When
WILLIAM IV.
was King.

BY
JOHN ASHTON,
AUTHOR OF
"SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE," ETC., ETC., ETC.

WITH FORTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS.

LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, LD.
1896.

(p. vii) CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
1830.

Illness of George IV. — His death — Sale of his clothes, etc. — The new King — His character.

In the Times of Friday, April 16, 1830, we have the following Court Circular:—

This was the first intimation, to the nation, of the serious condition of George the Fourth. He was paying the penalty for the irregularities of his life, by suffering from a complication of diseases; inflammation of the chest, gout in the stomach, dropsy, ossification of the heart, bile, and asthma. Latterly, he had retired to Virginia water, where he lived at the so-called "Cottage," solaced by the society of Lady Conyngham, and existing chiefly on brandy and curaçoa. His age (for he was in his sixty-eighth year) was against his recovery, and at 3.13 a.m. on the 26th of June, 1830, he expired. He was in bed when the stroke of death fell upon him. The page next him, instantly proceeded to raise his Majesty, according to the motion which he signified by his finger. The King was, at once, assisted into a chair at his bedside, and a great alteration struck the page, (p. 3) as overcasting the royal countenance; the King's eyes became fixed, his lips quivered, and he appeared to be sinking into a fainting fit. The physicians were instantly sent for, and the attendants at once assisted the King with sal volatile, eau de cologne, and such stimulants as were at hand on the table. At this moment his Majesty attempted to raise his hand to his breast, faintly ejaculating, "O God! I am dying;" and, after a pause of two or three seconds, he uttered the following words, which were his last: "This is death!"

So passed away George the Magnificent—and the Marchioness of Conyngham immediately began to pack up and hurry off, whither, no one exactly knew. What she took with her was never known; but, later on, she had to disgorge some very valuable jewels. Needless to say, there was a grand funeral; and then came the sale of his wardrobe and effects, of which Greville writes[1]:—

"August 3, 1830.—I went, yesterday, to the sale of the late King's wardrobe, which was numerous enough to fill Monmouth Street, and sufficiently various and splendid for the wardrobe of Drury Lane. He hardly ever gave anything away, except his linen, which was distributed every year. These clothes are the perquisites of his pages, and will fetch a pretty sum. There are all the coats he has ever had for fifty years; three hundred whips, canes without number, every sort of uniform, the costumes of all the orders in Europe, splendid furs, pelisses, hunting-coats and breeches, and, among other things, a dozen pair of corduroy breeches he had made to hunt in, when Don Miguel was here. (p. 4) His profusion in these articles was unbounded, because he never paid for them, and his memory was so accurate, that one of his pages told me he recollected every article of dress, no matter how old, and that they were always liable to be called on to produce some particular coat, or other article of apparel of years gone by."

The Times (August 18, 1830) says—

"The late King's wardrobe has been selling, for the last fortnight, at the warehouse of Mr. Bailey, the King's Upholder, in Mount Street, Grosvenor Square. The property was immense. It was the perquisites of the Pages of the Back Stairs, six in number; and we hear that the sale realized £15,000. The Earl of Chesterfield gave 200 guineas for a sable pelisse, which has since been valued at 600, and was a present from the Emperor Alexander. The Marquis of Hertford was among the purchasers. There were many pairs of boots and shoes, which were sold at 5s. per pair, one with the other, to a person in the trade. There were numerous pairs of silk stockings. The cambric and silk handkerchiefs produced a guinea each, although the pages said they were not worth more than 7s. each. The cellar of snuff was bought by Mr. Pontet, of Pall Mall, for £400."

This latter fact is scarcely correct. It was bought by Messrs. Freybourg and Treyer, of the Haymarket, who set apart a special room for its sale.

To finish up with the sale of the royal effects, we read in the Gentleman's Magazine, of June 9, 1831, that—

These prices do not show that the people cared much to possess relics of their late sovereign; indeed, he was speedily forgotten, and all eyes were turned to the rising sun. The newspapers teemed with anecdotes of him, from his childhood upwards (mostly very sorry stuff), and, oblivious of his errors, inanity, and frivolity, the people hailed William (why or wherefore?) as "The Patriot King." Until the death of the Duke of York, he had excited no more public interest than any of the other royal princes; but (p. 6) when that event took place, he was looked upon as heir to the throne, had an increased grant from Parliament, and lived a somewhat retired life at Bushey Park, with his wife, Amelia Adelaide, eldest child of George, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Meiningen, whom he married on July 18, 1818.

His life, previous to his accession to the throne, is not within the province of this book—it is sufficient to say that at no time was he remarkable for his intellect, tractability, or social manners. Hear what Greville,[3] an acute observer, even if he were somewhat of a cynic, says about him at his accession—

"London, July 16.—I returned here on the 6th of this month, and have waited these ten days to look about me, and see and hear what is passing. The present King and his proceedings occupy all attention, and nobody thinks any more of the late King, than if he had been dead fifty years, unless it be to abuse him and rake up all his vices and misdeeds. Never was elevation like that of William IV. His life has, hitherto, passed in obscurity and neglect, in miserable poverty, surrounded by a numerous progeny of bastards, without consideration or friends, and he was ridiculous from his grotesque ways and little meddling curiosity. Nobody ever invited them into their house, or thought it necessary to honour him with any mark of attention or respect; and so he went on for about forty years, till Canning brought him into notice by making him Lord High Admiral at the time of his grand ministerial schism. In that post he distinguished himself by making absurd speeches, by a morbid official activity, and by a general wildness which was thought to indicate incipient insanity, till shortly after Canning's death and the Duke's[4] accession, it is well known, the latter dismissed him. He then dropped back into obscurity, but had (p. 7) become, by this time, somewhat more of a personage than he was before. His brief administration of the Navy, the death of the Duke of York, which made him heir to the throne, his increased wealth and regular habits, had procured him more consideration, though not a great deal. Such was his position when George IV. broke all at once, and after three months of expectation, William finds himself King."

(p. 8) CHAPTER II.
1830.

Proclamation of William IV. — The Beer Act — The Queen and gas — Burial of George IV. — The King and the Duke of Cumberland — The King as a soldier — He meddles with the uniforms of the army.

On Monday, June 28, 1830, the king came at an early hour to St. James's Palace to witness the ceremony of his proclamation, which was duly done at 10 a.m., with the usual pomp, the heralds giving forth that, with the acquiescence of everybody—

"We do now hereby, with one voice and consent of tongue and heart, proclaim that the High and Mighty Prince William, Duke of Clarence, is now, by the death of the late Sovereign, of happy memory, become our only lawful and rightful Liege Lord William the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of Great Britain and Ireland;" and so forth.

It was a gay sight, for people had not had time to get into mourning costume, and the bright summer dresses of the ladies made it a brilliant show.

He commenced his reign with a gracious act, which considerably added to his popularity. Before the ceremony of proclamation he showed himself at a window in St. James's Palace, before which some thousands of people had assembled. According to the Globe—

(p. 9) "By some Jack-in-Office, the spectators were ordered to be dispersed, which was speedily done by the Life Guards. On the arrival of the heralds to proclaim the accession, the King reappeared at his window, and, finding a vacant space below, which, previously, was crowded, with some degree of surprise, said, 'What has become of the people?' On being told they had been removed, 'By whose order?' next inquired the King. He was so dissatisfied with the answer as to command the gate of the courtyard immediately to be re-opened, and the public to be re-admitted, who soon re-assembled in great numbers, and cheered their Sovereign most vociferously."

The change of rulers did not affect Parliament. The Lords adjourned for a day, and the Commons did very little business until all the members had taken the oath of allegiance to the new sovereign, who kept on the old Ministry, with the Duke of Wellington at its head. Very shortly afterwards, the question of a Regency (the Princess Victoria being only twelve years old) cropped up; and after that, on July 12th, was read a third time and passed in the House of Lords "An Act to permit the general Sale of Beer and Cyder by Retail in England" (1 Gul. IV. c. lxiv.), which the Times describes as "a great victory obtained for the poor over the unpitying avarice of the rich."

Beer always had been the standard drink of England, and, at this time, no cheap substitute had been found for it. Tea was far too dear for common folk, as was coffee, and cocoa or chocolate were only for the well-to-do. This Act is virtually that under which beer-houses are now licensed, which made a licence to sell beer only easy to obtain. It suited the times, and was very popular. A song, which is still (p. 10) sung, but which dates from early Victorian times, makes a slight error as to the intention of the Act, but it shows a grateful remembrance of the same. It is called—

The accompanying illustration, by an anonymous artist, shows the Duke of Wellington providing the (p. 11) people with beer, in a popular manner. It is entitled "Opening the Beer Trade; or, Going into a New Line of Business."

The background is formed of two houses; one the sign of the King's Head; the other, the Druggist's Arms. Outside the closed door of the latter, which is "To let, enquire of the Brewers," stands Timothy Mix'em, dealer in compounds, who, looking at the group, mournfully remarks, "They'll soon shut up all the houses by opening the Trade." The King's Head is kept by Arthur and Co., dealer in swipes, who proclaims on his windows, "Genuine Beer, from Malt and Hops only," and has a placard that the New Beer Act commences October 10, 1830. The old Duke of Wellington says to the dustman and his wife, "Come, my Britons, here's your real malt and hops;" whilst Peel, as pot-boy, remarks, "No poisonous drugs here, my boys, it's all real stuff."

On July 23rd, Parliament was dissolved.

Ever since the accession of William IV. his slightest movements were chronicled, even down to the smallest of small beer, such as[5]—

"The Duke of Wellington, when at Windsor, a few days ago, directed that the gas might be cut off from the interior of the castle, by the desire of the Queen, who, we understand, entertained apprehensions lest an accident might be caused by explosion. Her Majesty's wishes will, of course, be immediately complied with, and directions have already been given to the Gas Company for the purpose."

(p. 12) The movements of the Princess Victoria, who had now become a personage, were also duly chronicled, and we are told how "The presence of the Duchess (of Kent) and her interesting daughter will, no doubt, attract numerous visitors to Malvern."

