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CHAPTER XVII

Foundation of Royal Exchange laid – Medal connected therewith – Father Mathew’s miracle – Christening of the Prince of Wales – King Edward VII. – Hard work of the King of Prussia – The Earthquake in London – The Queen drinking “grog” – Photography-Talbotype – Sale at Strawberry Hill – Presents to the King of Prussia.

The first event of note in this year was the laying, by Prince Albert, of the foundation stone of the Royal Exchange, on 17 Jan., with all the pomp at the command of the City authorities. The usual coins, etc., were deposited in a cavity, together with a Latin inscription, engraved on zinc, of which the following is a translation: “Sir Thomas Gresham, Knight, erected, at his own charge, a building and colonnade for the convenience of those persons who, in this renowned Mart, might carry on the commerce of the World, adding thereto, for the relief of indigence, and for the advancement of literature and science, an Almshouse and College of Lecturers, the City of London aiding him, Queen Elizabeth favouring the design; and, when the work was complete, opening it in person with a solemn procession. Having been reduced to ashes with almost the entire city, by a calamitous and wide spreading conflagration, they were rebuilt in a more splendid form by the City of London and the Ancient Company of Mercers, King Charles II. commencing the building on 23 Oct., A.D. 1667; and, when they had been again destroyed by fire, on the 10th Jan., AD. 1838, the same Bodies, undertaking the work, determined to restore them at their own cost, on an enlarged and more ornamental plan; the munificence of Parliament providing the means of extending the site, and of widening the approaches and crooked streets, in every direction; in order that there might, at length, arise, under the auspices of Queen Victoria, built a third time from the ground, an Exchange, worthy of this great Nation and City, and suited to the vastness of a Commerce extending to the circumference of the habitable Globe. His Royal Highness of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, Consort of Her Sacred Majesty, laid the first stone on 17 Jan., 1842, in the Mayoralty of the Rt. Hon. John Pirie. Architect, William Tite, F.R.S. May God, our Preserver, ward off destruction from this building, and from the whole City.”

After the manner of the City of London, a medal was struck to commemorate the event, having on the obverse a profile portrait of Prince Albert, with the legend “Albertus ubique honoratus,” the reverse having a view of the western portico of the Exchange. On 13 Jan. Mr. Roach Smith exhibited at the Society of Antiquaries a medalet, found on the site of the Exchange, evidently struck to commemorate Queen Elizabeth’s patronage of the original building, as it bore the Tudor Arms surrounded with the inscription “Angliœ Regina ubique honorata.”

Father Mathew was still doing his grand work in Ireland, but there is a story told about him in the Limerick Chronicle, copied into the Times of 17 Jan., that is too good to be omitted: “The Rev. Mr. Mathew arrived in this city, last evening, by the Cork mail, en route to Loughrea, and put up at Moore’s hotel. Immediately after his arrival became known, hundreds of persons visited him at the hotel, where he administered the pledge. One circumstance which came within public observation, we may mention here, as illustrative of the effects of breaking the temperance pledge: – A man, named Moynehan, a teetotaller, who worked at the Butter Weigh-house, got drunk on Christmas Eve, and the next day, became paralysed, his left arm, side and thigh being perfectly inanimate. He was removed to Barrington’s Hospital, and remained there under the care of the surgeons, without improvement, until last evening, when his friends, having heard of Father Mathew’s arrival in town, went to the hospital, and brought him out of his bed, on a man’s back, to where the Rev. Mr. Mathew was staying; a crowd had collected round the door, when the unhappy invalid was carried into his presence, and the reverend gentleman administered to him the pledge again, in a kind and impressive manner, and the man instantly stood up, was assisted by his friends to dress; and, to the astonishment of all, walked up William Street to his home, followed by a crowd of people.”

On 25 Jan., the Prince of Wales was christened in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, by the name of Albert Edward, and on 20 Jan. appeared a letter in the Times from “A Conservative”:

“Sir. – We learn from the Times of to-day, that the Prince will be called Albert Edward.

“It is natural, indeed, that the illustrious father, and still more, that the illustrious mother, should prefer Albert Edward to Edward Albert.

“But as I pray God that the boy may live to be King, to whatever period his mother’s life may be graciously extended, so I trust that he may have every qualification for popularity as well as goodness, and, amongst others, an old, and beloved, and accustomed English name.

