The Mulready Envelope—Plans of Royal Exchange decided on—Fire at York Minster—Queen shot at by Oxford—Oxford in Bedlam—Scientific Agriculture—Electro-metallurgy—Embossed envelope—Sale of Louis Napoleon’s effects. On the 1st of May, the Post Office issued the long expected postal envelope designed by W. Mulready, R.A., and the opinion of The Times may be taken as the expression of most people’s feelings about it. Times, 2 May.—“We have been favoured with a sight of one of the new stamp covers, and we must say we never beheld anything more ludicrous than the figures or allegorical device by which it is marked with its official character—why not add embellished? Cruickshank could scarcely produce anything so laughable. It is, apparently, a spirited attempt to imitate the hieroglyphic which formed one of the ornaments to Moore’s Almanack; Britannia is seated in the centre, with the lion couchant (Whiggish) at her feet; her arms are extended, scattering little flying children to some elephants on the left; and, on the right, to a group of gentlemen, some of whom, at all events, are not enclosed in envelopes, writing on their knees, evidently on account of a paucity of tables. There are, besides, sundry figures, who, if they were to appear in the streets of London, or any of our highways, would be liable to the penalties of the Vagrant Act for indecent exposure. Under the tableland by which these figures are supported, some evidence of a laudable curiosity is depicted, by three or four ladies, who are represented reading a billet doux, or valentine, and some little boys, evidently learning to spell, by the mental exertion which their anxious faces disclose. One serious omission we must notice. Why have those Mercuries in red jackets, who traverse London and its environs on lame ponies, been omitted? We must admit that, as they have been, recently, better mounted, that is one reason why they should not appear in this Government picture.”
But the reader can judge how far this description is borne out. Mulready envelope As a matter of fact, it was so universally disapproved of by the public, and was the object of so much ridicule, as to necessitate the destruction of nearly all the vast number prepared for issue. To do this, a machine had to be specially constructed; the attempt to do the work by fire, in close stoves (fear of robbery forbade the use of open ones), having absolutely failed. They are now somewhat scarce, but are extensively forged. It was satirized and laughed at by all, and a contemporary criticism, which has been reproduced in The Philatelist, vol. vii., p. 145, is very amusing: “Britannia is sending her messengers forth
To the East, to the West, to the South, to the North:
At her feet is a lion wot’s taking a nap,
And a dish-cover rests on her legs and her lap.
To the left is a Mussulman writing a letter,
His knees form a desk, for the want of a better;
Another believer’s apparently trying
To help him in telling the truth, or in lying.
Two slaves ’neath their burden seem ready to sink,
But a sly-looking elephant ‘tips us the wink’;
His brother behind, a most corpulent beast,
Just exhibits his face, like the moon in a mist.
On each is a gentleman riding astraddle,
With neat Turkey carpets in lieu of a saddle;
The camels, behind, seem disposed for a lark,
The taller’s a well-whisker’d, fierce-looking shark.
An Arab, arrayed with a coal-heaver’s hat,
With a friend from the desert is holding a chat;
The picture’s completed by well-tailed Chinese
A-purchasing opium, and selling of teas.
The minister’s navy is seen in the rear—
They long turned their backs on the service—’tis clear
That they now would declare, in their typical way,
That Britannia it is who has done it, not they.
A reindeer and Laplander cutting through snow,
The rate of their progress (down hill) seems to show.
To the right, is the King of the Cannibal Islands,
In the same pantaloons that they wear in the Highlands
Some squaws by his side, with their infantile varments,
And a friend, in the front, who’s forgotten his garments.
Frost, Williams and Jones [132] have this moment been hook
And are fixing the day they would choose to be cook’d.
There a planter is giving and watching the tasks
Of two worthy niggers, at work on two casks.
Below, to the left, as designed by Mulready,
Is sorrow’s effect on a very fat lady;
While joy at good news may be plainly descried,
In the trio engaged on the opposite side.”