George IV., after lying in state, was buried on July 15th, with all the pomp usually accompanying the burial of a King of England. Greville tells us how his successor behaved on this occasion—

"At the late King's funeral he behaved with great indecency. That ceremony was very well managed, and a fine sight, the military part particularly, and the Guards were magnificent. The attendance was not very numerous, and, when they had all got together in St. George's Hall, a gayer company I never beheld; with the exception of Mount Charles, who was deeply affected, they were all as merry as grigs. The King was chief mourner, and, to my astonishment, as he entered the chapel, directly behind the body, in a situation in which he should have been apparently, if not really, absorbed in the melancholy duty he was performing, he darted up to Strathaven, who was ranged on one side below the Dean's stall, shook him heartily by the hand, and then went on nodding to the right and left. He had, previously, gone as chief mourner to sit for an hour at the head of the body as it lay in state, and he walked in procession, with his household, to the apartment. I saw him pass from behind the screen. Lord Jersey had been in the morning to Bushey to kiss hands on being made Chamberlain, when he had received him very graciously, told him it was the Duke, and not himself, who had made him, but that he was delighted to have him. At Windsor, when he arrived, he gave Jersey the white wand; or, rather, took one from him he had provided for himself, and gave it him again with a little speech. When he went to sit in state, Jersey preceded him, and he said, when all was ready, 'Go on to the body, Jersey; you will get your dress coat as soon as you can.'"

Personal gossip about the King, is not the scheme (p. 13) of this book; but, as it formed the main topic of general conversation at the time, it cannot be passed over. His brother, the greatly disliked Duke of Cumberland, afterwards King of Hanover, had usurped the functions of the other colonels of the guards, and had elected himself a permanent Gold Stick, but the new monarch said his rank was too high for him to perform such service, and relegated the office to its former footing, that each colonel should share the office in turns.

Nor was this the only friction between the brothers. The Duke of Cumberland's horses had hitherto occupied the stables allotted to the Queen, and when Lord Errol, her Master of the Horse, asked her where she would have her horses stabled, she replied, she "did not know, but he was to put them in their proper place." Accordingly, the King was asked for an order to remove the duke's horses, which was given through the Duke of Leeds, who went to the Duke of Cumberland, and received for answer that "he would be d—d if they should go;" but on its being represented to him that if he did not remove them, they would be turned out, he sulkily gave way.

The King, who, as every one knows, had been brought up as a sailor, now turned his attention to things military, and his first review is thus described by Greville—

"July 20.—Yesterday was a very busy day with his Majesty, who is going much too fast, and begins to alarm his Ministers (p. 14) and astonish the world. In the morning he inspected the Coldstream Guards, dressed (for the first time in his life) in a military uniform, and with a great pair of gold spurs half way up his legs like a game-cock, although he was not to ride, for, having chalk stones in his hands, he can't hold the reins."

He next began to meddle with the uniforms, etc. in the army, doubtless with a view to save the pockets of the officers, for army dress, under George the Magnificent, had become very much gold belaced and expensive; but of all the orders issued on August 2nd from the Horse Guards, we will only take two.

(p. 15) "The moustachios of the Cavalry (excepting in the Life Guards, the Horse Guards, and the Hussars) to be abolished, and the hair of the non-commissioned officer and soldier throughout the regular force to be cut close at the sides and back of the head, instead of being worn in that bushy and unbecoming fashion adopted by some regiments."

The illustration on the opposite page is taken from a contemporary song called "Adieu, my Moustachios!" Words by T. Haynes Bayly; music by J. Blewitt, and the first verse runs thus—

Order No. 2 was as follows:—

"The four regiments of Hussars to be dressed exactly alike. Their officers to have one dress only, and that of a less costly pattern, which will forthwith be prepared."

(p. 16) Of course, this, like the former ukase, could not escape the satirist, and we have the accompanying illustration by R. S. entitled, "Raising the Wind by Royal Authority. His Majesty intends diminishing the extravagant expense of the Military Officer's dress. See the papers."

Here we see the Jew old clothesmen chaffering against each other and bargaining with Hussar Officers for their compulsorily left-off finery.

(p. 17) CHAPTER III.
1830.

The King as "bon bourgeois" — Mobbed — Street song about him — A sailor in Guildhall — Behaviour of the public at Windsor — Charles X. in England — The "New Police" — A modest advertisement.

The King affected the bon bourgeois, which, after the regal etiquette of the late King, rather astonished the lieges. The Magazine of Fashions for August, says—

Greville gives us a sketch of his bourgeoisie and its consequences—

"All this was very well; no great harm in it; more affable, less dignified than the late King; but, when this (a Privy Council) was over, and he might very well have sat himself quietly down and rested, he must needs put on his plainer clothes, and start on a ramble about the streets, alone, too. In Pall Mall he met Watson Taylor, and took his arm, and went up St. James's Street. There he was followed by a mob, making an uproar, and when he got near White's, a woman came up and kissed him. Belfast (who had been sworn in Privy Councillor in the morning), who saw this from White's, and Clinton, thought it time to interfere, and came out to attend him. The mob increased, and, always holding Mr. Taylor's arm, and flanked by Clinton and Belfast, who got shoved and kicked about, to their inexpressible wrath, he got back to the Palace, amid shouting and bawling and applause. When he got home, he asked them to go in and take a quiet walk in the garden, and said, 'Oh, never mind all this; when I have walked about a few times they will get used to it, and take no notice.'

"They even sang songs about him in the streets, of which the following is one:—

"The King and the Sailor.

"In Portsmouth town, at the sign of the Ship,
A jolly Jack Tar sat drinking flip;
A messmate was there, who spun him a yarn
That we'd a new King, he'd soon give him to larn.

"Says sailor Ben to sailor Jim,
'He's a King and a sailor trim,
And 'bout him there's no palaver or fuss,
A cause, don't you know, he is one of us.'

(p. 20) "Says sailor Ben to his messmate Jim,
'He knows that I've sailed under him;
And when our ship's paid off at Chatham,
I'll go and have a good stare at 'em.'

"Now Ben Block he arriv'd at the park,
And soon the King and Queen did mark;
Says Ben, says he, 'I'll bet you a tanner,
He hails you in a King-like manner.'

"'Ye ho!' says Ben, and he soon brought-to,
And his boatswain's whistle out he drew;
When the King turn'd round with pride and joy,
'Halloo!' says he 'what ship ahoy?'

"Now Ben, he answered with a grin,
'The Royal Charlotte I've sailed in;
She was nam'd arter your royal mother,
Whose great and glorious son you are!'

The King the hand of Ben he shook,
And said, 'At that time I was a Mid;'
Then Ben lugged out his 'bacca box,
And said to the King, 'Come, take a quid.'

(p. 21) "'If you won't, the Queen may like a bit,
Mayhap, like one of the Indian squaws;'
So he scrap'd up to her, and offered his box,
'No, thank ye,' says she, 'I never chaws.'

"The King, he gave promotion to Ben,
So he thought that he'd steer back again;
But the Queen, he thought he first would tell her,
'That her husband, the King, was a d—d good fellow'!"

Par parenthèse, here is a story of a sailor (Times, August 9th)—

(p. 23) As a specimen of the manners of the age (and I cannot see that they have greatly improved now), we may take the following extract from a private letter, dated Windsor, August 15th:—

"You would perceive, from the newspapers, that the Grand Terrace was thrown open to the public yesterday week. From the walk immediately under the castle you may see portions of the magnificent rooms—the splendid ceilings, window drapery, and chandeliers. I was delighted with the sight, and again visited the terrace on Sunday. The terrace was then crowded, and I am sorry to add, English-like, some of the people, (of the lower class, certainly) had behaved so ill, that the public were excluded from that part adjoining the building. Some of the creatures who abused the privilege thus extended to the public, not only ascended the steps leading to the state apartments, but actually climbed up into the windows to look into the rooms, thus intruding their rudeness on the King. It is said that his Majesty himself, from a window, saw a person writing his name on one of the statues, and observed on the occasion, 'I shall be compelled to do as my brother did, exclude the public from this part, if such conduct is continued.' The grass was all trampled and injured, the people would not confine themselves to the gravel walks."

By the way, about this time, the King gave the Zoological Society the whole of the collection of beasts and birds belonging to the late King, amounting to 150.

England has frequently afforded shelter to unfortunate princes—notably, in late times, to Louis XVIII., who resided at Hartwell, in Buckinghamshire—and now another French King, Charles X., sought her protection, arriving at Portsmouth on (p. 24) August 17th, and proceeding to Lulworth in Dorsetshire, where he was welcomed at the castle, which was placed at his disposal by Joseph Weld, Esq., a relative of the cardinal of that name. Here he remained some time, afterwards residing at Holyrood Palace, and finally retired to Austria, where he died.

On June 19, 1829, the King said "Le Roi le veult" to an Act of Parliament (10 Geo. IV. c. 44) entitled "An Act for improving the Police in and near the Metropolis"—the present Police Act—introduced by Sir Robert Peel, from which fact the policemen were called "Bobbies" and "Peelers." They commenced duty on September 29, 1829, and were, at first, extremely unpopular, because of their strictness, compared to the Bow Street runners, patrols, and night watchmen. The parishes complained bitterly of the increased expense, but they forgot how much better they were guarded. It was also alleged that there were too few policemen distributed over certain districts, and too many in others; but that was a defect in administration almost certain to occur at first start, which experience afterwards rectified. Perhaps, also, the best men were not chosen, as the force was not so popular as now, when none but men of unblemished character are admitted, whilst as to the present physique of the over fifteen thousand Metropolitan Police, any general would be proud of such a division, which is utterly unattainable in any army.

Here is a sketch of the uniform of the "New (p. 25) Police" as they were called, copied from a satirical print of Sir Robert Peel, by the celebrated H. B. (John Doyle, father of Richard Doyle, to whom Punch owed so much). The hats were worn until a comparatively recent period, and in summer-time they wore white trousers.

The following extract from the Times of September 16th gives an account of the police as they (p. 26) were at the expiration of twelve months from their inauguration:—

"There are 16 divisions of the police, and each division contains, on an average, 200 men, except the K division, which contains 32; there are also, in each division, six inspectors and one superintendent. The whole number of privates and sergeants alone amounts to 3600, without reckoning the inspectors and superintendents. The greater part of this large body of men were necessarily taken from the lower classes of the people, and it can readily be believed that the Commissioners were unable to make strict inquiry into every individual case, and yet there have been very few bona fide cases of improper behaviour on the part of the men. In each division there is a defaulter-book, in which the names of the men considered unfit for duty are written down and shown to the Commissioners, and they are immediately discharged."

