italian Opera House.

The most important event in the beginning of this year was the inauguration of the Penny Post on Jan. 10. At the end of 1839, an uniform postage rate of 4d. per letter was tried on Dec. 5, which was so successful that the present penny postage was established, one feature of which, the prepayment of letters, was much appreciated by the public. The number of letters despatched by the Mails from the Metropolis, on the 10th, was much greater than was expected, amounting to 112,000, the daily average for January, 1839, having been about 30,000 only. Out of the 112,000 letters there were only 13,000 or 14,000 unpaid, and this was probably owing to the fact that people could not get out of their old habits all at once.

The Postage Stamps, however, were not ready, for we read in the Times of 17 Jan.: “The construction of the stamps is advancing with all speed, the several artists to whom they are intrusted being actively engaged upon them. In the stamp for letter paper and the adhesive stamp, a profile of the Queen is the principal ornament. The letter paper stamp is being engraved by Mr. Wyon, R.A., medallist to the Mint. Charles Heath is engraving the drawing taken from Wyon’s City medal, by H. Corbould, intended for the adhesive stamp. W. Mulready, R.A., has furnished the design for the cover and envelope, which is in the hands of John Thompson for engraving.”

And, now, until the Queen was married, all the talk was of that event. First of all Prince Albert must be made a naturalised Englishman, and a bill to that effect was read for the third time in the House of Lords on 21 Jan., in the Commons on the 22nd, and received the Royal Assent on the 24th. [119a] On the 23rd he was invested with the Order of the Garter at Gotha. The second reading of the Act for his naturalization was heard in the House of Lords on the 27th, but owing to some dispute as to the question of his precedence, it was adjourned until the 31st, when it was read, and on 3 Feb. it was read a third time, and it received the Royal Assent on 7 Feb. But there was another thing yet to be done, which was to supply His Serene Highness with Funds, and on Jan. 22 Lord John Russell proposed the sum of £50,000 per annum. The discussion thereon was adjourned until the 24th, and re-adjourned until the 27th, when Mr. Hume moved a reduction to £21,000, which was lost by a majority of 267. Col. Sibthorp then proposed a sum of £30,000, which was agreed to, and the Act received the Royal Assent on 7 Feb.

The feeling of the country on the subject of the Royal Marriage is, to my thinking, very fairly summarised in a leading article in the Times of 10 Feb., portions of which I transcribe: “It has followed from this policy, [119b] that an English monarch should, coeteris paribus, rather avoid than court an alliance with one of the first-rate powers of Europe, but should prefer security to aggrandizement, satisfied with a consort selected from a less prominent, and, therefore, less exposed, position. If there be safety, therefore, in comparative weakness and insignificance, we know not that, on such a ground, any other princely house throughout Europe, could offer inducements preferable to those possessed by those of Saxe-Coburg. Objections against this individual member of the family might, perhaps, present themselves to reflecting minds, on the score of his close consanguinity to Queen Victoria, a circumstance not usually looked upon as propitious to the hope of a flourishing offspring.

“Another argument might be urged against the match, from the undoubted fact that the name of Saxe-Coburg is not popular in this country, a misfortune for which we do not undertake to account; nor shall we longer dwell upon either of the above considerations, which we have hinted at, merely to shew that they have not wholly escaped our notice. . . .

“Prince Albert has now become one of us. He is, actually, now an English subject. He is tied to us by law and self-interest. Let us bind him to us by gratitude and affection. The happiness of our youthful Queen is now in his hands. He has the means of so directing and assisting her future footsteps, as to retrieve for Her Majesty (we speak with frankness, but with all respect) all she has forfeited in the hearts of the most loyal, enlightened and virtuous of her subjects, through her unhappy bias towards persons and principles which are hourly undermining the deep foundations of her Throne.

“We have said that it devolves upon Prince Albert to counteract a host of ‘evil influences,’ and to aid his Royal Consort in repairing ‘many very grievous errors’ into which selfish and treacherous counsellors have betrayed her, and which her constant separation (contrived by them) from all but one section, or coterie of her subjects, has served to render extremely difficult of correction.