Left—Lord Monteagle and Mr. Baring, Britannia, Lord Palmerston. Right—O’Connell and the Duke of Wellington There were very many pictorial satires on this unfortunate wrapper, but none bore so near a resemblance to it as the accompanying illustration by John Doyle (H.B. Sketches, 26 May, 1840, No. 639). Lord Palmerston, as Britannia, is dispatching Mercuries with fire and sword, to the east, typical of the wars in Egypt and China. On the other hand, he sends a flight of Cupids to Father Mathew, the apostle of Temperance, who was then doing such good work in Ireland, whilst a man is knocking the bung out of a whisky barrel. Beneath this group is O’Connell, who is roaring out “Hurrah for Repeal!” to the horror of the Duke of Wellington, who is behind him. On the left is Lord Monteagle, late Chancellor of the Exchequer, ill in bed; whilst his successor, Mr. Baring, reads to him the result of his policy: “Post Office deliveries in the quarter, £272,000! Total deficiency in the year, to be made up by new taxation, £2,000,000!” On 7 May, the Gresham Committee met to decide on the two plans for the New Royal Exchange, one prepared by Mr. Cockerell, R.A., and the other by Mr. Tite, President of the Architectural Society, which was in favour of the latter by 13 votes to 7. The works were immediately proceeded with. Talking of one fire seems to lead on to another, for on 20 May, York Minster was for the second time visited with a conflagration—this time, however, it was caused accidentally, and not the work of an incendiary. The following extract from a letter dated York, 21 May, gives a graphic account of the fire, and is of especial interest, as being from the pen of a spectator. “You may hear the rumour of the alarming and truly awful calamity that has occurred in this city, before you receive this. I have witnessed it, and shall hold the recollection as long as my memory exists. About 20 minutes to 9 last evening, I was told the Minster was on fire. I ran out, immediately, towards it, and stood by it, just as the flames had issued from the top part of the south-west tower, at a height that an engine could not have played upon. The fire continued to rage until it had entire possession of the upper part; flames issuing from every window, and piercing the roof. To describe the feelings under which I witnessed the devouring flames preying upon a national monument, which every man must look upon with admiration, requires a pen more descriptive than mine. Grief, awe, wonder and admiration were the emotions with which I regarded the destruction of this venerable church. I soon obtained admission into the nave of the Cathedral, and observed the first falling down of the burnt embers. The flames illumined the interior with more than mid-day brightness; the light, pouring through the crevices, threw a brilliancy over the scene which imagination cannot paint. The fire, at this time, was wholly confined to the tower. “After the space of half an hour, the flooring of the belfry in the tower began to be forced by the falling bells and lighted beams. At this period, my nerves were strung to the highest excitement. The noise was extraordinary. The shouting of the firemen, the roaring of the flames rushing up the tower with the rapidity of a furnace draught, sounded in the high and arched space, awful and terrific. The falling masses of wood, and bells, sounded like the near discharge of artillery, and were echoed back from the dark passages, whose glomy shade, and hollow responses seemed mourning at the funeral pile that burned so fiercely. In one hour, the tower was completely gutted, and masses of burning timber lay piled against the south-west door. The upper and under roof, composed principally of fir timber, covering the nave, as far as the centre tower, had, by this time, become fired, and burned with extraordinary rapidity. The firemen, by a well-managed direction of the water, prevented the flames passing through the west windows of the centre tower, and continued their exertions at that spot, until the whole of the roof had fallen in, and lay, in the centre of the aisle, a sea of fire. “The west doors had, now, become nearly burnt through, and planks were brought to barricade them, and prevent the rushing of air to fan the embers to flame, which might have communicated to the organ, and thence, throughout the whole pile of buildings. “At 1 o’clock, this morning, I again entered the Cathedral, and then concluded there was no further danger of destruction. The tower is standing, also the walls and pillars of the nave; and, beyond that, the building, I am happy to state, is saved. “The fire is supposed to have originated from a clock maker, who has been, for some time past, occupied in repairing the clock in that tower, who might accidentally, have dropped a spark from a candle.”
