Often in my research I keep needing to find who was leading the government and do this through every book. I thought that having the list handy would be good, and then turning it into a research webpage even better. Here is the list. After I post a few more Timeline years and write some more, I will work on the web page with notes about each PM.
|William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck, 3rd Duke of Portland||04/02/1783
|William Pitt the Younger||12/19/1783
|Henry Addington 1st Viscount Sidmouth, “The Doctor”||03/14/1801
|William Pitt the Younger||05/10/1804
|William Wyndham Grenville, 1st Baron Grenville||02/11/1806
|William Henry Cavendish-Bentinck, 3rd Duke of Portland||03/31/1807
|Robert Banks Jenkinson, 2nd Earl of Liverpool||06/08/1812
|Frederick John Robinson, 1st Viscount Goderich||08/31/1827
|Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington
|Charles Grey, 2nd Earl Grey
|William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Melbourne
|Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington
|Sir Robert Peel, 2nd Baronet
|William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Melbourne
|Tory* (Tory government, PM a Whig)
Frederick John Robinson, 1st Viscount Goderich, 1st Earl of Ripon
“Prosperity Robinson”, “Goody Goderich” and “The Blubberer“
Born 11/01/1782 London
Died 01/28/1859 Putney Heath, London
Seems to be the second shortest serving Prime Minister. No great acts in so short a time.
Viscount Goderich’s time as prime minister lasted only a few days longer than his predecessor Canning.
Goderich was chosen by King George IV over the favourite for the post, the Duke of Wellington. Goderich seemed a good prospect as Prime Minister, having served ably as Chancellor of the Exchequer under Lord Liverpool.
But Goderich lacked support among his colleagues and in his party, and he was not up to the task of running a quarrelling Cabinet.
Goderich had difficulty in coping practically and emotionally. He resigned after four months in office, before he had achieved anything of note. His time is nearly as short as Canning’s in office. (A Prime Minister of fifteen years, Lord Liverpool, and then 2 short termers in a row.)
He did return to hold political office some years later to serve under Earl Grey and Robert Peel.
He did serve under four other Prime Ministers and his son also served as a Cabinet Minister.
Lord and Lady Ripon are buried in the memorial chapel at All Saints Church, Nocton.
(IMHO, he is the Brad Pitt lookalike amongst the Prime Ministers. See the sketch below)
Lord Goderich – First Lord of the Treasury and Leader of the House of Lords
Lord Lyndhurst – Lord Chancellor
The Duke of Portland – Lord President of the Council
The Earl of Carlisle – Lord Privy Seal
The Marquess of Lansdowne – Secretary of State for the Home Department
The Earl of Dudley – Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs
William Huskisson – Secretary of State for War and the Colonies and Leader of the House of Commons
J. C. Herries – Chancellor of the Exchequer
The Marquess of Anglesey – Master-General of the Ordnance
Charles Grant – President of the Board of Trade and Treasurer of the Navy
Charles Watkin Williams-Wynn – President of the Board of Control
William Sturges Bourne – First Commissioner of Woods and Forests
Lord Bexley – Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster
Viscount Palmerston – Secretary at War
Lord Ripon married Lady Sarah Albinia Louisa, daughter of Robert Hobart, 4th Earl of Buckinghamshire, in 1814. He died in Putney Heath, London, in January 1859, aged 76, and was succeeded by his only son, George, Viscount Goderich. He became a noted Liberal statesman and cabinet minister and was created Marquess of Ripon in 1871. The Countess of Ripon died in April 1867, aged 74
“There was no one good in this life that had not with it some concomitant evil”
Do you know about our Giveaway this week? If you answer in the comments there, that you have an idea, or just comment (not just a HI, but which research track you like and why) I am giving away an eBook in your favorite format, ePub, Mobi, or PDF, etc. You can choose from The End of the World, The Shattered Mirror, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s Correspondence, or the one I think you will enjoy the most, Jane Austen and Ghosts. (And if you want to ready the Trolling books instead, just mention that.
The giveaway will last through Sunday the 8th, at which time I will pick a winner and announce your feedback and what it all means for future posting, as well as the winner on the following Monday.
Are you A RAPper or a RAPscallion?
