The forgotten PM: Spencer Perceval

This article is from the May 2011 issue of Total Politics

Very few prime ministers leave office at a time of their choosing. Even those who plan their departure might have the matter taken out of their hands by ill health. Even so, the first 30 years of the 19th century were unusual in that three prime ministers died in office and the health of two others forced them to resign. William Pitt and George Canning died in 1806 and 1827, while Lord Liverpool (also in 1827) and the Duke of Portland (in 1809) both suffered strokes and could not continue. Only Palmerston has died in office since, and he was then 80 in 1865. Portland was in his 70s, the others much younger. Uniquely in British history, Spencer Perceval is the only prime minister to have been assassinated.

There have been attempted assassinations, on royalty as well as politicians.  They include George III, George IV and Victoria (twice in the early years of her reign), while in 1843 Sir Robert Peel was the target, but his private secretary was murdered instead. In 1820, the Cato Street conspiracy sought to blow up the entire cabinet at dinner. Several of the targets were selected for their symbolic significance rather than as the cause of any grievance. Perhaps the 19th century was more violent in part because there were no alternative mechanisms through which injustices might be expressed, or if they existed, you had to have connections as well as money, and certainly education, to access them and receive a fair hearing.

Perceval was educated at Harrow and Cambridge University before training as a lawyer at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He became Tory MP for Northampton in 1796, replacing – reluctantly, it's said – his cousin, who had become Lord Northampton. Five years later he was solicitor-general and the following year attorney-general, first for Henry Addington and then retaining this post when Pitt returned as prime minister. In the Portland government of 1807-09 Perceval was chancellor of the Exchequer and leader of the House. The other “big beasts” in the Tory Party were Canning, Viscount Castlereagh and Robert Banks Jenkinson. Canning and Castlereagh stepped down from consideration for the succession when they fought a duel in September 1809 and were forced to resign. Jenkinson was now in the Lords as Lord Liverpool, and although George III much preferred the Tories, it took him a month to decide that Perceval would become PM – as he did on October 4, 1809. No-one else would accept the role of chancellor (including a young Palmerston), and Perceval was forced to continue in this post himself. His government, however, was mediocre, and not expected to last.

John Bellingham (1776-1812), the man who became Perceval’s assassin, had refused to pay up in a Russian shipping dispute, and was held in that country for four years. He believed that the British government had not done enough to support, let alone repatriate, him. It was, he believed, the government’s fault that he'd lost both money and the opportunity to trade, and thought it should compensate him, not least as the charges had been trumped up.  Specifically, Bellingham thought that Granville Leveson-Gower, then the British ambassador, could and should have done more. When Bellingham was eventually released and returned to Britain in the same month Perceval became PM, he tried all channels to gain redress. As each avenue closed, he became more obsessed. In March 1812, he told police magistrates that, if he was again refused help by the government, he would “feel justified in executing justice myself”. They ignored him.

Britain was still at war with France in Spain, the Luddite riots were at their height, and the instability at home was compounded both by an unpopular Regent standing in for "mad" George III and a trade crisis. Parliament was already jittery, even if in some respects things looked better than they had three years before. On Friday May 8, 1812, Perceval made a characteristic – and, as it turned out, last – speech to the Commons. This was to rebut allegations that it was only through the excessive influence of the Crown that his government remained in place. Competent governance and victories against France had shifted the Regent from his natural Whig inclinations, so this was quite a compliment to Perceval – even if a back-handed one. Indeed, at the start of 1812, the Earl of Dudley had written “... if [the Prince Regent] changes the Government he must turn out the most popular man in England, which Perceval undoubtedly is”.

On Monday May 11, Bellingham calmly waited in the lobby of the Commons, and when Perceval arrived at 5.15pm, about 45 minutes late for an inquiry into Orders in Council, Bellingham shot him. Perceval died soon afterwards while Bellingham made no attempt to escape. He was held in a parliamentary cell overnight before being taken to Newgate Prison next morning. There was wild public rejoicing in the streets, while a sombre Parliament was anxious that this might be the start of a general uprising.

In the immediate aftermath the inquiry into Orders in Council was deferred briefly, while the Whig opposition (led by Earl Grey in the Lords, Ponsonby and Whitbread in the Commons) was as concerned about witnesses being inconvenienced by the delay as it was by the circumstances that had thrown everything up in the air. Sinking their differences and pulling together was not the initial response. But, as Liverpool said, matters of state were more important than personal irritants. 