The subjoined advertisement, which is singular, from the modesty of its diction, appeared in the Times of September 15th, and, as in the scheme of this book there is no special place set apart for such, it may as well come in here in order of chronology.

"A youth who has completed his 18th year within 100 hours of his writing this advertisement, wishing to make head against the res angusta domi, hereby TENDERS his CAPACITIES to any honourable patronage which the chapter of accidents may raise up in his behoof. Born to better hopes, his bringing up has not been wholly neglected, and he would fain apply some of the little items of his unpretending culture towards honest advancement in a life which even his short experience has proved to be not altogether unchequered—the mind's eye irresistably glancing at an example which recent events have revived and made too memorable to be overlooked by such a votary to fortune as the advertiser; to wit, the august example of King Philip the first,[6] who when, in "the turns of chance below," even (p. 27) his star was dimmed, did not disdain to extract independent maintenance from knowledge which, in his early days, he had learnt as mere ornament. Far from aiming, like the variously accomplished Duke of Orleans, at geometry, or the sublimer sciences, the humble advertiser ventures to hope that his tolerable, hourly improving fluency in French, Italian, and modern Greek (the latter language now become of increased English interest from the increase of English colonization in the Mediterranean), would enable him to give lessons, and materially conduce to perfect pupils in each of these branches, at most moderate remuneration. That same Mediterranean has been the sad cause of this advertisement. Nearly 1900 years after the prince of Latian poets wrote his description of the storm which, all but, engulfed Æneas and his followers—that description which, from Homer to Shakespeare, from Shakespeare to the present hour, the universe of poetry has never equalled—even in that very part of that very sea, a sudden springing up of that wind, which, though the desire and delight of northern regions, is proverbial for storms (creber procellis Africus) not confined to illustrating the poet's text, in abruptly shrouding a shipful of 'noble creatures' from the sight of the clouds, from the face of heaven and the light of day, not confined to a presentiment of instant death to all on shipboard, but in rending reality, depriving every soul of clouds, of light and life, by sinking the whole in fell ocean, without a single survivor—the advertiser's dear father (an English functionary in the Ionian Islands) being one of the sufferers—leaving his son a burden, where he would be an alleviator, to the most affectionate of mothers. A statement of other capabilities, penmanship, arithmetic, etc., is forborne, because they may be implied. Indeed, friends, too partial, no doubt, imagine that to any mission, especially southward, the advertiser might be a not ineligible appendage. At all events, he thus adventures his speculation, trusting its result to 'the caterer for the sparrow.'"

(p. 28) CHAPTER IV.
1830.

Opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway — Death of Mr. Huskisson — Agricultural lawlessness — Captain Swing — Executions for riot — Riots throughout the country — Special Commissions — Prayer to be used in churches and chapels.

About this time a melancholy but all-absorbing topic of conversation was the death of Mr. Wm. Huskisson, one of the M.P.'s for Liverpool; and the most succinct account I can find of this sad accident is in the Annual Register. It happened on September 15th, at the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway.

He was buried at Liverpool on September 24th, receiving a magnificent funeral, in the presence of about twenty thousand people.

Now began a reign of agricultural lawlessness, and first at Otmoor in Oxfordshire, which arose from the draining and enclosing of some two thousand acres, over which seven neighbouring townships had right of common. The land was of little value, being very marshy, and a proper Act of Parliament had been obtained for its reclamation, which was partially effected, when the commoners rose, and set about destroying fences, embankments, etc. Two regiments (p. 33) of yeomanry were sent to put down the uprising, and, after the Riot Act was read, some sixty prisoners were made. These were put into waggons and carts, and taken to Oxford, there to be lodged in gaol. But St. Giles's fair happened to be on at Oxford, and the country folk there assembled fell upon the yeomanry and rescued the captives; only temporarily, however, for a detachment of soldiers was afterwards sent down by Government, and many of the rioters were apprehended.

This was only the outcome of an ignorant population, who fancied they were being deprived of their ancient rights, whereas it was really done for their benefit, and would hardly merit notice did it not show the uneasiness of the agricultural mind at this period. Captain Swing was abroad, and the red glow of rick-burning was spreading through the land, notably, at that time, in Kent. The very next paragraph in the Times of September 8th, to the account of the Otmoor riots, is about alarming incendiary fires at Orpington and its neighbourhood, in which barns and outhouses, stacks of corn and hay, were destroyed. Nay, the miscreants did not stop there. They attempted to terrorize by means of anonymous letters, in which not only the burning of more property was threatened, but the destruction of house, owner, and family.

Sometimes, but not often, the wretches were caught, and then little mercy was shown them, as in a case in Somersetshire, where the High Sheriff (p. 34) hanged three men convicted of this offence, on gallows erected on the spot where the crime had been committed, the gallows bearing an inscription in large letters, so that all might read: "For Firing Stacks." Over fifteen thousand people witnessed this execution.

Several men were arrested as being Captain Swing, whose signature was always attached to the threatening notices; but there is every reason to believe that no such entity existed. Here is his fancy portrait, drawn by Heath, entitled "Swing! taken from the life. Dedicated to Messrs. Cobbett, Carlisle and Co."

To show somewhat of the terrorism of this name (p. 35) at that time, I quote from the Kentish Gazette of October 9th—

"Anonymous letters, signed 'Swing,' have been received by post, by two individuals at Dover, threatening the destruction of their premises by fire, which has caused great alarm in their families. The dead walls, all through the town, and for some miles on the road to Canterbury, all bear the same significant word 'Swing,' written in chalk."

The newspapers of the day teem with notices of outrages, particularly during the last three months of the year. A very good and terse account of these agricultural riots is in the Annual Register, pp. 149, 150.

"The disturbances began in Kent. The rioters did not assume the character of disorderly mobs, nor did they profess to seek any political objects. They appeared, at first, as lurking incendiaries, and wreaked their vengeance on property, the destruction of which could only aggravate the causes of their misery. Night after night, new conflagrations were lighted up by bands of incendiaries; corn stacks, barns, farm buildings, live stock, were consumed indiscriminately. Bolder bands attacked mills, and demolished the machinery; and all threshing-machines, in particular, were condemned. Threatening letters were circulated, demanding the raising of wages, or the disuse of the machinery; and the nightly exploits of the writers insured attention to their demands. The first of the rioters who were seized, and tried before the County Magistrates, were treated with undue lenity. Commiseration for starving labourers was commendable; but it could not be want which induced men to destroy the materials of food. During October, November, and December, but more particularly the two former months, it made its way from Kent into the counties of Hants, Wilts, Bucks, Sussex, and Surrey. Throughout the whole of that district of the country, all protection for property seemed to be at an end. Bands of rioters pillaged and destroyed during (p. 36) the day; and, as soon as night fell, simultaneous conflagrations, starting up in different quarters, spread over the country havoc and dismay. The military force in the disturbed counties was increased, a proclamation was issued offering a reward of £500 for the conviction of any person engaged in the fire raisings; and a Special Commission was ordered to proceed into the Shires where the outrages were committed."

These Special Commissions were held in December, and many were the sentences of death recorded against the worst of the rioters, although but few were carried out. The first victims to the outraged majesty of the law were three men, found guilty at the Maidstone Assizes, who were hanged for arson on Penenden Heath. Nor was it only by the strong arm of the law that order was attempted to be restored, the help of the Almighty was also invoked in furtherance of that end. A supplement to the Gazette of the 24th of December, contained an Order in Council, that the Archbishop of Canterbury do prepare forms of prayer to Almighty God, on account of the troubled state of certain parts of the United Kingdom; and another for reading the same in all the Episcopal Churches and Chapels in England and Scotland. In consequence of this Order, a form of prayer was issued, which the curious in those things may read in the Times of December 28th, to be used immediately before the Litany, and when the Litany was not read, before the prayer for all conditions of men, in all cathedrals, collegiate and parochial churches and chapels in England and Ireland.

(p. 37) CHAPTER V.
1830.

Duke of Wellington mobbed and stoned — Owing to riots, the King postponed his visit to the city — No Lord Mayor's show, nor dinner — Riots in the city — Apsley House besieged — Ireland proclaimed — Ferment in the country — Change of Ministry — Royal succession — Scotch regalia — Curious story of a bank-note.

Rioting was not confined to the country. The cry of parliamentary reform was exciting the great towns, and especially London. On November 2nd, when the King went to open Parliament, the Duke of Wellington was mobbed in the Park, and struck on the cheek with a stone. The King and Queen were going to dine at Guildhall on Lord Mayor's day, November 9th, and all was prepared for the banquet, but, on the 7th, the Duke of Wellington received the following letter:—

Other communications to a similar effect were made to the Ministers; and in the evening of the 7th the following letter was received by the Lord Mayor, from Sir Robert Peel:—

A deputation from the committee appointed to superintend the entertainment waited upon his Majesty's ministers three times on Tuesday; and the Duke of Wellington plainly told them that there was but one of two courses to be adopted—the postponement of the visit, or the alternative of bringing a large body of military into the City.

The effect of Sir Robert Peel's letter upon the minds of the citizens was beyond description. Men hastened to purchase arms, and to secure the fastenings of their houses, as if there was going to be an armed rebellion. On the 8th, consols fell three per cent. in about an hour and a half, whilst the streets were choked with busy crowds, listening to and spreading all sorts of alarming rumours. The prevailing one was that it was intended to allow the procession to return to the Guildhall unmolested, but that, in the evening, the passage of Temple Bar and the bridges should have been barricaded, the gas-pipes cut off, and, under the cloud of darkness, an indiscriminate plunder of the City take place.