“And what so fit as Edward? Who more beloved, or glorious, than Edward the Confessor – Edward I. – Edward III. – Edward VI.? A Catholic Saint – a law-giver – a conqueror – a Protestant Reformer?

“The Princess Alexandrina Victoria was known by her second name before she ascended the throne. So, I trust, may the young Prince be known as Edward, Prince of Wales, to the people, hereafter, Edward VII.”

We all know how this gentleman’s aspirations have been verified.

The King of Prussia was one of the Sponsors, and spent a few days after the christening in England. Poor man! how they did make him work!

On the 26th he had to be at the presentation of new colours to the 72nd Highlanders, and, in the afternoon, he visited Eton College.

27th. – Came to London by railway, and held a Court at Buckingham Palace, where he received the Corps Diplomatique and the Corporation of the City of London. On his return to Windsor, he visited Hampton Court.

28th. – Again came to London, visited the Zoological Gardens, lunched with Sir Robert Peel, and, afterwards, went to the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, and the National Gallery – dining at Windsor.

29th. – Saw a review in the Home Park, then went to London, and dined with his Minister, Chevalier Bunsen, in Carlton Terrace.

The 30th was Sunday, so the poor man was trotted off to St. Paul’s Cathedral to hear the Bishop of London preach. Lunched at the Mansion House, visited the King of Hanover’s apartments in St. James’s Palace, and Stafford House; attended afternoon service at the Royal German Chapel, St. James’s; visited the Duchess of Gloucester, in Piccadilly, and returned to Windsor.

After this rest on the 30th, he visited Newgate Prison, when he was received by the Lady Mayoress, Mrs. Fry, the Quaker philanthropist, the Sheriffs, etc., and thence proceeded to lunch with Mrs. Fry, at Upton, near Barking; at six he went to Drury Lane Theatre, and saw The Two Gentlemen of Verona; dined with the Duke of Sutherland at Stafford House, and slept at Buckingham Palace.

Next day, 1 Feb., at 10 a.m., he visited the Royal Society, Society of Antiquaries and the Geological Society. Thence he went to the British Museum, taking Mr. Solly’s collection of pictures en route; and after spending three hours at the Museum, he lunched with the Duke of Sussex at Kensington Palace. In the evening, he underwent a dinner and concert given by the Duke of Wellington at Apsley House.

Early in the morning of the 2nd, he sat to Mr. Hayter for his portrait in a picture of the Christening. At 8.30 he embarked at Hungerford Wharf, on a steamer, bound for the Thames Tunnel; after visiting which, he went to the Tower of London. At 12 he returned to Buckingham Palace, where he received addresses from the Bishop and Clergy of the Diocese of London; the members of King’s College, London; the Society for Promoting Christianity among the Jews; the Prussian subjects resident in London; and the German Lutheran clergy. He also received deputations from the Bible Society, the Church Missionary Society, the Imperial Continental Gas Company; and gave audience to the Prince of Capua, etc.; visited the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth; dined with the Duke of Cambridge; saw the Merry Wives of Windsor played at Covent Garden, and afterwards attended an evening, party at Cambridge House.

On the 3rd he was present at the Queen’s Opening of Parliament, then received a deputation from the general body of Protestant Dissenters; and visited the Queen Dowager, Earl of Jersey, the Dowager Duchess of Richmond, the Duke of Cambridge and the Duke of Wellington; winding up with dining with the Queen.

On the 4th they let him go – he paid a visit to the Queen at 9.30, went to Woolwich and saw a review of Royal Artillery, lunched there, visited Plumstead Marshes and the Arsenal, took leave of Prince Albert, and everyone else, and went off to Ostend.

About this time was a curious craze, which took strange hold on the people, that London was to be destroyed on the 16th of March, a belief which seems to have been founded on two metrical prophecies, dated respectively A.D. 1203 and 1598, said to be in the British Museum, where, however, I have failed to find them; the former is:

 
“In eighteen hundred and forty-two
Four things the sun shall view;
London’s rich and famous town
Hungry earth shall swallow down;
Storm and rain in France shall be,
Till every river runs a sea;
Spain shall be rent in twain,
And famine waste the land again;
So say I, the Monk of Dree,
In the twelve hundredth year and three.”
 

The other is fathered on the famous astrologer, Dr. Dee:

 
“The Lord have mercy on you all,
Prepare yourselves for dreadful fall
Of house and land and human soul —
The measure of your sin is full.
 
 
“In the year One, Eight, and Forty-two,
Of the year that is so new,
In the third month, of that sixteen,
It may be a day or two between.
 
