The Observer for March 5th, 1820, published some illustrations of the Cato Street Conspiracy. One is an exterior view of the stable in Cato Street where the conspirators met, which is copied on the opposite page.
| SECTION OF GRENADE PREPARED BY THE CATO STREET CONSPIRATORS. FROM THE ‘OBSERVER,’ MARCH 5TH, 1820. |
| A. Cylindrical tin Box containing gunpowder. B. Pitched tow. C. Bullets, old nails, Spikes, &c. D. Tin Tube a Fuze filled with damp powder. |
There was also an interior view of the hayloft, together with sections of some of the grenades, daggers, &c., large quantities of which were found in the loft.
These cuts, which are roughly done, were reprinted in the Observer for March 12th, and two new ones were added, ‘Interior view of the Hayloft at the moment when Smithers received his Death Wound,’ and a view of the interior of the stable. They are all interesting as examples of illustrated news at a time when the means of producing such things were extremely limited.
| DAGGER PREPARED BY THE CATO STREET CONSPIRATORS. FROM THE ‘OBSERVER,’ MARCH 5TH, 1820. |
| A. Dagger made out of a bayonet to use singly or on top of a pike handle. B. Dagger with hole in the middle to receive dagger A. when screwed on, to be used right and left. C. Section of the transverse dagger B. |
Mr. Clement, the proprietor of the Observer, gave a remarkable proof of his enterprising spirit when the Cato Street conspirators were tried. At that time newspapers were prohibited under a penalty of 500l. from publishing reports of cases in the courts of law before they were concluded. Mr. Clement, seeing the universal interest excited by the trial, determined to publish a report without waiting for the verdict. He accordingly sent reporters to the court, and published the whole in the Observer before the verdict was given. This was a contempt of court for which he expected to have to pay, and, though the penalty was duly inflicted, it was never exacted. The éclat attending this proceeding was of immense value to the Observer, and the sale of that number was so great that the proprietor could easily have paid the penalty of 500l., and he would still have been a gainer.[3]
The Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.), whose unhappy marriage with Caroline of Brunswick produced so much scandal and excitement in this country, had long been separated from his wife, who was residing abroad at the time her husband became King. Her Majesty announced her intention of returning to England; and though the King’s Ministers endeavoured to dissuade her from her purpose, she persisted in her resolution, and on June 6th, 1820, she landed at Dover. Her journey through London was one long triumph, thousands of people escorting her to her temporary residence, and giving her the warmest possible welcome, for they looked upon her as an ill-used and persecuted woman. The question of omitting her name from the Liturgy had been debated in Parliament, and afterwards a ‘Bill of Pains and Penalties’ was brought in, which was in effect placing the Queen upon her trial. Contemporary newspapers show what intense excitement filled the public mind upon this subject, and how the nation ranged itself on the side of the King or Queen—by far the greater number being for the latter. Nothing was talked of but the ‘Queen’s trial,’ and the wrongs and indignities that had been heaped upon the head of an innocent woman.
On Aug. 16th, the married ladies of the metropolis presented Her Majesty with an address, and three days after the trial commenced, the defence being conducted by Mr. Brougham and Mr. Denman. When the Queen attended the House of Lords large crowds accompanied her through the streets, and manifested by their cries their sympathy for her cause. The Bill of Pains and Penalties was carried on a second reading by a majority of twenty-eight, but it sank on the third reading to a majority of nine, and was finally abandoned owing to the threatening attitude of the populace. Great rejoicings ensued, London was illuminated for three nights, and on Nov. 29th the Queen went in state to St. Paul’s. On this occasion William Hone, who had distinguished himself as one of the Queen’s champions, displayed a transparency at his house on Ludgate Hill, which was painted by George Cruikshank, and is engraved in Hone’s collected pamphlets.