The new Lord Mayor proclaimed that neither the usual procession, nor the banquet would take place, and, accordingly, there were neither this year. And (p. 40) well it was that it was so, for there would assuredly have been a riot; as it was, it was bad enough, as we see from the following account taken from the Annual Register:—

The whole country was in a state of ferment. In Ireland, the feeling for repeal of the Union was so strong, that the Duke of Northumberland, as Lord Lieutenant, issued a proclamation putting in force (p. 44) the Act (10 George IV. c. 1) entitled, "An Act for the Suppression of dangerous Associations or Assemblies in Ireland." And the Leeds Intelligencer (quoted in the Times of October 23rd) says—

"We observe that fears are expressed in some of the Metropolitan papers, that disturbances are on the point of breaking out in the North. It was reported in the City, on Monday afternoon, the Standard tells us, 'that a reinforcement of troops had been demanded for Cumberland, in consequence of symptoms of dissatisfaction having appeared among the colliers. Two regiments, they state, are to start from Portsmouth. Artillery, also, it is said, has been ordered from Woolwich, on Friday, for the North. The state of the collieries and manufacturing districts in that part of England is alarming.' Our information does not at all bear out this alarming statement. Except some Radical demonstrations at Carlisle, such as threats, political nocturnal trainings, and a supposed secret preparation of pikes—young trees having been cut down in various places—we hear of nothing which should cause a sudden movement of troops. Certain, however, it is, that an augmentation of force is taking place in the North. The detachment of artillery stationed in Leeds for about a year past, marched for Newcastle on Monday morning."

Space prevents my giving any more about the riotous state of the country during this year, exception only being made to the following excerpt from the "Greville Memoirs":—

"December 1.—The last two or three days have produced no remarkable outrages, and, though the state of the country is still dreadful, it is rather better on the whole, than it was; but London is like the capital of a country desolated by cruel war, or foreign invasion, and we are always looking for reports of battles, burnings, and other disorders. Wherever there has been anything like fighting, the mob has always been beaten, and has shown the greatest cowardice. They do not, however, seem to have been (p. 45) actuated by a very ferocious spirit; and, considering the disorders of the times, it is remarkable that they have not been more violent and rapacious. Lord Craven, who is just of age, with three or four more young Lords, his friends, defeated and dispersed them in Hampshire. They broke into the Duke of Beaufort's house at Heythrop, but he and his sons got them out without mischief, and, afterwards, took some of them. On Monday, as the field which had been out with the King's hounds were returning to town, they were summoned to assist in quelling a riot at Woburn, which they did; the gentlemen charged and broke the people, and took some of them; and, fortunately, some troops came up to secure the prisoners. The alarm, however, still continues, and a feverish anxiety about the future universally prevails, for no man can foresee what course events will take, nor how his own individual circumstances may be affected by them."

The Houses of Parliament were dissolved on July 23rd, and re-assembled on October 26th. On November 15th, the Ministry were defeated over the Civil List by a majority of twenty-nine, and on the next day the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel resigned, and were succeeded by a Ministry, at the head of which was Earl Grey. On the 15th, the Lord Chancellor (Lord Lyndhurst) moved the appointment of a Regency in case of the death of the King before the Princess Victoria arrived at the age of eighteen. He said that the Bill which he was about to propose, provided that, in the event of a posthumous child, her Majesty the Queen should be guardian and regent during the minority; and that her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent should be guardian and regent during the minority of the Princess Victoria; subject to be superseded in the regency, in the case of the birth of a posthumous child. An amendment was (p. 46) afterwards introduced, to the effect that the Princess Victoria should not marry, while a minor, without the consent of the King; or, in the event of his death, without the consent of both Houses of Parliament; and that, if the Duchess of Kent, while regent, married a foreigner, she should lose the regency. This Bill became law on December 23rd, and is know as 1 Gul. IV. c. 2.

In December, the King sent to Scotland, for the purpose of being deposited with the regalia, in the Crown-room of Edinburgh Castle, a beautiful massive gold collar of the Garter, with rose diamond and enamelled George, left to the King (George IV.) by Cardinal York, the last of the royal line of Stuarts; and an ancient rose diamond badge of St. Andrew, and a sapphire ring, set round with brilliants, being Charles the First's coronation ring. The former of these jewels (which weighs about three pounds), was presented to James VI. by his queen, and was worn by that monarch.

I wind up the year with a very curious story of a bank-note. The Carlisle Patriot quoted in the Times of December 29, says—

"We mentioned in our last that a £5 Bank of England note had been received by a mercantile house in Liverpool, on the back of which were written the following words: 'If this note gets into the hand of John Dean, of Long Hills, near Carlisle, his brother Andrew is a prisoner in Algiers.' The paragraph was read by a person in Carlisle, who knew Andrew Dean, and is acquainted with his brother, John Dean's, family, who are residing at Longtown. John Dean's son was in Carlisle on Thursday last, and (p. 47) heard of the paragraph from the person above alluded to; he called at this office, in company with a friend, and, from what he related of his uncle, there is every reason to believe that he is the Andrew Dean, whose imprisonment in a distant country has, by this singular means, been made known to his friends in England. Andrew Dean, it appears, was formerly in the British navy, which he left some time ago, and settled in business in Algiers. Communications will be made to the Liverpool house, and also to Sir James Graham (First Lord of the Admiralty), to ask his assistance in the interesting inquiry."

I can trace no more about it; but it was pointed out that the Ironmongers' Company has a fund of enormous amount, purposely reserved for the liberation of captives in Barbary.

Here are some bonnets and fashions worn in 1830. Two walking dresses, one evening, and one ball dress.

(p. 49) CHAPTER VI.
1831.

Incendiary fires — Captain Swing — The result of Cobbett's lectures — Special Commission — Prosecution of Carlile — Election expenses — List of Close boroughs — Collapse of Reform Bill — The King stoned — Debût of Princess Victoria — The Times and the House of Lords — Bribery at elections — Action for libel — "The King v. Cobbett" — Prince Leopold made King of the Belgians.

"The Red Cock" still crowed, and incendiary fires were still the order of the day, in spite of the commissions to examine the numerous prisoners in several counties. Captain Swing was rampant, and his letters, if not always logical, as in the following instance, were very numerous. The Exeter Gazette, quoted in the Times of January 3rd, says—

Cobbett's lectures and writings undoubtedly influenced the minds of the ignorant agricultural labourer, and one man, under sentence of death for incendiarism at Battle, wrote the following confession:—

There was a very curious case connected with these agrarian riots, which occurred at the Special Commission at Salisbury, where Isaac Locker was indicted for sending a threatening letter to John Rowland, in these words—

"Mr. Rowland, Haxford Farm.—Hif you goes to sware (p. 51) against or a man in prisson, you have here farm burnt down to ground, and thy bluddy head chopt off."

Some evidence was produced to show that the prisoner, in his conversation, had justified the machine-breakers and fire-raisers, and that the magistrates and military, who disturbed the proceedings of the mobs, were the only breakers of the peace; but the case turned on the question, whether the letter was in the handwriting of the prisoner. Locker was found guilty, and the judge, in spite of the man's asseverations of his innocence, sentenced him to transportation for life.

The judge and jury retired for some refreshment, and in their absence, the man's son, Edward Locker, came forward and declared that he had written that and other letters. The judge expressed his surprise that this evidence had not been brought before him previously, and proceeded to try the prisoner on two similar indictments, when his son got into the witness box and testified that the letters were in his handwriting. The trial ended in the father's acquittal on those two counts, and the judge said that he would lose no time in getting the former conviction and sentenced quashed. An indictment was immediately prepared, and found against the son, to which he pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to transportation for seven years.

The Special Commission ended its labours on the 15th of January, having hanged many rioters, and (p. 52) sentenced very many more to long terms of transportation.

Besides Cobbett, there was a noted atheist, named Richard Carlile, who is still looked upon as a persecuted martyr by Freethinkers. On the 10th of January, he was indicted at the Old Bailey for having written and published two seditious libels—one tending to bring the Crown into disrepute, and the other, which was addressed to the insurgent agricultural labourers, tending to produce an insurrection among the labouring and agricultural population. He was acquitted on the first, but found guilty on the second count, and he was sentenced to pay a fine to the King of £200, be imprisoned in the Compter of the City for the space of two years, and at the expiration of that time, to find sureties for ten years to come, himself in £500, and two sureties in £250 each, and to be imprisoned until such fine was paid, and such sureties provided.

The question of the reform of Parliament was now taken in hand seriously, and it was not before it was needed. The expenses attendant on elections were something enormous. The Leeds Mercury, quoted in the Times of August 30, 1830, speaking of the county of Yorkshire, says—

"At the great contested Election of 1807 the expenses of the three candidates amounted to a quarter of a million—and, at the Election for 1826, when there was no contest, but only a preparation for one, the four candidates had to pay £150,000."

An example of how the money went may be (p. 53) found in the election bills of the Hon. S. Wortley, in contesting Forfarshire, in 1830. One dinner bill is thus—

And here is one of his tavern bills.

And the representation wanted a thorough reorganization, as may be seen by the following list of close boroughs which were intended to be disfranchised, with the number of voters in each:—

For the following list it was proposed to have only one member:—

Lord John Russell prepared the first Reform Bill, and introduced it into Parliament on March 1st. The (p. 56) first division for the second reading was taken on March 22nd, the numbers for, 302; against, 301. Majority 1. General Gascoyne, on the motion for a committee, moved the following amendment: "That the number of representatives for England and Wales ought not to be diminished," which was carried by 299 to 291. Of course, after this, there was nothing to be done but dissolve Parliament at the earliest period possible, and this the King did on April 22nd.

The King on this occasion was loudly cheered, but it was not always so—for Greville records under date of February, that—

"The King went to the play the night before last; was well received in the house, but hooted and pelted coming home, and a stone shivered a window of his coach, and fell into Prince George of Cumberland's lap. The King was excessively annoyed, and sent for Baring, who was the officer riding by his coach, and asked him if he knew who had thrown the stone; he said it terrified the Queen, and was very disagreeable, as he should always be going somewhere."

On the 24th of February the Queen's birthday drawing-room was held, at which the Princess Victoria made her debût in society. The following is the official account by the Court newsman:—

"Their Royal Highnesses, the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria, with their suite, came in state, in three carriages, escorted by a party of the Life Guards. Their Royal Highnesses were attended by the Duchess of Northumberland, Lady Charlotte St. Maur, Lady Catherine Jenkinson, the Hon. Mrs. Cust, Lady Conroy, Baroness Lehzen, Sir John Conroy, and (p. 57) General Wetherall. The dresses of their Royal Highnesses were made entirely of articles manufactured in the United Kingdom. The Duchess's robe was of silk embroidered with silver, and was made in Spitalfields; the train was of Irish poplin, blue figured with silver. The Princess Victoria was dressed with great simplicity in a frock of English blonde.... The Princess Victoria stood to the left of her Majesty."