The Writing Life
My current writing project, a Fantasy, the third part of my trilogy on the son of Duke. It is the third in what I started when I left college. I finished the second part about 2 years ago, and so now I will wrap it up and reedit it all. It is tentatively titles, Crown in Jeopardy, the third book in the Born to Grace tale.
It opens with our hero setting up a trap for the enemies.
Chapter 1: Bait continued
That was the long game that was played. That Cynwal would get information, as they were sure that spies and traitors relayed to the man, suggesting that there were reasons for Caradoc and his contingent to leave the main column and become marauders in the north. Yet those same spies were sure to report that Caradoc had no more than twelve hundred men.
A group that had to be reckoned with, but could move fast. That would make camp at night that was sizable enough that there would need to be several thousand to attack. About the size that Cynwal had still to command after he had retreated across the border to his lands. Several thousand. Not more than six, if Caradoc’s spies were correct, as well as the magus that William employed.
Caradoc believed that rhe Hovites though were probably more accurate. Avram’s countryman, Capain Pincus had established a means to dialogue with them near daily. And the last report was that Cynwal had started to return with that force to confront Caradoc. That was what was driving towards them now that the scouts reported. That William and his Magus had focused on. Six thousand Powys clansmen coming to attack. One would speculate that they were outnumbered about five to one.
Which is what Caradoc wanted the enemy to think.
Avram was in charge of finding a camp for the night and usually had one identified every mile or two, just waiting for the orders to halt and bring everyone on the march together. Caradoc looked forward to finding the spot, after he gave the order to halt for the night, so that he could dismount and get out of his boots. Then have apply liniment to his aching muscles. He prayed they would help. He would have to put his boots back on quickly for there would be little warning if an attack came at night, or early in the morning, and he would be sleeping in them. In his armor as well, else Jamus and the bodyguards would have a fit.
They took seriously the odds that they were outnumbered so heavily. Even though they knew many details of Caradoc’s plan. Then took all of the matter quite seriously. They were nor too afraid, but Caradoc was sleeping in his armor, with his boots on until they were safe across the border into Northmarch and in a castle as well.
“I do not know that all this posturing is necessary all the time. You do not sleep in armor or your boots!” he said to William, as they dismounted where men were erecting tents for them that night.
“No, yet I do have some leather here that I wear. I do not want to wear chainmail, though you know I have done so. It is too heavy.”
Caradoc said, “I thought you complained that it would interfere with your spells.”
“Some. You know if I wanted to levitate, all that extra weight means I have to use a lot more power to get off the ground and go higher. I causes more fatigue then.” William said. “And sleeping in your boots. That is just foolish. It would take you all of a ten seconds to put your feet in your boots if the alarm is sounded.”
“What spells do you know to take away the pains?”
“Oh,” William looked at him, “I can ask one of the Magus who is good at healing. You know I can stop blood spilling out of you, but otherwise, I am not much of a healer. If you have aches, or worse, well I could ask Miriam for some help. She is much better than I, but if it is serious, then I expect she would tell the princess and then we will be up all night as Clarisse bothers Miriam, who will bother me, and I will have to fetch you and relay what you say back to Miriam for Clarisse, who will just ask something else.”
Caradoc held up his hand. “Yes, I know how that works. Archibald, I need to get these boots off quick and if we can find some water to soak them in…” William was chuckling as he went away to the tent that was already raised for him. Everytime they camped, William’s tent had been up first, while Caradoc waited for his to be raised.
It was several times bigger than any other in the camp. Even though Caradoc had use of less space than even William. But still, he was the commander and his tent rose after the ArchMagus. Something was wrong and he would see that when they left Powys, he was treated with more respect. That he was able to take off his boots and relax at the end of the day quickly. He did not have long to do so, since the other commanders would come to report, get orders, and then after the men had built the defenses of the camp, Caradoc would then have to tour them. If he had a half hour of peace before several hours in which he was tasked with numerous and onerous duties, he would think he had reached the right hand of the gods as a reward.
All those that paid taxes which supported his efforts in this did not realize how hard he worked when he was in battle, at war. Which he had been for years continuously, it seemed. It was at these moments that he began to think of larger issues. War was tearing apart the kingdoms and was it right to include the freemen, and peasants in that war? They paid their taxes so they need not fight and leave their families unless it was the worst of situations.