 
“Perhaps you’ll soon be stiff and cold,
Dear Christian, be not stout and bold;
The mighty Kingly proud will see
This comes to pass, as my name’s Dee.”
 

And people were found to believe in this doggerel – especially frightened were the Irish in London, and the lower classes generally. There was a great exodus of the former, some even listening to the entreaties of their friends, and returning to Ireland, and many of the latter moved eastward of the church of St. Dunstan’s, Stepney, which they considered would be the last edifice to fall. Nor was belief in the earthquake confined to the east end of London, for I read of a man, formerly a police constable, living in Paddington, St. Marylebone, who sold a good business to provide the means of his leaving London; and of a clerk, with a salary of £200 a year, residing in the same parish, resigning his post, so that he might escape the calamity.

The fateful day arrived and passed, and, of course, the dreaded event did not take place, but the belief in it is evidenced in a paragraph in the Times of 17 March:

“The Earthquake. – The scene witnessed in the neighbourhoods of St. Giles’s and Seven Dials during the whole of yesterday was, perhaps, the most singular that has presented itself for many years. Many of the Irish resident in those localities have left for the shores of the Emerald Isle, but by far the larger number, unblessed with this world’s goods, have been compelled to remain where they are, and to anticipate the fearful event which was to engulf them in the bowels of the earth. The frantic cries, the incessant appeals to Heaven for deliverance, the invocations to the Virgin and the Saints for mediation, the heartrending supplications for assistance, heard on every side during the day, sufficiently evidenced the power with which this popular delusion had seized the mind of these superstitious people. Towards the end of the day, a large number of them determined not to remain in London during the night, and, with what few things they possessed, took their departure for what they considered more favoured spots. Some violent contests arose between the believers and the sceptics – contests, which in not a few cases, were productive of serious results.

“The poor Irish, however, are not the only persons who have been credulous in this matter; many persons from whom better things might have been expected, were amongst the number who left London to avoid the threatened catastrophe. To the Gravesend steamboat companies the ‘earthquake’ proved a source of immense gain; and the same may be said with regard to the different railways. Long before the hour appointed for the starting of steamboats from London Bridge Wharf, Hungerford Market, and other places, the shore was thronged by crowds of decently attired people of both sexes; and, in many instances, whole families were to be seen with an amount of eatables and drinkables which would have led one to suppose that they were going a six-weeks’ voyage. About 11 o’clock, the Planet came alongside the London Bridge Wharf, and the rush to get on board of her was tremendous, and, in a few minutes, there was scarcely standing room on board. The trains on the various railways were, during the whole of Tuesday and yesterday morning, unusually busy in conveying passengers without the proscribed limits of the Metropolitan disaster. To those who had not the means of taking trips to Gravesend, or by railway, other places which were supposed to be exempted from the influence of the ‘rude commotion’ about to take place, were resorted to. From an early hour in the morning, the humbler classes from the east end of the Metropolis sought refuge in the fields beyond the purlieus of Stepney. On the north, Hampstead and Highgate were favoured with a visit from large bodies of the respectable inhabitants of St. Giles’s; and Primrose Hill, also, was selected as a famous spot for viewing the demolition of the leviathan city. The darkness of the day, and the thickness of the atmosphere, however, prevented it being seen.”

Brighton, too, felt the advantage of the “earthquake,” as numbers of families of the middle and upper classes went there to avoid its consequences. It was noted that on the night of the 15th nearly 20 carriages arrived there, a circumstance that had not occurred since the opening of the London and Brighton Railway.

To “talk scandal about Queen Elizabeth” is a matter serious enough, but to say that Queen Victoria drank grog on board one of her own ships is rank treason, and must be explained, as it was by the John Bull. “The true version of Her Majesty’s tasting the grog on board of The Queen, during her late visit to Portsmouth, is as follows: Strict orders had been given to the men, that when Her Majesty came down to the lower deck, to see them at mess, they should not speak a word, but preserve as profound a silence as possible. Jack, of course, was too much taken up with watching the Royal visitor, to think of talking, save, perhaps, the desire of whispering to his messmate a comment or so on the meteor passing before him. All was still. Her Majesty tasted the cocoa, and approved of it – yet all was still. Her Majesty then inquired whether there was no stronger beverage allowed the men, and forthwith a tumbler of ‘three-water grog’ was handed her. She raised it to her lips – when Jack forgot his orders, and three distinct cheers ran round the deck, with such ‘a will,’ that the ship’s sides seemed to start with the sudden explosion; the honour done was more than a sailor could bear without clearing his heart with an huzzah.”