We next find the Princess and her mother at Covent Garden Theatre on April 14, witnessing the performance of Spohr's Opera Zamira and Azor.

Before the dissolution of Parliament, the Times newspaper got into a scrape with the House of Lords on account of some remarks in its issues of April 15th, which were as follows:—

"Yet mean, cruel, and atrocious as every civilized mind must consider the doctrine, that Ireland has no need of poor laws, or some equivalent for them,—hateful and abominable as is such a screen for inhumanity,—there are men, or things with human pretensions, nay, with lofty privileges, who do not blush to treat the mere proposal of establishing a fund for the relief of the diseased or helpless Irish, with brutal ridicule and almost impious scorn. Would any man credit that an Irish absentee Lord could say what he is reported to have uttered in the House of Peers last night, when Lord Roseberry presented a petition, praying that a compulsory tax on land might be introduced into Ireland, towards alleviating her poor? We shall not name him, because the House of Lords is armed with a thing called a 'Bar' and other disagreeable appendages. But there are members of that House who surprise nobody by declaring their indifference to 'popular odium'—especially when they are at such a distance from Ireland as to ensure the safety of their persons."

The peer alluded to was the Earl of Limerick, who moved, on the 18th of April, "That the editor of (p. 58) the Times newspaper be ordered to attend at the bar of that House to-morrow." The legal citation would be on the printer, and, accordingly, on the 19th Mr. Lawson attended, and a debate ensued, at the end of which he was ordered into custody of the Usher of the Black Rod, to be produced next morning, and was taken by two messengers of the House to Oliver's Coffee House, where he was kept in durance. But, before their lordships met, he sent them a petition—

"That your petitioner feels the sincerest regret at having given offence to your right honourable House, and to the Earl of Limerick in particular, and craves pardon for the same; and humbly begs, in consequence of this acknowledgment of his error and regret, he may be set at liberty by your right honourable House."

All that day, and a great part of the next, the House debated upon the crime of this wicked man, until it came to the conclusion that the Lord Chancellor should reprimand and discharge him, which was accordingly done; and the Times, in revenge, on the 26th of April, published the following:—

The elections for the new Parliament now engaged the popular attention; and, as elections were conducted in the "good old times" on very different principles than at present, one or two little items respecting them may be acceptable. Times, May 10th.

Again (ib., May 11th), quoting the Scotsman:—

"Strange stories are abroad as to the sale of services at the election for the City of Edinburgh. Two persons are named as having received round sums; and the daughter of one of them, when asked by some civic functionaries of a humble class whether her father had not received £500, is said to have answered, 'No; he only received £300.'"

In connection with electioneering, there was a curious action for libel tried on June 18th, at the Court of King's Bench, before Lord Tenterden and a jury. It arose out of certain proceedings at Great Grimsby, during the General Election in 1830. The plaintiff was lieutenant of the Greyhound Revenue cutter; the defendant, an attorney at Great Grimsby. The libel was the following letter, dated from Great (p. 60) Grimsby, and published in some of the London papers. The blues were the Whig party; the reds, their opponents:—

"At the late election, some extraordinary interferences took place on the part of the persons employed in his Majesty's Revenue Service here. The Collector of the Customs was observed to join in the parade of the red party, and in its greetings and huzzas. His Majesty's Revenue cutters, Greyhound and Lapwing, landed from seventy to eighty of their crews, who kicked up occasional rows, to intimidate the peaceful inhabitants and the blue party; and in one of these, which became a serious riot and affray, they were actually led on by one of their commanders, Lieutenant Howe, of the Greyhound. This gentleman canvassed for the reds, attended their parades in their uniform, and wore a red ribbon, the cognizance of the party his efforts were intended to support. Several sailors were employed to erect a booth in front of the lodgings of the red candidates. A top-mast from the stores of the Greyhound was raised up, to which a stage was fixed, for the red candidates to make speeches from. Custom House flags were carried in the red parades, and hung out of public-houses in the red interest, and a Custom House ensign was suspended from the top-mast in front of the red candidates lodgings. The Greyhound was laid in the Humber, about two miles from Grimsby, to receive such of the blue party as could be made intoxicated, and kidnapped on board her; and two of them were actually confined there until the election was over. Are such things tolerated by Government?"

This letter, with the exception of the passage in italics, was published in the Globe of August 6, 1830. A similar letter, with that passage included, was published in the Courier on the 20th of the same month. Evidence was given confirming the truth of the libel in every respect, whilst Captain Harris and Colonel Challoner, the red candidates, stated that they (p. 61) and the plaintiff did every thing in their power to prevent disturbance, though the attack was commenced by the blue party. These and several other witnesses went into details in contradiction to the testimony of the defendant's witnesses, but the jury found for the plaintiff, damages £10.

There was a law case much talked about at this time. The King v. Cobbett, tried before Lord Tenterden, in Court of King's Bench, on 7th July. It was an action against the notorious William Cobbett, charging with the publication, in the Weekly Political Register, of December 11, 1830, of a libel, with intent to raise discontent in the minds of the labourers in husbandry, and to incite them to acts of violence, and to destroy corn, machinery, and other property. The trial lasted all day, and as the jury could not agree, they were locked up all night. Lord Tenterden came to Court next morning, at eight o'clock, and finding that the jury, after having been locked up for fifteen hours, could not agree, discharged them.

On July 16th, Prince Leopold, the husband of the late Princess Charlotte, left London for Brussels, having been made King of the Belgians.

(p. 62) CHAPTER VII.
1831.

Opening of New London Bridge — After the luncheon — State of the waiters — Provision for the Princess Victoria — Sale of Sir Walter Scott's MSS. — The coronation — Its expenses — A "half crownation" — The Lord Mayor and his gold cup.

The next subject for general conversation was the opening of New London Bridge, on August 1st, by the King and Queen, who went in State by water from Somerset House, which must have been a beautiful sight, as any one who can remember the civic water pageant on Lord Mayor's Day can imagine.

The following contemporary account, which is the shortest I can find, is from the Annual Register:—

"At three o'clock, the hoisting of the Royal standard of England over the centre of Somerset House, announced the arrival of their Majesties, and was followed by discharges of cannon of all sorts from the wharves and barges. When the King and Queen appeared on the steps descending to the platform from which they were to embark, the cheers from the crowd was almost deafening. The awnings of the barges had been removed by his Majesty's desire, so that a full view of the Royal party could be obtained throughout the whole line.

"It was past four o'clock before the Royal barges reached the bridge. An awning had been thrown halfway over the bridge. On the London side, adjacent to the side of Old Fishmongers' (p. 63) Hall, was erected a splendid pavilion. This was the position allotted to their Majesties, the Royal suite, the Civic authorities, and the more distinguished of the company. The pavilion was constructed of standards that had, formerly, waved over the armies of almost every civilized nation in the world. The breadth of it was equal to that of the bridge. Its form was quadrangular, and, at the four corners, were placed, upon raised broad pedestals, groups of men in armour. The pillars which supported the royal pavilion were adorned with flags, shields, helmets, and massive swords. Their Majesties' seats were beneath a gorgeous canopy of state of crimson cloth, the back of which was formed of plate glass.

"To the right and left of this canopy were places for the members of the Royal family, the ministers, and many of the nobility. From the ends of the principal table, and at right angles to it, ran two other narrow tables, which were reserved for civic authorities and members of Parliament. No other tables were placed in the royal pavilion, and thus a large open space was preserved in front of their Majesties, whose view of the whole of the company under the awning was free and unobstructed, except for the drapery which formed the front of the tent....

"The stairs on the London side of the bridge had been covered with crimson cloth, and at the bottom of these stairs, their Majesties were received with all the formalities usual upon the occasion of royal visits to the City. The King was handed out of his barge by Mr. Routh, who gave his Majesty his arm. Mr. Jones, as chairman of the 'New London Bridge Committee,' was present to receive her Majesty on her landing. Upon stepping ashore, the King addressed these gentlemen in the following words: 'Mr. Jones and Mr. Routh, I am very glad to see you on London bridge. It is, certainly, a most beautiful edifice; and the spectacle is the grandest and most delightful, in every respect, that I ever had the pleasure to witness.' His Majesty then paused to survey the scene around him. At this moment the air was rent with the most deafening cheers on all sides, and the King, taking off his hat, acknowledged this hearty greeting of his subjects by repeated bows.

Opening of New London Bridge, August 1, 1831.

"Their Majesties proceeded to the top of the stairs, where the sword and keys of the City were tendered to the King by the Lord (p. 65) Mayor, and, on returning them, his Majesty signified his wish that they should remain in his Lordship's hands. The Chairman of the Committee then presented his Majesty with a gold medal, commemorative of the opening of the bridge, having, on one side, an impression of the King's head, and, on the reverse, a view of the new bridge, with the dates of the present ceremony, and of the laying of the first stone. As soon as these formalities had been completed, the whole of the Royal party had assembled in the pavilion, their Majesties proceeded to the end of the bridge, attended by their Royal Highnesses, the Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex, and by the principal members of the Royal family. The officers of the Royal household, nearly all the ministers, and a vast number of the nobility, and of the members of the House of Commons, composed the Royal procession. In going to, and returning from the Surrey end of the bridge, their Majesties threw medals to the spectators on each side of them.

"As soon as it was announced that his Majesty was approaching the bridge, Mr. Green had caused his balloon to be filled, and just as the Royal procession had reached the Surrey side of the bridge, Mr. Green made his ascent. His Majesty showed himself from the parapets on either side of the bridge to the assembled multitudes below.

"After the conclusion of this ceremony, the Royal party returned to the pavilion, where a cold collation was laid out. A similar repast was served up to the guests at all the other tables. After the healths of the King and Queen had been drank, amid loud acclamations, the Lord Mayor presented a gold cup of great beauty to the King, who said, taking the cup, 'I cannot but refer, on this occasion, to the great work which has been accomplished by the citizens of London. The City of London has been renowned for its magnificent improvements, and we are commemorating a most extraordinary instance of their skill and talent. I shall propose the source whence this vast improvement sprung. 'The trade and commerce of the City of London.' The King then drank of what is called the 'loving cup,' of which every other member of the Royal family partook.