The repairs in 1829, when the Cathedral was fired by the fanatic, John Martin, cost £65,000, which was raised by subscription, and it was estimated that the cost of the present repairs would amount to about £20,000. I know of no other general topic of conversation in May, but, in June, there was one which set every one in the United Kingdom, and the whole civilized world, a talking.—The Queen had been Shot at!!! A little after 6 p.m. the Queen and Prince Albert left Buckingham Palace for their before-dinner drive, and had barely got one-third up Constitution Hill, when a young man, who had been walking backwards and forwards, as the carriage came near, and was nearly opposite him, turned round, and, drawing a pistol from his breast, fired at the carriage, which, however, went on its way. The man then looked back, to see whether any person was standing near enough to prevent him, and drew another pistol, which he discharged at the carriage. Prince Albert ordered the postillions to drive on, and they went as far as Hyde Park Corner, and thence to the Duchess of Kent’s mansion in Belgrave Square, and, after staying there some little time, drove to Buckingham Palace, where the Queen was received by crowds of her subjects, cheering vociferously. To say that she was not affected by the incident would not be true, but she soon recovered from its effects. The person who shot at her was a little undersized boy (5ft. 4in.), about 18, named Edward Oxford, a publican’s barman, out of work, and as “Satan finds work for idle hands to do,” this boy must needs buy two pistols, bullets, powder and caps, and begin practising shooting. Whatever made it enter into his wicked little head to shoot at the Queen, no one knew, but he did, and was speedily in the hands of the police. He was examined and re-examined, and finally tried at the Central Criminal Court on 9 July, the trial lasting two days. The defence was the plea of insanity, and, as no bullets could be found, the jury brought in a verdict of “Guilty, he being, at the time, insane”; and, in accordance with such verdict, the judge sentenced him to be imprisoned during Her Majesty’s pleasure. On the day after being shot at, the Queen and Prince Albert took their wonted drive in the Park, amidst the shouts of crowded thousands, and the next day, she, in State, received the congratulations of the Houses of Lords and Commons, the latter having the first audience. At two o’clock, the state carriage of the Speaker entered the court, followed by 109 carriages filled with members of the House of Commons; never before, it was said, was the Speaker followed by so numerous a cortÈge, on the occasion of presenting an address. As soon as the carriages of the Commons had left the court, the procession of the Lords began to enter, the barons first, then the other peers, rising in rank to the royal dukes. They wore all their stars and garters, and made a brave show. We get a glimpse of Oxford in prison in a paragraph of the Times, 28 Feb., 1843, copied from a Sunday paper. “As numberless strange and conflicting rumours have been propagated, relative to the treatment experienced by Edward Oxford, in his place of incarceration, the curiosity of the visitor on this head was, naturally, great, especially as it is generally understood that those who are favoured with permission to visit Bethlehem, are not allowed to see Oxford. This is not, however, the fact. In a compartment of the establishment, principally allotted to those who are supposed to have committed heinous crimes in moments of madness, Edward Oxford is confined. He is not separated from the other unfortunate persons who reside in that division of the building, but is allowed free intercourse with them. Among his comrades are Mr. Pierce, surgeon, who shot his wife whilst labouring under a paroxysm of madness produced by jealousy; and Captain Good, whose favourite phantasy is the assumption of the attribute of Majesty. There is, in the same division of the establishment, a very diminutive man, who imagines himself to be Lord John Russell. He amuses himself, nearly all day long, with knitting. Captain Good is fond of smoking, and Pierce hovers over the fireplace (a stove) all day. Oxford diverts himself with drawing and reading. He told the visitor, who furnished us with this account, that he had taught himself to read French with ease, during his incarceration, but that he was unable to speak the language, for want of an opportunity of studying the pronunciation. He said that he was terribly tired of his sojourn at Bethlehem, and that he wished he could obtain his liberty, even though he should be placed under surveillance during the remainder of his life. The visitor remarked that there was no such thing as surveillance de police in England. To which Oxford replied that he was perfectly acquainted with that fact; and that the condition upon which he thus desired his liberty, was rather an imaginary one, than a strictly legal and feasible one. Upon another question being put to him, he said he knew he had been placed in Bethlehem under an impression that he was mad, but that he was, really, very far from being mad. He exhibited some of his drawings, which were uncommonly well executed, and evinced a natural talent for the art. There were a view of Abbotsford, a horse’s head, a portrait of the Virgin Mary, and one or two other designs, which were, really, most tastefully sketched and shaded. He appeared pleased when complimented on his proficiency in the art of drawing, and observed that he was self-taught. In manners, he is modest, civil and unassuming, and certainly exhibits not the slightest symptom of insanity. We know that medical jurisprudence admits that it is very difficult to determine the exact line of demarcation where sound sense stops, and insanity commences; but he, who has visited a receptacle for the insane, will speedily observe the strange state and appearance of the eyes of those whose intellects are unhinged. This appearance cannot be mistaken either in lucid or rabid intervals; it is still perceptible, although, of course, in a greater or lesser degree. Now, the visitor to Bethlehem, on the occasion here refered to, particularly observed the eyes of all the inmates; and those of one only showed not the least—not the most remote symptoms of insanity. This one individual was Edward Oxford. He appears in his conversation, his manners, his countenance and his pursuits, as sane, collected, and intelligent as possible. Of course, the deed for which he is now in durance was not touched upon; nor was any information relative to that subject sought of the turnkeys, or keepers. With respect to food, Oxford is not treated one atom better than his fellow sufferers; the diet of the inmates of the hospital is plentiful and good, but no favour is shown to any particular individual, with regard either to quality, or quantity. Oxford appears to enjoy very excellent health; and he is remarkably clean and neat in his person.”