“Queen Victoria has scarcely been permitted to see the general aspect of the British aristocracy, or to become acquainted with their sentiments, their characters, or their manners. The petty, artificial world framed and got up for her deception, is no more capable of suggesting to her mind the vast moral and social creation beyond its narrow boundaries, than one or two leaves of a hortus siccus exemplify the productions of a noble forest, or a varied and inimitable landscape. . . .

“Are the heads of the nation to be discovered at the Queen of England’s Court? Has the worth, or wisdom, or eminence of the nation any access to the society of the Sovereign? Have the clergy of England, or any of them—have their representatives—bishops, priests, or deacons, the opportunity of communicating personally with the temporal head of the Church of England? Are they, or any of them, ever seated at the Royal table, or received into the Royal presence, or favoured with the Royal smile? No; such associations comport not with the policy of her ministers; the ear of the Sovereign is whispered from the choicest of her subjects—the palace doors are locked inexorably against all but a certain clique.”

Let us turn from this little lecture to the Queen, honest and faithful though it be, to the all-absorbing subject of Gossip, the Royal Marriage—and first, and foremost, comes the Royal Wedding Cake, which weighed nearly 300lbs. It was three yards in circumference and about 14 inches deep. This was the cake itself, which, according to a contemporary account, “is covered with sugar of the purest white; on the top is seen the figure of Britannia in the act of blessing the illustrious bride and bridegroom, who are dressed, somewhat incongruously, in the costume of ancient Rome. These figures are not quite a foot in height; at the feet of His Serene Highness is the effigy of a dog, said to denote fidelity; and, at the feet of the Queen is a pair of turtle doves, denoting the felicities of the marriage state. A Cupid is writing in a volume expanded on his knees, the date of the marriage, and various other Cupids are sporting and enjoying themselves as such interesting little individuals generally do. These little figures are well modelled. On the top of the cake are numerous bouquets of white flowers tied with true lover’s knots of white satin ribbon, intended for presents to the guests at the nuptial breakfast.”

On 6 Feb. the Prince landed at Dover from Ostend, and on the 7th went to Canterbury; on the 8th he reached London and Buckingham Palace; and, on the 10th they were married at the Chapel Royal, St. James’; spent the honeymoon at Windsor, and made their rentrÉe into society on 26 Feb., when they went, in State, to Drury Lane Theatre.

Duelling, although on the wane, was far from dead. I could have given numerous instances of duels in the earlier part of this reign, but have refrained, as they were of no particular interest; but the following is an exception, as it relates to one who, in after years, was to make a great name in history for himself.

Times, 4 March:

Bow Street.—Shortly after the opening of the court yesterday morning, and before any of the night charges had been disposed of, Prince Louis Napoleon and Le Comte Leon, who is said to be the son of Bonaparte, to whom he hears a striking resemblance, were brought before Mr. Jardine, charged by Nicholas Pearce, inspector of the A division, with having met at Wimbledon Common, and attempted to commit a breach of the peace, by fighting a duel with swords and pistols.

Lieut.-Col. Jeremiah Ratcliffe, 6th Dragoons, as second to the last defendant, and Col. Charles Parquin, second to the Prince, together with Count D’Orsay, and a servant, named Mertial Kien, with aiding and assisting the principals in the intended combat.

Previous to the evidence being taken, two brace of pistols, with powder flasks, and a pair of rapiers, were laid on the table for the inspection of the magistrate.

Inspector Pearce, being sworn, said, about 2 o’clock this morning he received information from Superintendent Baker, that certain parties had an intention of meeting in a hostile manner on Wimbledon Common, some of whom were to start from Fenton’s Hotel and the others from Carlton Gardens; in consequence of which I went into St. James’s Street, where I saw a post-chaise drive up to the door of the hotel, about 7 o’clock, but I could not ascertain if any person had got into it. After delaying a short time, it moved slowly on in the direction of Piccadilly, followed by Col. Ratcliffe, and stopped again at Tattersall’s, where another person followed towards Hyde Park Corner. The chaise was then driven westward, and I followed it on horseback; but, previous to arriving at Hyde Park Corner, the defendant Ratcliffe passed, on horseback, in Piccadilly.

