A Correct Account of the Horrible Occurrence Which Took Place at a Public-House in St. James's Market: In Which It Was Discovered That the Right Rev. Father in God the Bishop of Clogher, Lately Transferred From the Bishopric of Ferns, Was a Principal Actor With a Common Soldier! To the Disgrace Not Only of the Cloth, to Which He Was Attached, and as a Commissioner of the Board of Education, and a Dictator of Public Morals, but as a Member of That Nation Which Gave Him Birth!

In Short

This public-domain pamphlet presents a scathing contemporary critique of elite corruption and journalistic cowardice following a notorious 1822 scandal. It details how the Honourable and Right Reverend Percy Jocelyn, Lord Bishop of Clogher, was apprehended alongside a private in the Foot Guards at a St. James's public-house. The text preserves furious commentary attacking the mainstream London newspapers for attempting to suppress, obscure, or soften the crime of a high-ranking official while aggressively prosecuting the vulnerable. It survives as a raw, unfiltered artifact of Regency-era political outrage and social hypocrisy.

The Story

The work opens with an indignant preface that establishes its core moral stance: the press and powerful associations routinely shield the privileged while punishing the impoverished. Citing a sacred duty to expose vicious conduct within the upper ranks, the author dismisses hypocritical arguments that such exposures damage religion itself. Instead, true reverence demands severe abhorrence of those who violate Christian principles from positions of authority.

From this theoretical preamble, the text transitions into a reprinting of a blistering article from the radical newspaper The Statesman, dated July 22, 1822. This section attacks the mainstream London press for its long-standing corruption, accusing it of acting as a tool of the establishment through fraudulent impartiality, suppressed facts, and direct bribery.

The narrative then embeds an account originally published in The Observer on July 21, 1822. This central report details the sudden, shocking detection of a high-ranking clergyman in a back room of the White Lion public-house in St. Alban's Place. A curious young girl peering through a gap in the drawn curtains alerts the landlord, who rushes in with witnesses to break open the door. They discover the Right Reverend Father in God, Percy Jocelyn, Lord Bishop of Clogher, engaged in an illicit act with a private soldier from the Foot Guards. An angry crowd gathers outside, nearly subjecting the bishop to physical violence before peace officers intervene and drag both men to the watch-house.

Following the arrest, the text describes the legal proceedings at the Marlborough-Street police office. Presiding magistrate Mr. Dyer conducts a private examination and permits the bishop to go free upon securing a one-thousand-pound bail bond. The soldier, less fortunate, is denied bail and committed to stand trial.

The pamphlet concludes with a comprehensive, scathing survey of how various mainstream daily and weekly newspapers handled the breaking story. The author exposes their cowardly attempts to minimize the scandal through extreme obscurity, deliberate omissions, altered terminology, or total silence. By contrasting this protective editorial blackout with the harsh punishments routinely meted out to humble dissidents and reformers, the work delivers a relentless final indictment of elite solidarity and journalistic hypocrisy.

How It Unfolds

The preface of condemnation The text begins with a sharp moral declaration insisting that the press has an imperative duty to expose the vicious behavior of the privileged. It castigates hypocritical defenders of religion who attempt to shield corrupt ministers from public scrutiny.

The indictment of the press Moving into the reprinted commentary from The Statesman, the narrative launches a furious assault on the mainstream London newspapers. It brands the established press as an infamous, corrupt machine that routinely suppresses facts and protects the powerful.

The discovery at the public-house The core event unfolds when a young girl notices drawn curtains in a back room of a London public-house and looks inside. Her discovery prompts the landlord and other witnesses to break open the door and apprehend the participants.

The arrest and police examination The accused men are hauled to the watch-house amidst a hostile crowd before being transferred to the Marlborough-Street police office. Magistrate Mr. Dyer conducts a private examination, eventually releasing the high-ranking clergyman on bail while committing the soldier to trial.

The editorial cover-up The narrative concludes by examining the shameful reactions of major daily papers like the Morning Chronicle and the Old Times. These publications deliberately minimize, obscure, or entirely ignore the transaction to protect elite reputations.

The People

Percy Jocelyn, the Honourable and Right Reverend Lord Bishop of Clogher, stands at the center of the scandal as a primary offender. Once respected in elite society, a Commissioner of the Board of Education, and a self-appointed dictator of public morals, he seeks to preserve his high station and evade public disgrace. Standing in his way are the watchful eyes of ordinary citizens, yet he ultimately relies on his wealth and legal privileges to secure his release.

The unnamed private in the Foot Guards acts as Jocelyn's companion during the fateful evening. Caught up in the sudden raid, he shares the immediate ignominy of arrest but lacks the financial resources or social connections of his co-accused, resulting in his imprisonment and commitment to trial while the bishop walks free.

Mr. Dyer, the presiding magistrate at the Marlborough-Street police office, holds the immediate legal authority over the case. He faces a volatile public atmosphere and the task of managing a politically sensitive arraignment, ultimately deciding to grant bail to the clergyman while holding the soldier.

The critical observers and radical commentators, channeled through the voice of the publication, act as the moral backbone of the text. Armed with indignation, they seek to tear down the veil of journalistic corruption and demand accountability for the powerful.

In Its Own Voice

On Friday night it appears that he was detected in a back room of the White Lion public-house, in St. Alban’s place, St. James’s, in a situation with a private in the Foot Guards, to which we will not more minutely allude, but which led to his instant apprehension and removal with his companion to the watch house.

The Observer report details the initial, shocking apprehension of the bishop and the soldier.

What, are all the Bishops then, to live under this imputation or suspicion? Are all the Bishops to be suspected for the sake of this wretch, as the Observer itself justly calls him?

The commentator argues that concealing names unfairly casts suspicion across the entire clerical bench.

The Morning Post curtails the article of the Observer to about a fifth part, and puts it at the bottom of a column, in a part of the paper likely to escape observation.

The text exposes how mainstream newspapers deliberately buried the scandalous news to protect the establishment.

What It's Really About

The work explores the profound double standards embedded in nineteenth-century English society and law. It investigates how power, class, and institutional privilege operate to shield elite wrongdoers from the consequences that ordinary citizens routinely face. The author questions the integrity of a press that styles itself as a guardian of public morals while actively suppressing news that threatens the ruling class. Furthermore, the text interrogates the deep hypocrisy of religious authorities who dictate public morality while violating every principle they vow to uphold. Ultimately, the book is a fierce meditation on justice, accountability, and the systemic corruption of public institutions.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in political history, journalism ethics, and the evolution of social taboos will find this pamphlet deeply compelling. It offers a rare, unfiltered look at Regency-era outrage, capturing the exact pulse of public fury when institutional corruption is laid bare. Reading it feels like stumbling across a radioactive artifact of nineteenth-century polemic journalism, crackling with raw anger and biting sarcasm.

Modern readers must navigate period-specific political references, dense nineteenth-century prose styles, and archaic formatting, which can occasionally obscure the narrative flow. However, the emotional core of the text remains remarkably accessible. Anyone fascinated by the eternal cat-and-mouse game between media gatekeepers and public accountability will recognize the timeless mechanics of institutional cover-ups at play. The sharp contrast between the harsh treatment of humble citizens and the kid-glove handling of the powerful resonates sharply with contemporary conversations about systemic inequality and elite impunity. It leaves behind a haunting reminder of how easily power protects its own, and how fiercely ordinary voices must fight to drag the truth into the light.