Where there were no differences of party view, continuing with ordinary business would send an important message to the country. This was not only a necessity, given the turbulent times, but also beneficial in concentrating attention on the issues that demanded it. The government leads (Castlereagh in the Commons, Liverpool in the Lords) were fundamental to dealing speedily with the aftermath and returning rapidly to business as usual. That the assassination was soon identified as “an insulated act”, rather than the start of a wider campaign, calmed nerves. Canning spoke for the whole House when he welcomed this reassurance. The Regent’s written Address to Parliament on May 12 acknowledged Perceval’s “public and private virtues” and, drawing attention to the family’s loss, sought Parliament’s permission for such financial provision for the family “as may be consistent with the justice and liberality of Parliament”. Perceval’s competence and principles were echoed on both sides of the political divide. Whitbread said that he did not think ill of any other MP beyond the House, but in Perceval’s case he had “found it impossible to carry such a feeling as far as the door”. Political disputes never became personal animosity. 

The Commons, having recovered its composure by May 13, first dealt with other routine matters before turning to the assassination. When discussing the response to the Address, Castlereagh proposed – and it was soon agreed – that as Perceval had been worse off as a public servant than he would have been had he remained a lawyer, a grant of £50,000 was appropriate for the 12 children. His wife, Jane, would receive an annuity of £2,000 per year, which on her death would transfer to the oldest son, also called Spencer. What was much more contentious was a separate proposal that this son Spencer receive an additional annuity immediately in his own right. There was no consensus on this, and given that parliamentary unanimity, as Whitbread reminded them, was as important to the family as the size of the award, the matter was deferred so that the other proposals could be presented to the Regent on May 14. Rather than their response to the Address being delivered to Carlton House by privy councillors, as Castlereagh had first suggested, the House decided it should come from all of them. Even a leading radical such as Sir Francis Burdett agreed. Demonstrating parliamentary unity was a more fundamental priority than any political differences.

On May 15, the Commons discussed whether a monument should be erected in Westminster Abbey. Although both sides were keen to avoid a political dispute before Perceval was buried, this debate heralded a return to party politics. Some Whigs were keen not to set a precedent, others thought it might indicate Parliament’s approval of Perceval’s policies, while yet others thought there were much more deserving public servants who had not been so recognised in the past. In Whitbread’s view, the evidence of Parliament’s abhorrence in the parliamentary record was sufficient, while for Wynn “instead of a monument of honour to Perceval, it would be a column of infamy for his murderer”. Among the Tories, Canning justified a monument as “a concentration of national sorrow”, while for Wilberforce it would be a lasting demonstration of the importance of carrying “private virtues into public life”.  The monument was eventually agreed, as was William Huskisson’s follow-on motion that the younger Spencer Perceval receive an annuity of £1,000 per annum from that Monday, the date of his father’s death.

At his wife’s request, Perceval was buried privately in the Egmont family vault at St Luke’s Church, Charlton, on Saturday May 16. His memorial in the church eulogises the resulting “void in the high and eloquent councils of the nation” while concluding that “a home of peace and love” had been turned “into a house of mourning and desolation”. Monuments to Perceval include one in Northampton Town Hall as well as that in Westminster Abbey. All Saints' Church, Ealing, was built in his memory in 1905 with money left by his youngest daughter. 

John Bellingham was hanged at Newgate Prison on Monday May 18, after a speedy trial the previous Friday in which the jury had required 14 minutes to pronounce him guilty. An appalling episode in the country’s history had been removed from public view within a week.

A century later, in May 1912, Asquith’s government had tackled the constitutional crisis of previous years, world war was on the horizon and industrial unrest and home rule for Ireland were prominent. In May 1812, the range of threats had been similar. The assassination of a prime minister added to the combustible mix, but continuity was the priority rather than conflagration. Perceval, too, would have thought this critical. All politicians would prefer to manage events than be at their mercy.

Hugh Gault’s most recent book is Living History: A Family’s 19th Century (Gretton Books, 2010), about the Percevals

Tags: History, Issue 35, Spencer Perceval, The forgotten PM