So did Cynwal and his people have to kill so many as they left the lands of Hull, or raise terror upon the freemen when they had invaded? They did not need to have done so. The armies of Northmarch did meet them in battle, eventually. The freemen surrendered their food and supplies when they had them to the invaders.
Now Caradoc used similar tactics to force the enemy to battle. The taking of the hands of those serfs here who opposed them. It was a cruelty. Against men who just wanted to live their lives and protect their families. It was evil. Caradoc knew it.
It forced Cynwal to return and plan to kill Caradoc and his men. That was the need. That was the reason those of Northmarch waged a war this way. To coerce the clanrex to fight.
Saying who started the horrendous deed would not be of consolation to the man who had no hand. It would not replace the entire family that had been slaughtered. But if Caradoc could succeed to his purpose, then perhaps he could end the madness for a time. A generation, two, that would be enough.
Individually the sacrifices would not ever be worth it. A man losing his hand because those born lucky, into powerful families, played a game of chess with his life, would never believe that he had lost his hand in a noble cause. Caradoc though knew that the loss of a few hands if it would later save thousands of lives for years had a worth and value. But it was not a cost he had fully paid for yet. Cynwal still needed to be defeated. Cynwal, Arthur, Danel, and their many other enemies needed to be defeated so that peace could be restored.
There had been border raids and small actions for the last several decades. Not until the army of Northmarch marched to the Holy Lands because of Archpriest Dubh’s visions. Visions that allowed Caradoc to free Archpriest Artorius from the Protector’s dungeons. Visions that allowed them to retrieve relics for safekeeping here in the north.
That had been the first coordinated action of a Northmarcher army in years. And it had been successful in battle and in its mission, thanks to Caradoc. The thing that could be held of the other kingdoms in the North was that they had not fielded large armies either in the decades since Northmarch last fought Powys.
Perhaps that was why things were carrying on so long? No one remembered how long and how hard a war was. Caradoc laughed at himself for that notion. Too many remembered how hard and long war could be. Especially he and the other veterans of the southern campaign. They had taken years to march South and return. Caradoc only avoiding the last leg of the march by sailing north in haste with Edward after his marriage to the daughter of the King of Falchon. That had shaved months off the return and saw to the relics being brought north that much quicker.
And saw to Caradoc being sent by the king on a mission once more. If King Richard hadn’t, then perhaps Clarisse would not have followed him, and they would not have fallen in love as they had. But then, what would have happened at Larsent Bridge? If Clarisse was not in love with him, and he only treated her as the Princess of Northmarch. If he had not needed to rescue her as badly as he had.
Once Edward had been freed, would Caradoc have had to fight to free Clarisse? Would that have mattered if she was a prisoner of her betrothed? He could not play these games of what could have been for long. Hyfaidd had violated treaties and he would have had to have been attacked. And with Lady Miriam having snuck her way into the keep, there was no question about trying to free the Princess. But Caradoc might not have charged the enemy and battled through the ford like a man possessed. The troops still talked of that day.
He had not given much thought to his own safety on that ride, and it had shown in the risks he had taken, and the fear amongst those who had fallen to his sword. The men of Powys paid terribly for Hyfaidd’s mistakes and animosity. They were still paying.
Caradoc reflected that clan wars had a terrible history. Even amongst his own clan and family. But it had been more than two centuries since a MacLaughlin had waged such warfare. The first night that they were away from the Northmarch host, he had called every clansmen that travelled with him. Then he had told them that he invoked blood feud against Cynwal and all his clan. Caradoc had told his people that he would not rest until the line of Cynwal and all his blood was annihilated. That such a family would either be eradicated, or he would die trying to rid the world of them.
Cynwal would either have to die, and any heirs he had, or submit to Caradoc. Caradoc then could retract his oath. But others came and stood and pledged as he had. Until every clansman amongst the force had stated as had Caradoc. And it was more than MacLaughlin that did so. Ross had spoken as had Stuart. Every man who had been born of the Clans had pledged the same oath.
It did not mean that the other clans were forced to wage a blood feud as well, but it sure gave them reason to. There were seventeen clans represented that night. Even some of Powys blood for the borders were porous. And Clans were large collections of families. Not all families agreed with their fathers, and with Powys actions of the last few months, they had to question if the Cynwal of Powys had been a wise and just leader. Even though these men had owed allegiance to Northmarch for generations.