I’m reading a lot about 18th century London at the moment because I’m writing the second in my new historical series (the first, An Honourable Thief, will be published by Canelo in hardback and ebook in September. Also – new Rebecca Connolly coming in July and next year’s already written!)
One of the joys of historical research is when I find something that simply fascinates. It may be a fact or a story that will not be used in the final book but it may inform the world I am trying to create.
Such discoveries can take me down a research rabbit hole, however, and I have to be careful not to be diverted for too long following something that has merely piqued my interest.
After all, I’ve a book to write!
This particular snippet occurred almost a century after my books are set but I found it fascinating.
In February 1814, a French Colonel du Bourg announced in Dover that the Emperor Napoleon had been killed and the ongoing war with France was at an end. The news was strengthened by an army of French officers appearing on the streets of London handing out flyers declaring that the two countries were now at peace.
Then, as now, such news caused considerable agitation on the stock market as speculators sought to turn a profit, with over £1 million worth of bonds changing hands.
Naturally, news of Napoleon’s death were premature and the entire story concocted as a means of manipulating prices in government bonds.
Colonel du Bourg was revealed to be Captain Random de Berenger. He was duly arrested and charged with fraud along with MP and naval hero (he was known as The Sea Wolf by the French) Lord Thomas Cochrane, later 10th Earl of Dundonald, his financial advisor Richard Butt and his uncle the Honourable Andrew Cochrane-Johnstone. They were all found guilty, sentenced to 12 months in jail, ordered to pay £1000 fine and spend an hour in the pillory, where they might be subject to all sorts of public humiliation.
In addition, Lord Cochran had his naval rank taken from him and his honours stripped.
However, he did not have to suffer the indignities of the pillory because his friend Sr Francis Burdett threatened to stand beside him. The Crown, perhaps not wishing an innocent nobleman to be pelted by all kinds of foul missiles, rescinded the pillory part of the sentence. However, it has also been stated that there was strong public opinion against this sentence and indeed Thomas Cochrane’s guilt. Although his parliamentary seat was taken from him, his constituents re-elected him at the subsequent by-election. He consistently claimed his innocence and the voters seemed to believe him.
His uncle, by the way, scarpered before any punishment could be meted out.
But it didn’t end there for Lord Cochrane. He did his time, certainly, and when free he rejoined the navy. He also helped in the wars of independence of both Peru, Chile and Brazil. In 1832 he was pardoned, obviously the government of the day thought he’d had a raw deal, and eventually rose to the rank of Admiral.
Debate regarding his guilt among some historians has raged ever since. The thing is, would such a man – a radical politician for his day – be party to such a scheme? I tend to think not but it is always possible that greed could have overcome principles.
