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Much has been written about the peculiarly disturbing strain of political assassinations in American history. From Lincoln and Garfield to McKinley and Kennedy, it鈥檚 a sad and bloody path.

There are also the near misses. Since the first recorded assassination attempt on Andrew Jackson in 1835, there has been a string of close calls, including Harry Truman in 1950, Gerald Ford twice in 1975 and Ronald Reagan in 1981. Two ex-presidents were shot while running to reclaim their old job 鈥� Theodore Roosevelt in 1912 and Donald Trump in 2024 鈥� and Franklin Roosevelt was inches away from a would-be assassin鈥檚 bullet as president-elect in 1933.

Of the 45 men who鈥檝e served as president, 11 鈥� almost one in four 鈥� were targeted. It is, quite literally, a high-risk job.

Compare that to our cousins across the pond. Robert Walpole is generally considered Great Britain鈥檚 first prime minister, taking office in 1721. Of the 57 men and women who followed him over the next 305 years, one 鈥� and only one 鈥� was assassinated.

You won鈥檛 find his face on British coins or stamps. Despite an elaborately ornate memorial in Westminster Abbey and a handful of plaques here and there, he鈥檚 as much forgotten in his country as he is unknown in ours.

This is the story of England鈥檚 only murdered prime minister.

With an earl for his father and a baroness for his mother, Spencer Perceval was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. His dad was an adviser to King George III and served for a while as Lord of the Admiralty. The lush life didn鈥檛 last long.

His father died when Perceval was 8. As the second son of a second marriage, he wasn鈥檛 positioned to inherit much beyond his family鈥檚 aristocratic connections. Besides, with 15 brothers and sisters, there weren鈥檛 enough pounds to go around. Perceval would have to make his own way in the world.

He decided to become a lawyer, studying hard and working his way up from the bottom. His lowly prospects even put a crimp in his love life. He and his older brother Charles fell in love with two sisters. But big brother had inherited the title of lord, a seat in Parliament and the bulk of daddy鈥檚 estate. The girls鈥� father eagerly approved of that match. However, as for the poor younger brother and his other daughter: no dice. So, they eloped. And to the father-in-law鈥檚 utter astonishment, they apparently lived happily ever after.

It took time, but Perceval鈥檚 law practice prospered. A career in politics followed. He paid his dues and rose through the Tory ranks, becoming chancellor of the Exchequer 鈥� Britain鈥檚 version of treasury secretary 鈥� in 1807.

In a twist of fate, it was this job that would lead to his violent demise.

He finally got his nation鈥檚 top job in 1809 at age 46. He鈥檇 come a long way since the days when his lowly station prevented a father from granting his consent to marry.

A small, thin, pale man always dressed in black, his rivals sneeringly called him 鈥淟ittle P鈥� behind his back. He was the last prime minister to wear the powdered wig with ponytail and knee breeches that had been fashionable in the 18th century. And while he may have been a lackluster public figure, Perceval was an able administrator.

He was such a non-entity that he might have been lost to history entirely if he hadn鈥檛 decided to attend a routine meeting in the House of Commons. It was 5:15 p.m. on Monday, May 11, 1812. An unhinged man was waiting in the lobby.

John Bellingham felt he鈥檇 been wronged. A businessman working in Russia, he鈥檇 spent a year in prison there and believed 鈥� incorrectly 鈥� that the Crown owed him compensation for his time behind bars. His request had been denied when Perceval was handling the empire鈥檚 purse strings. He got his revenge that spring evening.

Bellingham approached the prime minister and shot him in the heart.

Perceval muttered 鈥渕urdered鈥� and then 鈥淥h my God鈥� before collapsing. Carried to a nearby room, he was placed on a table. When a doctor arrived seven minutes later, he was already dead.

Bellingham sat calmly on a bench awaiting apprehension. He was tried, found guilty and hanged within one week. His body was given to medical students for dissection.

It was soon found that, despite his high position, Perceval was flat broke. He left only 100 pounds for his widow and 12 children. Parliament swiftly awarded them all pensions.

Perceval was buried with great pomp and ceremony 鈥� and then promptly forgotten. Unlike the murders of Lincoln and Kennedy, which live on in America鈥檚 legacy to this day, Perceval鈥檚 untimely passing became barely a footnote in England鈥檚 long and fanciful history.

J. Mark Powell is a former television journalist. His nonfiction book 鈥淲itness to War: The Story of the Civil War Told by Those Living Through It鈥� is available at . He wrote this for .