"At six o'clock their Majesties re-embarked, amidst the same loud cheering, firing of artillery, ringing of bells, and other marks of respect which had marked their progress down."

(p. 66) As a pendant to this picture, let us read a paragraph out of the Times of August 4th:—

"Rather an odd picture presented itself under the pavilion on Monday night. The wines, it was well known by all who partook of the hospitality of the Directors of the Bridge House Estates, out of which all the expenses of the magnificent entertainment are to be defrayed, were most abundantly supplied. Several of the waiters, over whom nobody seemed to have any control, after the bulk of the company had departed, took care to appropriate the champagne and hock in such a manner that the Aldermen and other members of the Committee looked about in vain for a bottle. Mr. Oldham, the Chairman of the Royal Entertainment Committee, who was upon his legs all day, in attendance upon their Majesties, was obliged, at the conclusion of the feast, to beg, for God's sake, for a glass of wine out of a bottle, which a gentleman had taken out of a waiter's hiding-place; and Sir Claudius S. Hunter, after running about for some time, to accommodate a few of his female friends, was obliged, at last, to 'give it up.' In the meantime, the wine was, every moment, sent forth from the cellar in abundance. In a little while, however, the cause of the deficiency was discovered. The Marshals, in going round, perceived that almost all the waiters were blind drunk, and they moved them, by dozens, from the scene of festivity, amid the laughter of the crowds at the barriers. The fact is, that the waiters employed upon this occasion were all trustworthy persons, many of them the proprietors of respectable taverns; and they calculated that, as through their means the plate and other property were all safe, the least they could do was to drink their Majesties health in overwhelming bumpers."

On the day following the royal visit, the bridge was thrown open to the public, and it was computed that about 200,000 people passed over it from the London side.

The next thing that gave people something to talk about, was the King's message to Parliament (p. 67) respecting a suitable maintenance for the heir-presumptive to the throne. This he did on August 2nd, as follows:—

"William, R.—His Majesty, taking into consideration that since the Parliament had made a provision for the support of her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Alexandrina Victoria of Kent, circumstances have arisen which make it proper that a more adequate provision should be made for Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, and for the honourable support and education of her Highness the Princess Alexandrina Victoria of Kent, recommends the consideration thereof to this House, and relies on the attachment of his faithful Commons to adopt such measures as may be suitable to the occasion."

Accordingly, next day, the House of Commons went into committee on the matter, and Lord Althorp (Chancellor of the Exchequer), in a short speech, compared the situation, as heirs to the throne, of the Princess Charlotte and the Princess Victoria. He pointed out that upon the birth of the Princess Charlotte, the Princess of Wales received £6000 a year for her maintenance; and that, in 1806, the sum was raised to £7000, to be paid out of the Consolidated Fund. In addition to this, the Princess Charlotte was paid a sum of £34,000 out of the Droits of the Admiralty, and received £9777 from the Civil List. Upon the whole, the income received by the Princess Charlotte, from the tenth year of her age, amounted to £17,000 a year. In 1825 the sum of £6000 was granted for the support of the Princess Victoria, and that was all that had been voted by the public for her maintenance. It was his duty to make (p. 68) a proposition for the future support and maintenance of the Princess Victoria, and it was his intention to follow the precedent of 1825, and to vote the money to her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, to be by her applied to the support and education of her daughter.

The amount of income received by the Duchess of Kent was £6000 a year, an allowance settled upon her at the time of her marriage, and a further sum of £6000 which she received on account of the Princess Victoria. He proposed that £10,000 a year be added to this income, which would make the whole allowance received by the Duchess of Kent, £22,000; namely, £6000 for the Duchess herself, and the remaining £16,000 for the maintenance of the Princess Victoria. He, therefore, proposed the following resolution:—

"That it is the opinion of this Committee, that his Majesty should be enabled to grant a yearly sum, not exceeding £10,000 out of the Consolidated Funds of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, for a more adequate provision for her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, and the honourable support and education of her Royal Highness the Princess Alexandrina Victoria of Kent; and the said yearly sum to be paid from the 5th of January, 1831."

To this there was no objection made by any member of whatever shade of politics he might be; indeed all said they would heartily support it, save one. Henry Hunt, the radical member for Preston, who, "feeling that he should not do his duty to his constituents if he did not oppose every kind of (p. 69) extravagance, he moved, as an amendment to the resolution, to substitute £5000 for £10,000." But in the end, on a division of the committee on this amendment, the numbers were—Ayes, 0; Noes, 223; majority, 223. The Bill received the Royal Assent September 6th, 1831, and is known in the Statute book as 1 and 2 Gul. IV. c. 20.

Apropos of this, there was a little joke, in the shape of a drawing by H. B., which can neither be placed as a satirical print, nor a caricature, but is a simple bit of pure fun. About the time of this discussion, the Bishopric of Derry was vacant, value about £11,000 a year, and it was humorously suggested that, to save the nation the £10,000, the Princess Victoria should be made

The New Bishop of Derry.

(p. 70) On the 17th of August a bronze statue, by Chantry, of William Pitt, the statesman was erected in Hanover Square, where it now stands.

On the 19th of August there were sold, during the lifetime of their writer many manuscripts of Sir Walter Scott's novels. The auctioneer was Mr. Evans of Pall Mall, and the prices they fetched were as follows: "The Monastery," warranted perfect, £18. "Guy Mannering," wanting a folio at the end of the second volume, £27 19s. "Old Mortality," perfect, £33. "The Antiquary," perfect, £42. "Rob Roy," complete, but the second volume wrongly paged, £50. "Peveril of the Peak," perfect, £42. "Waverley," very imperfect, £18. "The Abbot," imperfect, £14. "Ivanhoe," £12. "The Pirate," imperfect, £12. "The Fortunes of Nigel," £16. "Kenilworth," imperfect, £17. "The Bride of Lammermoor," £14 14s. In all, £316 4s.

But the topic of conversation for the year was the coronation, and much was the gossip and town talk thereon. It was to be nothing as grand as that of George the Magnificent, the amount voted by the House of Commons, on September 1st, to be expended upon it, being only £50,000. There was to be no banquet in Westminster Hall, no Champion; and the people satirically called it a "half-crownation." But the spirit of economy was abroad, and the tastes of the bourgeois monarch were simple. And the outlay was well within the sum granted, the actual expenditure being—

Great fun was made of this meagre spectacle, as we may see by the satirical sketch shown on p. 72, by H. B., entitled, "Going to a Half-Crownation," where the Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex are shown in a hack cab, the King and Queen in a hackney coach, on the box of which sits Lord Chancellor Brougham, bearing the great seal; whilst the omnibus behind contains the Fitzclarences, the King's family by Mrs. Jordan. The peers and peeresses are on foot; first, Lord Grey carrying the Sword of State, then Lord and Lady Durham, and last, Lady Grey. The gentleman on horseback is Mr. Lee, High Bailiff of Westminster.

A Half-Crownation.

At the customary banquet in Westminster Hall, the Lord Mayor of London is by prescriptive right the chief butler on the occasion, and hands the King wine in a gold goblet, which he receives as his fee, but there being no banquet on this occasion, there (p. 73) was no gold cup. The Times, of August 27th, tells an amusing anecdote respecting the cup at the coronation of George IV.—

"At the last Coronation, Alderman Thorp, then Lord Mayor, performed service as butler, and received an unusually splendid gold cup as his perquisite.... A laughable story has been revived in the City, within the last few days, relative to a former Coronation. On the occasion we allude to, the Coronation was fixed for a certain day. The Coronation Cup was under the hands of the King's jeweller, and the Lord Mayor, who intended to cut a great dash amongst his fellow citizens, slily went to the person who was finishing off the article, and told him to make it £30 richer and more beautiful than his instructions amounted to. This innocent piece of imposition was accordingly carried into effect, and his Lordship paid down his £30, and rejoiced in the superior importance which the value of the perquisite would confer upon him. By some awful circumstance, the day of Coronation was not only postponed, but actually appointed to take place in another mayoralty, and the gold cup, with its £30 worth of superiority, fell into the hands of a more fortunate chief magistrate and butler. It is recorded that when the Lord Mayor was receiving the cup from his Majesty, there was, amongst those who suspected the disappointment, a general titter, in which all the Aldermen, with one exception, joined."

The sum voted for this coronation was so meagre, that a crown for the Queen could not be included in the expenses. Her Majesty, therefore, not caring to hire jewels for her crown, as did George IV., had it decorated with her own personal precious stones.

I have no space to give an account of the coronation, the ceremonial of which followed the established use.

(p. 74) CHAPTER VIII.
1831.

Scramble for coronation medals — Bad weather — Fireworks in Hyde Park — Absence from the ceremony of the Duchess of Kent and Princess Victoria — The Times thereon — Story of a Great Seal — Reform Bill rejected by the Lords — Reform riots in the country and London — Windows of Apsley House broken by the mob.

There was a regular scramble for the coronation medals, and one accident is recorded as having happened to Alderman Sir Claudius Hunter. He made an effort to catch some of the Coronation medals which were cast among the company. The other aldermen, however, were as anxious as he was to get hold of the medal, and, in the melée, Sir Claudius received a cut under the eye, and the blood streamed down. It happened that the famous surgeon, Sir Astley Cooper, was close by, and he attended to the wounded man; but it was remarked that none of the aldermen got a medal in the scramble. Possibly, a medal so obtained, may have a fictitious value, as a memento, but they could be obtained at the Mint, or at appointed places in Ludgate Hill, or Panton Street, Haymarket, at the following prices: gold, £5, silver, 10s., bronze, 5s.

During the procession to the Abbey the weather was fine, and the sight a brilliant one; but, soon (p. 75) after one o'clock, a very heavy rain descended; the wind, too, blew with great violence, and occasioned rattling and tearing among the canvas canopies of the newly erected stands. It ceased for a short time, between two and three, when it broke out afresh, and was particularly lively when the ceremony was over, at half-past three. It quite spoilt the return procession, some of the carriages driving straight away, and those that fell into rank had their windows up. The general public were in sorry plight, as we see in the accompanying illustration—

Coronation Day.
Some of the lieges on their return."