Mr. Jardine: What hour might it be then?

Witness: It was then nearly 7 o’clock. On arriving at the Common, I saw the entire party collected near to the Windmill, and the post-chaise proceeding in that direction. Having dismounted, and left the horse in the care of a countryman, I proceeded to where the chaises were standing, and then I saw the defendants walking away, from them, some yards down, to a hollow part of the ground, each party apparently making arrangements about the duel. They then stopped, and as I approached Col. Parquin, seeing two letters in one hand, and the two swords produced, in the other, I took them from him. At that time, the pistols produced, in a case, were lying on the ground, near to another brace, which were wrapped up in paper. Some conversation passed between Count D’Orsay and Col. Parquin, which appeared to be whether the combat was to be fought with pistols or with swords, and the Count asked me what I wanted; my authority for interfering; and who it was that gave me information of the circumstance. At that moment, Inspector Partridge, accompanied by Sergt. Otway and other constables, came up, and, on Col. Ratcliffe taking the pistols from the case, he was taken into custody. I instantly went to him, and, shewing him my staff, told him I was an officer, and that I was, in duty, bound to take him into custody, for attempting to commit a breach of the peace. Count D’Orsay requested to be told who it was who had given the information, and, on being refused, the entire party were quietly conveyed to the station house.

Mr. Jardine: Have you since ascertained that the pistols contained powder and balls?

Witness: Yes, Sir; there are balls in them, and caps upon them.

Colonel Ratcliffe declared there was no powder in the pistols, which belonged to him, as could be seen; for it had been arranged that the duel was to be fought with swords.

Mr. Jardine inquired if any of the defendants, who were foreigners, and not sufficiently conversant with the English language, would wish to hear the evidence read over to them in French?

Le Comte Leon replied in French, that he could not sufficiently understand the evidence that had been given, but he was quite satisfied that all the proceedings were perfectly legal and correct.

Prince Louis said, he was prepared, if required, to enter into an explanation of the circumstances which gave rise to the offence with which he was charged.

Mr. Jardine did not wish to hear any statement on either side, as his duty was only to prevent a breach of the peace, and he hoped the defendants were prepared with the sureties he would require, to prevent further inconvenience.

Count D’Orsay said, he had come prepared with bail, which he thought there could be no objection to.

Prince Louis requested that the two letters, which had been taken from his friend, should be delivered up to him.

Mr. Jardine immediately delivered up the letters, saying he should require the principals to enter into bail, themselves in £500 each, and two sureties in £250 each, to keep the peace with all Her Majesty’s subjects, and particularly with each other, for the next 12 months.

Count D’Orsay: One surety in £500, would, perhaps, answer as well as two in £250 each, if it meets with your approbation.

Mr. Jardine said he had no objection to such a course, and, if the other defendants were prepared with bail, it might be taken.

Col. Ratcliffe said his surety was present.

Mr. Jardine: The bail I shall require is, that each of the other defendants enter into his own recognizance in £100, and two sureties in £50 each, to keep the peace for the same period, with the exception of the defendant Kien, who may put in his own recognizances in £100.

Mr. Joshua Bates, of Portland Place, having offered himself as surety for Prince Louis Napoleon and Col. Parquin, was accepted.

Mr. Fenton was accepted as bail for Le Comte Leon, and the Hon. Francis Baring, M.P., became surety for Col. Ratcliffe and Count D’Orsay.

The Chief Clerk having conducted the parties into the Magistrate’s private room, where they were furnished with the requisite notices, returned to the Court to take directions respecting the disposal of the weapons and other articles which were found upon the defendants on their being taken into custody.