It was on 8 Feb., 1841, that Fox Talbot provisionally registered his patent “for improvements in obtaining pictures, or representations of objects,” which is now in vogue, his improvement being the printing of the photo on paper. He, himself, made no public practical use of his invention, and one of the first, if not the first photographer who adopted it was Mr. Beard, of Parliament and King William Streets. It was quite a new thing when Prince Albert went to his studio on 21 Mar., 1842, and sat for his portrait. This made the process fashionable, and henceforth photography was a practical success.

There is nothing much to gossip about, until the Strawberry Hill sale. It was all very well for the Earl of Bath to eulogise the place,

“Some cry up Gunnersbury,

For Sion some declare,

And some say that with Chiswick House

No villa can compare;

But, ask the beaux of Middlesex,

Who know the country well,

If Strawberry Hill, if Strawberry Hill

Don’t bear away the bell.”

but I fancy no one can endorse the opinion, or see anything to admire in this heterogeneous pile of Carpenter’s and Churchwarden’s Gothic. If it had applied to the contents that would have been another thing; for, although there was, as is the case in most large collections, an amount of rubbish, it was counterbalanced by the undoubted rarity of the greater portion, which are thus set forth by the perfervid auctioneer, George Robins, who, speaking of himself in the third person, says:

“When there pass before him, in review, the splendid gallery of paintings, teeming with the finest works of the greatest masters – matchless Enamels, of immortal bloom, by Petitot, Boit, Bordier, and Zincke; Chasings, the work of Cellini and Jean de Bologna; noble specimens of Faenza Ware, from the pencils of Robbia and Bernard Palizzi; Glass, of the rarest hues and tints, executed by Jean Cousin and other masters of the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries; Limoges enamels of the period of the Renaissance, by Leonard and Courtoise; Roman and Greek antiquities in bronze and sculpture; Oriental and European china, of the choicest forms and colours; exquisite and matchless Missals, painted by Raphael and Julio Clovo; magnificent specimens of Cinque-Cento Armour; Miniatures, illustrative of the most interesting periods of history; a valuable collection of Drawings and Manuscripts; Engravings in countless numbers, and of infinite value; a costly Library, extending to fifteen thousand volumes, abounding in splendid editions of the Classics, illustrated, scarce and unique works, with ten thousand other relics of the arts and history of bygone ages, he may well feel overpowered at the evident impossibility of rendering to each that lengthened notice which their merits and their value demand.”

The first private view took place on 28 March, and the sale lasted 24 days, commencing on 25 April and ending 21 May. No one can hazard a guess as to what such a collection would fetch now, the sum then obtained, £33,450 11s. 9d., being utterly inadequate according to modern ideas. The sale took place in a temporary shed, erected in the grounds, and on the first day of the sale, which was confined to books, there were not 200 persons present, and among them, not more than a dozen bidders.

By way of recognition to the King of Prussia for his being sponsor of the Prince of Wales, the Queen sent him some presents, which, if the Wurtzburg Gazette is to be credited, were of somewhat mixed description. 1. – A cradle with the figure of nurse holding an infant, representing the Prince of Wales, in her arms, all of pure gold. 2. – A pistol, which, when the trigger is pulled, opens and exhibits a completely furnished dressing-case. 3. – A gold mosaic snuff-box, upon which are seen allegorical souvenirs relating to the baptism of the Prince of Wales. 4. – Four boxes containing snuff. 5. – A dozen knives and forks of gold, except the blades of the knives, which are of Damascus steel, and the handles ornamented with a crown set in brilliants. 6. – A stone vase, containing the rarest Indian fruits. 7. – Two extraordinarily large legs of mutton.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Royal “Bal Costumé” – The Queen shot at by Francis and by Bean – Duke of Cambridge’s star – Chartism – Income Tax – Female Chartist Association – A gipsey trial – Closing of the Fleet prison – Married in a sheet – Enormous damages in a gambling case.

There was a great flutter of excitement over the Queen’s Fancy Dress Ball, which took place in the Throne Room of Buckingham Palace on 12th May. Its leading feature was the assembling and meeting of the two Courts of Anne of Bretagne (the Duchess of Cambridge) and Edward III. and Queen Phillipa (The Queen and Prince Albert).

