Bentley's Miscellany, Volume I

by Various

Of the last-mentioned individuals, some few, from their own interests being affected by the matter under inquiry, went to the house frequently enough to get in some degree acquainted with the writers; and among them was one gentleman who usually took his place on the back seat, though he was always ready to resign it to those who, as they went there for business, and not for pleasure, considered that they had a right to claim it as their own. There was something singular in this person's manner; and the eagerness with which he surveyed the members, by means of an opera-glass, often excited the mirth of his waggish neighbours. He asked many questions, but timed them so well, and always deported himself with so much respectful good-humour, that any information he desired was readily given.

One fine summer's afternoon I and some other tired visitors to the House availed ourselves of the leisure which the sitting of the committee afforded, to enjoy a walk on the banks of the river. On our return, near Milbank, a person who had some knowledge of us inquired if we had heard that a duel had taken place between the Earl of Liverpool and Mr. Perceval, in which the latter had fallen. We laughed at the improbability of the story, but were seriously assured that we should find it true. Still incredulous, we said we would soon ascertain the fact, and accordingly advanced to Palace Yard. There the closed gates, the crowd assembled outside, and the information communicated by a thousand tongues, soon placed it beyond all doubt that the minister was no more, having within the last hour been shot, not by his noble colleague, but by a stranger named Bellingham.

Mr. Perceval was in the habit of coming down to the House about five o'clock. On this day it was a quarter past that hour, when, as he entered the lobby, he was shot through the heart. He staggered a few paces, fell against one of the pillars, and almost immediately expired. The assassin was instantly seized and taken to the bar of the House, where a crowd of persons, members and strangers mixed in extreme confusion, assembled round him; and as soon as an attempt at restoring order could be made, the Speaker directed Mr. Whitbread and other members to precede and follow the prisoner to a place of safe custody. This was done, and these facts were generally known to the multitude, which now beset all the avenue leading to the two Houses.

From mouth to mouth the mournful tidings flew with unexampled rapidity. The very prominent situation in which Mr. Perceval stood, the active and important business he was daily seen engaged in, made men almost seem to doubt if it were possible that such a career could so suddenly be closed for ever. The rumours sent forth had the same effect on every one they reached, I might almost say, that it has been shown they had on me and my companions. All who heard that the right honourable gentleman was dead, seemed to determine instantly to verify the fact by repairing to Westminster. It was about a quarter past five in the afternoon of the 11th of May that Mr. Perceval was shot in the lobby of the House, and, by six, countless thousands poured down the Strand and all the streets leading to Charing Cross. Second editions of the evening papers were got out with astonishing expedition; and, by the time I have mentioned, one had been carried so far towards Westminster as the end of Parliament-street, opposite Downing-street. The extreme eagerness of every one to know all that could be known, I remember, instantly got a crowd round the bearer of it. Ownership and ceremony were not thought of: every one who could get hold of the much-coveted broad sheet, considered that he had a right to it. I, among a host of intruders, saw there, in the manner described, the first connected detail of the catastrophe.

As the night closed in, the crowd became immense, and some discreditable exultation was expressed by the lowest of the mob; but the general feeling created was that of humane commiseration and unmitigated horror.

Admiring the great talents of Mr. Perceval as I did, and impressed with a conviction that he was most amiable in private life, my own sorrow was great; and I rejoiced at the thought that the murderer was in safe custody, and would possibly, (as the sessions were about to commence,) before a single week should have elapsed, suffer the last penalty of the law.

Never shall I forget the spectacle which the House of Commons presented on the following day. Those who have been in the habit of going there, must have noticed with some annoyance the ceaseless murmur which prevails for the first hour, or hour and a half, after the Speaker has taken the chair, while private bills and petitions of little interest, are being disposed of, and papers presented at the bar. The monotonous repetition by the Speaker of the words, "So many as are of that opinion say 'aye,' those who are of a contrary opinion say 'no;' the ayes have it," on putting questions which are unopposed,—the ceaseless slamming of doors,—the creaking of shoes of some of those members who seem to delight in displaying their elegance by marching, or I might almost say by skating, up and down the body of the House, as if to let their friends, the strangers in and under the gallery, see how very grand it is possible for them to look,—and the frequent cry of "Order! order!" "Bar! bar!" from the Chair, given forth, as was then the case, with full-toned dignity of Mr. Speaker Abbot (the late Lord Colchester), altogether gave the idea of a careless, irregular assembly,—of anything but a place where the most important business of a great nation was to be transacted. Such was its usual aspect in those days; but on the 12th of May 1812, most widely different I found the scene. The attendance was unusually full, but solemn funereal stillness marked the approach of each member to assist in the proceedings growing out of the recent and melancholy fate of the minister.

"How silent did his old companions tread"

on that floor over which they had so long been accustomed to pass with him whose fall they now lamented! Party feeling was annihilated; all mourned, and many wept, for the deceased, as if he had been their nearest, dearest friend or relative. A place on the ministerial bench was pointed at from the gallery as that which Mr. Perceval had been used to fill. I am not aware, though he generally sat nearly in the same place, that any precise spot was particularly reserved for him; and on the occasion which it is my object to recall, certainly no such theatrical effort at effect was made. The vacant seat was soon occupied by one of the late right honourable gentleman's colleagues.

Not only was there the abstinence from conversation, which I have noted, but action—the common ordinary motions of gentlemen meeting in assembly were suspended. The benches were filled with unwonted regularity; and their occupants, scarcely venturing on a whisper, and hardly changing their position, seemed almost like breathing statues, while they awaited with awful interest the announcement of what steps the government proposed to take, and what information had been obtained by them respecting the event which had deprived the administration of its chief.