Mr. Jardine said he could make no order about them, but he thought that, as the defendants had put in bail, there could be very little apprehension of their committing a similar offence, if they were restored to their proper owners.

It appeared that the two letters had been written by the Comte Leon to his cousin, as he was styled, demanding that he would retract certain expressions respecting their relationship, which he was alleged to have made use of; and, his not complying, gave rise to the quarrel.

On the 10th of April the offer of Messrs. Grissell and Peto was accepted, to erect the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Square, within two years, for a sum of £17,860.

There is a curious police case as to the habits and customs of Noblemen’s servants, which may be interesting to my readers. It was brought before the Magistrate at Queen Square on 14 April, when the House Steward of the Earl of Galloway applied for summonses against the footmen attending the carriages of Viscount Melbourne, the Marquis of Normanby, the Marquis of Lansdowne and Lord Tankerville, for assault and damage.

It appeared from the statement of the applicant, that the servants attending the carriages of peers, to the House of Lords, have a waiting room, which they call their Club room, and that they have formed themselves into a society, governed by one of their body, whom they call their “Constable.” They have a set of rules, dated as far back as 1759, obedience to which is strictly enforced under pain of certain fines.

On Friday evening, the coachman of the Earl of Galloway set his lordship down at the House of Lords, with orders to wait. The footman, who was, it appears, a new comer, was, on entering the club room, called upon to pay a fine, or “footing” of two shillings, to be spent in beer, but he replied that he had no money about him; and, on their insisting on its being paid, he left the room, and got on the carriage box, with the coachman, but the “members,” headed by their Constable, with his staff of office, pursued him, insisted upon his coming down, and were about to pull him off the box, when the coachman told them that his fellow servant had no money with him, but, if they would go, he would be answerable that it should be paid. They, however, insisted that it should be spent in their Club, and that the new servant should be present.

Mr. Burrell: How many were there of them?

Applicant said there were, he understood, 10 or 12, but it was only intended to proceed against the four ringleaders. The coachman, finding that they were determined to have his fellow servant off the box, drove on a little way, and, on returning to his place, Lord Normanby’s carriage ran against his, and seriously damaged it. The footman was, at length, dragged from the box, and very roughly handled: his foot was hurt. The coachman was also struck with the long “staff” carried by the “constable.”

Samuel Linturn, the footman, corroborated this statement.

The summonses were granted.

It was stated that Lord Normanby, at once, offered to make good the damage done, but this the Earl of Galloway declined, having determined that the whole matter should be publicly investigated by a magistrate.

Two days afterwards, four footmen in the employ of Lords Melbourne, Lansdowne, Normanby and Tankerville appeared to answer the summonses.

The complainant, in the course of his evidence, said that he had been to the House of Lords on several previous occasions, but had never been asked for anything, nor did he even know of the existence of such a room. Turk asked him whose servant he was, but he refused to tell him. Turk, at the time, had, in his hand, a pointed stick, which he called a staff; he made no demand for money then, but went away, and the complainant got on the box with the coachman, who took the coach to the stand. Turk, accompanied by several others, then came up. The Marquis of Bute’s footman said he would pay the fine, or footing, and placed two shillings on the footboard of the carriage for that purpose. This did not satisfy them. Several persons, amongst whom were the defendants, got upon the coach, and swore that if he did not come down, they would pull him down. There were several police about, and, although he called upon them for assistance, they would not come.

Both he and the coachman told them that he had no money, and the coachman said he would secure them payment, if they would go and drink the beer, but they insisted upon the complainant’s presence in the “club.” He still refused, and then they brought a long pole, which they called a “horse.” The coachman drove up Abingdon Street to avoid them, but several of the carriages drew out of the rank, and followed them, and, as the coachman turned to regain his station, Lord Normanby’s carriage was driven against him, and the Earl of Galloway’s carriage sustained considerable damage; it was forced on the footway, and was obliged to stop, upon which, several of the footmen ran, and seized the horses by their heads. The defendants dragged the complainant off the box; one had hold of his foot, and another, who seized upon his greatcoat, tore the buttons from it, and from his gaiters and breeches. They then placed him upon the pole, which they called “putting him on horseback.”