A separate entrance to the Palace was set apart for the Court of Brittany, the Duchess of Cambridge assembling her Court in one of the lower rooms of the Palace, while the Queen and Prince Albert, surrounded by a numerous and brilliant circle, prepared to receive her Royal Highness in the Throne Room, which was altered so far, as to be made as much as possible to harmonise with the period. The throne was removed and another erected, copied from an authentic source, of the time of Edward III. It was lined (as well as the whole alcove in which it was placed) with purple velvet, having worked on it, in gold, the Crown of England, the Cross of St. George, and emblazoned shields with the Arms of England and France. The state chairs were as near those of the period as the archæology of the time could compass, and the throne was surrounded with Gothic tracery. At the back of the throne were emblazoned the Royal Arms of England in silver. Seated on this throne, the Queen and Prince Albert awaited the arrival of Anne of Bretagne, which, ushered in by heralds, took place at half-past ten.

The various characters then formed a procession divided into Quadrilles, the French, German, Spanish, Italian, Highland, Russian, Waverley and Crusaders Quadrilles, and marched into the Ball Room, where dancing at once commenced, the Queen and Prince Albert watching the scene, seated on a haut pas. At one o’clock, the Earl of Liverpool, the Lord Steward, conducted the Queen and Prince Albert to supper; and when they had finished the guests were attended to. After supper, the Queen danced a quadrille with Prince George of Cambridge, their vis-a-vis being the Duchess of Buccleugh and the Duke of Beaufort; then some reels were danced, and the Queen retired at half-past two.

This account would be strangely incomplete without some account of two or three of the principal dresses, to give an idea of the splendour of the show. The Queen’s petticoat was of red velvet, trimmed with ermine. The ground of the jacket was garter blue, with a large pattern of leaves woven in it, of gold, and ornamented with precious stones; hanging sleeves, lined with ermine. The mantle was of cloth of gold, worked in silver, and trimmed with gold lace and pearls, lined with ermine, and fastened in front with a broad gold band, worked in diamonds and other precious stones. Her shoes were red silk, worked with gold and diamonds.

The crown was a fac-simile of that worn by Queen Philippa, and was ornamented with diamonds and precious stones. Under the crown, descending to the sides of the face, was a network of red velvet and diamonds.

Prince Albert’s under dress, of a garter-blue ground, was worked in large gold flowers, lined with red silk. The collar and cuffs were ornamented with diamonds and precious stones. The cloak was of red velvet, trimmed with gold lace and pearls, and was fastened in front with a band of diamonds and different coloured precious stones, and was lined with ermine. His hose were of red silk, and he wore shoes of red velvet, embroidered with gold and satin. His crown was that of Edward III., ornamented with diamonds and precious stones. The sword-belt was of red velvet, studded with rosettes of gold and diamonds; the sword was richly ornamented with the rose, thistle, oak, and shamrock, in diamonds and precious stones, the cross, forming the handle, containing some very large emeralds.

The mantle of the Duchess of Cambridge, as Anne of Bretagne, was of crimson velvet, bordered with ermine, looped up at the sides, displaying the petticoat of cloth of silver, worked in silver and gold, fastened with diamond ornaments; the top was edged with two rows of large pearls, having between them a variety of ornaments, formed of sapphires, emeralds and diamonds; the lower row of pearls had beneath it a fringe of large diamonds, formed into drops. The stomacher had rows of large pearls, of very great value, mixed with diamonds. Extending from the stomacher to the bottom of the mantle were rosettes and other ornaments of diamonds, sapphires and emeralds, forming a broad band down the mantle. The ceinture was also composed of brilliants, emeralds and sapphires. The sleeves were fastened with diamonds and sapphires, and the necklace was of emeralds and brilliants.

The diadem was composed wholly of pearls and diamonds, except the fleur de lys by which it was surmounted, which was composed of emeralds and sapphires. The head-dress was decorated with two rows of large diamonds and one of pearls. The veil was of gold tulle.

The Duke of Beaufort having been selected by the Duchess of Cambridge to personate Louis XII., in the French Quadrille, of which Her Royal Highness was the leader, His Grace appeared in one of the most splendid dresses handed down by Monfaucon, in his Monarchie Francaise. The dress consisted of rich blue velvet, sumptuously embroidered in gold, with which were intermixed rubies, emeralds, pearls and other precious stones, with a large diamond star in the centre, and an opal, of priceless value, set with diamonds. The cloak was of cloth of gold, lined with white satin, and trimmed over with powdered ermine. The belt worn by the Noble Duke, on this occasion, was of crimson, richly studded with precious stones, and fastened in the centre by a large diamond buckle. Sword, a valuable specimen of the art of that period, the hilt being of gold, exquisitely chased; a crimson velvet hat with feathers, confined in the front by a costly jewel.