In spite of the weather, London was brilliantly illuminated, and the theatres and Vauxhall Gardens were thrown open free. There was a display of fireworks in Hyde Park, at which many were more or (p. 76) less hurt by the falling rocket-sticks, six so seriously as to have to be taken to St. George's Hospital. Throughout the country the festivity was universal.

One little thing marred the universality. The Duchess of Kent was not present at the coronation, neither was the Princess Victoria. It was an open secret that the King and the Duchess were not on friendly terms, but it was thought very bad taste on her part not to be present; this was freely commented on, as we see in—

The Kentish Lady
that did not go to the Coronation."

The Duchess is saying to the weeping Princess, "Say no more about the Coronation, child. I have my particular reasons for not going to it."

The Times must needs turn virtuously indignant (p. 77) on the occasion, and lectured the Royal Duchess thus[8]—

But the Times sang another tune in its issue of September 10th—

And with this episode we will close the coronation.

About this time Greville tells a little story of a Council Meeting.

"September 3.—This King is a queer fellow. Our Council (p. 80) was, principally, for a new Great Seal, and to deface the old Seal. The Chancellor claims the old one as his perquisite. I had forgotten the hammer,[9] so the King said, 'My Lord, the best thing I can do, is to give you the Seal, and tell you to take it, and do what you please with it.' The Chancellor said, 'Sir, I believe there is some doubt whether Lord Lyndhurst ought not to have half of it, as he was Chancellor at the time of your Majesty's accession.' 'Well,' said the King, 'then, I will judge between you, like Solomon; here' (turning the Seal round and round), 'now do you cry heads or tails?' We all laughed, and the Chancellor said, 'Sir, I take the bottom part.' The King opened the two compartments of the Seal, and said, 'Now, then, I employ you as Ministers of taste. You will send for Bridge, my silversmith, and desire him to convert the two halves, each into a salver, with my arms on one side, and yours on the other, and Lord Lyndhurst's the same; and you will take one, and give him the other, and both keep them as presents from me.'"

We, lately, have heard a great deal against the House of Lords, even to its being abolished, but this was as nothing compared to the feeling excited by the Reform Bill. At half-past five on the morning of September 22nd, the Bill was read a third time, and passed, in the House of Commons, by a majority of 113. It then went to the Lords, and on the second reading Lord Wharncliffe moved, "That the Bill be read that day six months." The Lords had five days' debate upon the Bill, and rejected it on October 7th by a majority of 41.

This raised the ire of the Reform party; and, as was the custom of the age, riots ensued. The (p. 81) Annual Register gives the following condensed account of them:—

The Rev. G. R. Gleig, in his "Life of Arthur, Duke of Wellington" (edit. 1864, p. 360), gives the following account of the window-breaking at Apsley House:—

"The Duke was not in his place in the House of Lords on that memorable day when the King went down to dissolve Parliament.[10] He had been in attendance, for some time (p. 84) previously, at the sick bed of the Duchess, and she expired just as the Park guns began to fire. He was, therefore, ignorant of the state into which London had fallen, till a surging crowd swept up from Westminster to Piccadilly, shouting and yelling, and offering violence to all whom they suspected of being Anti-Reformers. By-and-by, volleys of stones came crashing through the windows at Apsley house, breaking them to pieces and doing injury to more than one valuable picture in the gallery. The Duke bore the outrage as well as he could, but determined never to run a similar risk again. He guarded his windows, as soon as quiet was restored, with iron shutters, and left them there to the day of his death, a standing memento of a nation's ingratitude."

Doubtless many of my readers remember those shutters, which were always down, and were not removed until after his funeral on November 18, 1852.

(p. 85) CHAPTER IX.
1831.

Reform procession — The Corporation of London and the King — Dreadful riots at Bristol — Riots in other parts of the kingdom — Edward Irving and the "Gifts of Tongues" — The cholera — Its spread — State of Ireland — Tithe agitation — Scarcity of food — Repeal of the Union — Cases of violence.

A large portion of the nation, and London in particular, had Reform on the brain; and, as soon as the news of the rejection of the Bill was generally known, it was arranged at a meeting of delegates from the several parishes that separate addresses to the King should be presented from each, and that deputations should be accompanied to St. James's Palace by such of the parishioners who chose to attend. Accordingly, on October 12th, deputations and auxiliaries from St. Marylebone, St. Pancras, St. Luke's Clerkenwell, St. James Westminster, and St. Mary Newington, marched to St. James's, and it was reckoned that there was an assemblage of about sixty thousand people.

The deputations waited on Lord Melbourne, who was Home Secretary, and requested him to present them to the King. My Lord diplomatically replied that he would first learn his Majesty's pleasure thereon, but would advise them to give the addresses (p. 86) to the members for Middlesex, Messrs. Byng and Hume, who would present them, which was accordingly done. The members returned in about an hour, when Mr. Hume addressed the mob. He told them that he had presented their addresses to his Majesty, telling him that they were passed at meetings of near forty thousand persons, and that they prayed he would retain his ministers—use all constitutional means to pass the Reform Bill—and dismiss those persons from his court and household who were opposed to the measure; and he further informed his hearers, that the King had distinctly promised that their prayers should be complied with, and that he had emphatically observed that he had the highest confidence in his present ministry, and that every means in his power should be used to secure the success of a measure so essentially necessary to the interest, happiness, and welfare of his people; and, further, all persons about his court, or person, opposed to the Bill should be removed. The mob cheered loudly, and duly broke windows and committed excesses on their way back.

The City of London, now so overwhelmingly Conservative, was then, and long after, violently Radical in its politics, and, consequently, must needs present an address to the King, as, by prescriptive right, they were entitled to do. The King received the Mayor and Corporation, seated upon his throne, and to their address gave the following diplomatic answer:—

So serious were these riots thought, that extraordinary military precautions were taken, as we read in the Globe of October 11th—

"A double guard of the first regiment of household cavalry is placed at the Horse Guards, and a horse patrol is parading in St. James's Park. A party of eighty of the same regiment is lying at the gun house, near the long gun in St. James's Park. An extra guard was ordered at the Magazine in Hyde Park yesterday morning. Orders were also sent to Woolwich to have the artillery in readiness, should occasion require their presence in the metropolis. The troops in Hounslow barracks are also in a state for immediate service. Large quantities of ammunition have been delivered out to the troops at their respective barracks and quarters, and even the recruits at the recruiting house are under arms."

London, however, had had enough of rioting. Not so, in the country, notably at Bristol, where they rivalled the celebrated Lord George Gordon riots of 1780. It began with the advent of Sir Charles Wetherell, the Recorder of the City, on (p. 88) October 29th, to hold the Sessions there. He had voted against the Reform Bill, and was mobbed and stoned. He eventually opened the Sessions, and retired to the Mansion House, before which a mob of some ten thousand people were assembled. The mayor came forward, begged of them to depart, and read the Riot Act. Much they cared for that, for they knew there were no military, and the police force was totally inadequate to cope with them; so they made an attack on the Mansion House, to get at the obnoxious Recorder, who managed to make his escape and left the city.

They were about to set fire to the Mansion House, when the troops arrived. The colonel cautioned the people, but they would not disperse, and a charge was ordered, in which some of the mob received severe sabre cuts, and one man was shot dead. The night passed fairly quietly, owing to the soldiers parading the town and preventing the crowd uniting.

The next day, being Sunday, and things seeming pretty quiet, the soldiers, who had been on duty for twenty-four hours, were dismissed for refreshment; but they had scarcely disappeared, when the rioters again assembled, attacked the Mansion House, sacked it, and got raving drunk on the contents of its cellar—so much so, that several died from drunkenness. The troops were again called out, but were received with such a shower of stones and bricks, that it was deemed prudent to withdraw them; but whilst this was being done, they were attacked again (p. 89) and again, until they fired in self-defence, killing several persons.

The mob then attacked the Bridewell, liberated the prisoners, and set fire to the building. They then went to the New Gaol, sacked the governor's house, broke open the gaol, and released the prisoners—after which they set the building on fire. Then they burnt the Tollgates, after which they released the prisoners in Gloucester County Gaol, and set fire to it; so that three prisons were in flames at the same time.

Then they set fire to the Mansion House and the Bishop's Palace, after which they burnt many houses and the Custom House, where there was some loss of life: altogether, that day, they completely destroyed forty-two dwelling-houses, besides the public buildings already mentioned; whilst, round about the scene of devastation, lay many of the rioters in the last stage of senseless intoxication, with countenances more resembling fiends than men.

Meantime the soldiers, who had been ordered out of the city, were brought back; and the magistrates, having re-assembled, came, at length, to a decision, and called out the posse comitatus. The military were then ordered to clear the streets—an order which was fulfilled to the letter by a party of the troops, which had experienced some rough treatment, and had, in consequence, fired upon the people on the previous day. Nothing was to be seen on every side but women and children, running screaming in (p. 90) every direction, many being severely wounded, and some killed. The number of casualties were never known; but it was said that the killed and wounded did not exceed 100. Of the dead, as far as could be ascertained, 6 were burnt, 2 shot, 2 died of sword-cuts, and 2 from excessive drinking. Of the wounded, 10 were injured by shots, 48 by sword-cuts, 2 by drinking, and 34 from other causes. Many prisoners were taken, and 180 were committed for trial, 50 of whom were capitally charged with rioting and burning. There were, also, riots at Bath, Coventry, and Worcester, but they were child's play compared to that at Bristol.

About this time there was great talk of one Edward Irving, pastor of the Scotch National Church, in Regent Square, and the miraculous gift of tongues. In London, at all events, this peculiar manifestation seems to have commenced on Sunday, October 9th, when Mr. Irving delivered two sermons on the extraordinary gifts of the Spirit, on which occasions the congregation was disturbed by individuals speaking in unknown language. During the morning's sermon, a lady (Mrs. Hall), thus singularly endowed, was compelled to retire to the vestry, where she was unable (so she said) to restrain herself, and spoke for some time in the unknown tongue, to the great surprise of the congregation. In the evening a Mr. Tamplin did the same, creating great confusion. Next Sunday a Mr. Carsdale was similarly affected, and these manifestations, afterwards, became common.