They then rode him into the room mentioned, where Lord Holland’s footman sat as chairman, and decided that he should pay two shillings. He borrowed the money from Lord Lansdowne’s servant, and was about to leave the room, but he was forced to resume his seat, as he was told he could, from the room, easily hear when the carriage was called, and that “he must sit and drink his beer.” He was also told that he was now sworn in, and had only to kiss the staff, which was presented to him, but he refused to do it. He was detained three-quarters of an hour, against his will. His foot was hurt, and the coachman was injured by a blow from the “staff.”

The coachman corroborated the evidence, and the defendants were fined ten shillings each.

On the 29th April, there was an uproar in the Italian Opera House, which might have expanded into another O.P. riot of 1809. The Impresario, M. Laporte, had not engaged Tamburini, because his terms were too high, and the singer’s friends were highly indignant. On this evening, at the conclusion of the opera of I Puritani, several voices began calling for M. Laporte, with shouts of “Tamburini!” Poor M. Laporte appeared and began a speech in which he sought to excuse himself, but it was drowned by a torrent of groans and hisses, which came, principally, from the occupants of the “omnibus” box. [128] M. Laporte so clearly perceived this, that, in a few minutes, his speech to the audience merged into a private conversation with its occupants. The noise increased, and M. Laporte declared that he was not to be “intimidated,” a word which roused the “omnibus” party to perfect fury. He retired, and the curtain rose for the ballet, in which a new dancer was to have made her appearance. The noise, now, became terrible; yells, hisses, and all sorts of uncouth sounds were blended in frightful discord. The dancers, perceiving all attempts at a performance were in vain, and, at the same time, being afraid to quit the stage, sat quietly, all round.

Again and again Laporte came forward, and tried to bring matters to a settlement, and once he ventured to say, that, as manager, he had a right to engage performers at his own discretion, and that he was not to be responsible to an audience—which, it is needless to say, added fuel to fire. Then he told them his engagements would not allow him to employ Tamburini, which meant ruin to him, but it only provoked more noise. Then he appealed to their better feelings by telling them of the many years he had catered for their amusement, and this did bring him some support, for cries of “Shame,” “No Tamburini,” and “No Intimidation,” were heard, but this only had the effect of dividing the audience, and increasing the hubbub.

Once again poor Laporte came forward, and talked of engaging Tamburini on “Conditions.” This word upset all, and the Tamburinists asked: “Will you engage him? Yes, or No?” Laporte said he would make proposals, and, if those proposals, etc. This would not do; “Yes, or No?” said his persevering interrogators. “Say ‘No,’” said his supporters. He began talking about terms. “Same terms as last year,” shouted all the “Omnibus” party, upon which he retired, without proposing anything satisfactory. Everyone was getting tired, when, at last, a gentleman, in a box opposite the “Omnibus,” stepped over the front of his box on to the stage, and was followed by a party; the “Omnibus” party entered the stage from the opposite side, and, at one o’clock, the Tamburinists had taken possession, and waved their hats triumphantly, on the stage, as the curtain fell.

It was this episode that the Rev. R. H. Barham has immortalized in his Ingoldsby Legends, under the title of “A Row in an Omnibus (box),” beginning:

Doldrum the Manager sits in his chair,
With a gloomy brow and dissatisfied air,
And he says, as he slaps his hand on his knee,
‘I’ll have nothing to do with Fiddle-de-dee!

‘—But Fiddle-de-dee sings clear and loud,
And his trills and his quavers astonish the crowd.
Such a singer as he,
You’ll nowhere see,
They’ll all be screaming for Fiddle-de-dee!

‘—Though Fiddle-de-dee sings loud and clear,
And his tones are sweet, yet his terms are dear!
The glove won’t fit!
The deuce a bit.
I shall give an engagement to Fal-de-ral-tit!’”