He was, afterwards, removed to Broadmoor, and I have been told, although I cannot vouch for the fact, that he was liberated some years ago, and sent to Australia. Early in July, we begin to hear of a higher style of farming than that previously in use, as we find the Dumfries Courier advocating the use of nitrate of soda as a manure, but, yet, are cautious on the subject.—“An extensive trial of it will be necessary before any proper judgment can be pronounced. It is, as yet, unknown whether its effects are lasting, and until this is ascertained, caution must be used.” Another thing, too, was just beginning to attract attention—Electro-metallurgy. True it is that Wollaston applied the principle of the Voltaic pile to the deposition of one metal upon another in 1801, and it was further developed by Bessemer (1834), Jacobi and the Elkingtons in 1838, and Spencer in 1839, but for practical utility it was still in its infancy, and we can see how far it had advanced, in the following extract from a German Paper: “Munich, 22 July, 1840.—Much is at present said in the public papers respecting the imitations of medals, reliefs, etc., by means of a galvanic deposition of copper. This art, called Galvano plastic, first discovered by Professor Jacobi of St. Petersburg, and brought to greater perfection by Mr. Spencer, of Liverpool, and by Professor Von Kebel, of Munich, may justly be classed as one of the most useful of modern inventions; and, from its great importance, its employment in technical operations must soon become general. Indeed, some persons in England, perceiving the great influence which this invention is destined to have on manufacturing industry, are already applying it to the production of buttons, arabesques, and various ornaments in Copper. Herr G. A. Muller, mechanician of Leipsic, has recently called attention to the application of Galvano plastic to typography. He has, however, been, in some measure, anticipated by the experiments made in 1839, in Rosel’s printing office, in Munich; where, by following the methods of Jacobi and Spencer, the lines of copperplate were produced in relief. Wood cuts were, also, converted into metallic plates, which, to say nothing of the advantage of the solidity of the metal, far exceeded the effect of the most perfect casting. The experiments for making stereotype plates in copper have, also, been successful. In short, the invention has now reached that stage which must secure for it the attention of all practical men.” Mulready’s postal wrapper having been killed by universal derision: in July was produced an envelope with an embossed head of the Queen thereon, and these could be bought until the close of her reign. Prince Louis Napoleon, previously to his ill-starred expedition to Boulogne, had left instructions for his furniture and jewellery to be sold; and sold they accordingly were by Christie and Manson on 21 Aug., and Mr. Bernal and other virtuosi went to the sale to see what Napoleonic relics they could pick up. Among these were two silver cups, with the eagle and initial of Queen Hortense, £5 10/- and a casket of camei, formerly the property of the Empress Josephine, was divided into 22 lots, one of which was a pair of earrings, the gift of Pius VI. to Josephine during the first campaign in Italy, in 1796, sold for £46 4/-, and the original marble bust of Napoleon, when Consul, dated 1804, by Canova, fetched £232 11/-. On 28 Aug. Prince Albert received the freedom of the City of London; and, on 11 Sep., he was made a Privy Councillor.
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