Space prevents my giving any more of the dresses, and I only notice that the Earl of Cardigan appeared in the French Quadrille, clad in armour, as Bayard, the “Chevalier sans reproche”!!!

As almost everyone’s dress was ablaze with diamonds and other jewels, it is pleasant to think, that very few losses were sustained, and those were, generally, of trifling value. The only loss of any moment was that sustained by Prince Albert, from the girdle of whose gorgeous dress, is supposed to have dropped a valuable brilliant of great size.

On 30 May, about half-past six in the evening, as the Queen was returning from her usual drive, and was close to Buckingham Palace, she was fired at by a young miscreant named John Francis, aged 20, described as a carpenter. He was at once seized, and examined by the Privy Council. The simplest account of the event was given at the boy’s trial by Col. Arbuthnot, one of the Queen’s equerries, whose testimony was as follows: “My general position is about five yards in the rear of Her Majesty. Before we left the Palace, I had received an intimation which induced me to ride as close to Her Majesty as I could; and Colonel Wylde, Prince Albert’s equerry, rode in the same position, on the other side. Between 6 and 7 o’clock, we were coming down Constitution Hill, when, about halfway down the Hill, I observed the prisoner; and, on the carriage reaching him, he took a pistol from his side, and fired it in the direction of the Queen. As quickly as I could, I pulled up my horse, and gave the prisoner into custody. The prisoner had, before this, caught my attention as appearing anxious to see Her Majesty. The Colonel went on to say that the utmost distance from the carriage, when Francis fired, was seven feet. The cortége had been going at the rate of eleven miles an hour; but the Colonel had given instructions at this spot, to go faster, and the postillions were driving at the rate of twelve or thirteen miles an hour. The Queen was sitting on the back seat of the carriage, on the side nearest to the prisoner. The pistol seemed to the witness to be pointed in the direct line of Her Majesty.”

On the news being communicated to the Houses of Parliament, they adjourned in confusion, as it was found impossible to carry on the public business whilst in that state of excitement. Next day both Houses voted congratulatory addresses, and the same were sent by every corporate body throughout the Kingdom. The Queen, who could not fail to be affected by this attempt upon her life, nevertheless attended the Opera the same evening, and met with a most enthusiastic reception.

Francis was tried, on the charge of High Treason, at the Central Criminal Court, on 17 June, and found guilty; there being no reasonable doubt but that the pistol was loaded with something more than gunpowder. His sentence was: “That you, John Francis, be taken from hence to the place from whence you came, that you be drawn from thence on a hurdle to the place of execution, and that you be hanged by the neck until you be dead: that your head be, afterwards, severed from your body, and that your body be divided into four quarters, to be disposed of in such manner as Her Majesty shall deem fit. And the Lord have mercy on your soul!”

This sentence was commuted to transportation for life, and on 6 July he left Newgate for Gosport, and he was sent to Norfolk Island by the first transport sailing thither.

This mania for shooting at the Queen was infectious. If Oxford had not been treated so leniently, there would have been no Francis; and if there had been no Francis, there would have been no Bean. This was another young miscreant, aged 18, deformed, and very short. It was on Sunday, 3 July, when the Queen was going from Buckingham Palace to the Chapel Royal, St. James’s, that, in the Mall, this boy was seen to present a pistol at the Queen. A young man named Dassett saw the act, and this is a resumé of his evidence at the trial on 25 Aug.: He said he saw the royal carriages coming along, and saw the prisoner come from the crowd, draw a pistol from his breast, and present it at the carriage, at arm’s length, and breast high; and then he heard the click of a pistol hammer upon the pan; but there was no explosion. He seized him, and, assisted by his brother, took him across the Mall, and gave him to Police Constable Hearn, who said “it did not amount to a charge.” Another policeman, likewise, refused to take the prisoner, who only asked to have his pistol back again. The pressure of the crowd was so great, that he was obliged to let Bean go; and, afterwards, the people said that witness himself had been shooting at the Queen, and a policeman took the pistol away from him.