WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.
After his union with that lady, George III. bought Buckingham House from the Duke of Buckingham, and called it “The Queen’s House.” The mansion was a red brick building, and was pulled down in George IV.’s reign, when the present palace was erected. Queen Charlotte cleared the Court of immorality, but the Royal couple led too secluded a life to influence a wide circle. Society voted Court life insufferably dull and prosaic. When in London, it was the King’s habit to ride or drive daily in Hyde Park. He used a chariot and four when driving, but his favourite amusement was to trot off for an early morning ride free of ceremony.
Homely as the King appeared on these occasions, there was a still more homely figure to be seen in Hyde Park, and yet on all sides people tendered him homage more spontaneously and more whole-heartedly than to their monarch. This was William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, ambling along on his little Welsh pony. He loved the Park, and went there day by day, and he it was who first pleaded for the “open spaces” of London.
In the year of George III.’s accession, Society was entranced and horrified by the tragedy which brought Earl Ferrers to the scaffold. As this was largely a social event it may not be out of place to describe it here, apart from the story of those of meaner birth who ended their days at Tyburn. Earl Ferrers was a man of such violent and uncontrollable temper that his wife and children had left him, and the Courts had appointed a receiver for his property. The choice had fallen on an old servant of the family named Johnson, the land-steward, on the recommendation of Lord Ferrers himself, who doubtless expected to find in him a pliable tool.
The murder took place on a Sunday afternoon. Earl Ferrers sent for Johnson, who was an old man, to come to his room, and meantime had despatched the servants of the household on various duties so that none should be within earshot. After some minutes of quiet conversation he produced a paper, and demanded of Johnson that he should sign it. The steward refused.
Earl Ferrers walked to the door, which he locked, and going to a table took up a loaded pistol. He then ordered Johnson to kneel. The old man dropped on one knee. The earl insisted that he should fall on both knees. As soon as he had adopted this posture Earl Ferrers shot him through the body. He then loaded the pistol again, as if to fire a second shot, but suddenly turned from his purpose, and, unlocking the door, called a servant.
When assistance arrived Earl Ferrers was quite calm and collected. He had lifted his victim, who had fallen on the floor mortally wounded, into a chair, and was doing his utmost to stay the flow of blood. The earl directed that a surgeon should be hastily summoned, and meantime himself remained tending the dying man. He seems, in fact, to have done everything that was possible. Johnson survived for nine hours, and told the story.
Ferrers was brought up to London, “dressed as a jockey” driving in his own coach and six. Horace Walpole wrote: “Lord Ferrers is in the Tower; so you see the good-natured people of England will not want their favourite amusement, executions.” (See Illustration, [page 1]).
“Their favourite amusement, executions,” means much from a man like Horace Walpole. He was no newspaper-sensation writer, yet he deliberately noted the fact that the favourite amusement of London was to assist at a public execution. Thank Heaven we are less depraved to-day.