(p. 91) The accompanying illustration is by Seymour, and purported to be sketched from life. It is called, "The Unknown Tongues—Daybreak at the National Scotch Church, Regent Square. Refrain from these Men, etc., Acts iv." Irving is seated, Mr. Tamplin is standing with an open book, Mrs. Hall is one of the ladies, and Mr. Carsdale leans his head on his hand.

The sect which Irving founded is still in existence, and is called by its followers, "The Holy Catholic Apostolic Church." Their principal place of worship is in a beautiful church in Gordon Square.

The cholera was advancing step by step through (p. 92) Europe, and it became certain that England could not escape its visitation. As a matter of precaution, the Board of Health, early in October, issued a notice detailing the symptoms of the disease, and the remedies to be applied in case of seizure. And, not content with trying earthly means to avert the pestilence, the aid of Heaven was implored, and a form of prayer, with that intent, was read in all the Metropolitan churches on November 6th. But the "destroying angel" prayed against, came in due course, and made its first appearance at Sunderland. The earliest account I can find of it is in the Globe of November 11th, which says—

"We have been favoured with the following official return from Sunderland, received this morning by the Board of Health:—Four deaths; seven new cases."

That acute observer, Greville, writes under date November 14th—

It spread to Newcastle early in December, and thence to other neighbouring places, until the returns were, on December 30th, as follows:—

(p. 94) It is impossible to give an account of this year without noticing the state of Ireland. It began badly, for the peasantry marched, in bands, throughout the country, demanding reduction of rents and increase of wages; and threatening destruction to the magistrates and gentry who should disobey or endeavour to resist. Nor did they stop at threats. In January, a Mr. Blood (county Clare) was murdered by ruffians introduced, for the purpose, by his own servants. In the middle of February, a Mr. Synge, who had tenants on Church lands, was pierced with four bullets in the neighbourhood of his own house; and, only a week afterwards, a magistrate, in Tipperary, was murdered by a band who entered his house to search for arms.

The peasantry, in some parts, were in great distress. In the country, as well as in the large towns, crowds were famishing for want of food, and sinking into bodily sickness from want of clothing during the inclemency of the winter. In only two baronies of the county of Mayo there were stated to be, in the middle of February, twenty thousand persons without any visible means of procuring food. The potato crop had failed along the western coast of Ireland, and it was estimated that in that district of the island there would be, almost immediately, at least two hundred thousand persons in want of food. Things were nearly as bad in Galway and Sligo, and in some other parts of the island. Petitions were presented to Parliament praying for relief, and the (p. 95) Chancellor of the Exchequer proposed a vote of £50,000 to be advanced to certain Commissioners, who should lend it, on proper security, to be used in giving employment to the starving population, in making roads, and similar public works.

Then, again, there was the cry of the Repeal of the Union, and Daniel O'Connell was to the fore, and soon began to show the physical force at his command. He advertised that the trades of Dublin were to march through its streets on December 27, 1830, and the Lord Lieutenant forbad it, by proclamation, on December 25th, as being unlawful. O'Connell then formed "The General Association of Ireland for the Prevention of Unlawful Meetings, and for the protection and exercise of the sacred Right of Petitioning (p. 96) for the Redress of Grievances." This was forbidden, as unlawfully meeting, by the Lord Lieutenant on January 7th. He held meetings, however, and, on January 18th, he and his leading partisans were apprehended and taken before the magistrates, and let out on bail. The same month true bills were found against all concerned, and he availed himself of every legal quibble. He first put in a demurrer, and pleaded, Not guilty; then he withdrew his demurrer and pleaded Guilty; but neither he nor any of the agitators were ever brought up for judgment.

In the spring of the year, in some portions of Ireland, notably in Clare, Roscommon, Galway, and Tipperary, the law seemed no longer to exist. Murder, robbery, searching for arms, etc., were done by bodies of men who could only be met by military force, and were the ordinary occurrences of every day. The lord lieutenant made a progress through the disturbed districts, hoping thereby to restore tranquillity. He was neither insulted nor murdered, but he did no good, and matters remained as they were.

It is impossible to notice all the cases of outrage, but I will give two as being typical. On June 18th, certain cattle, which had been impounded for the payment of tithe, were to be sold at Newton Barry in the County of Wexford. On the day of the intended sale, which happened to be market day, the populace were called to act, by the following placard:—

(p. 97) "Inhabitants of the parish of St. Mary, Newton Barry, there will be an end to Church plunder; your pot, blanket, and pig will not, hereafter, be sold by auction, to support in luxury, idleness and ease, persons who endeavour to make it appear that it is essential to the peace and prosperity of the country and your eternal salvation, while the most of you are starving. Attend to an auction of your neighbour's cattle, on Saturday next, the 18th instant, seized for tithe by the Rev. Alexander M'Clintock."

The police were thus put upon their guard, and a body of yeomanry was in readiness. The populace interfered with the sale, and the police with the populace. The yeomanry had to act in support of the police. The consequence was that twelve or thirteen of the populace were killed by the fire of the yeomanry, and about twenty wounded. The coroner's jury, after sitting for nine days, returned no verdict. Six Protestants, who were upon it, and six Catholics, being, it is said, directly opposed to each other in opinion. The Crown directed its officers to make an investigation, in consequence of which, bills of indictment were presented, at the Wexford Assizes, in July, against certain of the yeomanry, including the captain who commanded them, and a sergeant.

The prosecution was conducted by the Crown, in conjunction with the next of kin of the parties killed. The bills charged murder; the grand jury ignored them all, but expressed their readiness to entertain bills for manslaughter against the captain and sergeant. The counsel for the next of kin refused to co-operate with the crown in trying for the minor charge, but the Crown counsel declared that the case (p. 98) must be gone through, whatever the next of kin might choose to do. Bills for manslaughter against the captain and sergeant were then sent up. The bill against the former was ignored, a true bill was found against the latter. He was put upon his trial, but the witnesses had disappeared. The trial was postponed till the following day, but then, too, not one of them was forthcoming, and the case was delayed till the next assizes.

At Knocktopher, in the county of Kilkenny, on December 14th, a chief constable, with a strong party of police, went out to protect a process server in the execution of his legal duty, in serving the usual process for refused tithe. There were neither military nor yeomanry. The population prepared for murder. The sides of the road and the adjacent fields were covered with people armed with bludgeons, scythes, pitchforks, and other deadly weapons. They ferociously demanded that the process server should be delivered up to them. The police having refused, the crowd closed upon them in a narrow lane, overpowered them, and murdered twelve or thirteen of them, besides dangerously wounding several of the party.

Among the killed was the captain of the police. The accounts were that his son, about ten years old, who accompanied his father, riding on a pony, was inhumanly butchered. The pony which the child rode was stabbed to death. Five of the police, who showed some symptoms of life, after being barbarously beaten with bludgeons, as they lay insensible on the ground, (p. 99) had their brains knocked out by a peasant's son, not more than twelve or fourteen years old, who was armed with a scythe.

The country people, after satiating their vengeance on the bleeding bodies of the murdered police, by (p. 100) kicking and stabbing them, retired to their homes and usual occupations, with as much indifference as if they had just performed some meritorious deed.

On preceding page are given illustrations of a bonnet, hat, turban, and caps, as worn during the year, and, here, the different styles of hair-dressing fashionable in 1830-31.

(p. 101) CHAPTER X.
1832.

Commissions at Bristol and Nottingham — Executions — Employment of children in factories — Cholera in London — Day of fast and humiliation — Riot in Finsbury — Cholera riot at Paisley — A small one in London — Decrease of cholera — Number of deaths — Cholera in Ireland — A charm against it — Its effect on rooks — The police, City and Metropolitan.

The excesses at Bristol could not, possibly, be passed over, and a Commission, consisting of the Lord Chief Justice and two judges, met on January 2nd, to try the rioters. Various sentences of transportation and imprisonment were passed, and four men were hanged on January 27th. They were Christopher Davis, convicted of having encouraged the mob to commit acts of plunder and desolation; William Clarke, for having assisted in destroying the Gaol and Bridewell; and Joseph Kayes and Thomas Gregory, for having formed part of a mob that pillaged and burnt two dwelling-houses. Davis had retired from his business, which was that of a carrier, and in which he had amassed about £2000. Clarke, who had connections possessing considerable property, was a sawyer; the other two were common labourers. Colonel Brereton was court martialed for firing on the rioters, which so (p. 102) preyed upon his mind, that he shot himself on January 14th, during his trial.

Another Commission sat at Nottingham to try the rioters there, and three men were hanged.

Parliament met on December 6, 1831, and, of course, the principal business of the Session was the Reform Bill. But there were social as well as Parliamentary reforms urgently needed, one of which was the employment of children in factories, which had been much abused. Petitions poured in, in favour of shorter working hours for them, and other ameliorations of their condition. Richard Oastler, popularly known as "The Factory King," a staunch Tory and Churchman, and one of the most popular political leaders among the working-men in the West Riding of Yorkshire, championed their cause; and I will give an extract from a speech of his at a meeting held at Huddersfield, to petition Parliament on their behalf. Said he—

"Take, then, a little captive, and I will not picture fiction to you, but I will tell you what I have seen. Take a little captive six years old; she shall rise from her bed at four o'clock in the morning, of a cold winter's day; but, before that, she wakes, perhaps half a dozen times, and says, 'Father, is it time? Father, is it time?' And, at last, when she gets up, and puts her little bits of rags upon her weary limbs—weary with the last day's work—she trudges onward, through rain and snow, to the mill, perhaps two miles, or, at least, one mile; and there, for thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, or even eighteen hours, she is obliged to work, with only thirty minutes interval. (Shame.) The girl I am speaking of died; but she dragged on that dreadful existence for several years. Homewards again at night she would go, (p. 103) when she was able; but, many a time she hid herself in the wool at the mill, as she had not strength to go. (Hear.) But this is not an isolated case. I wish it were."

A correspondent writing to the Times, March 16, says—

"The children are frequently reduced to such insensibility, as not to know when they have finished their cardings, but their hands and feet have continued to perform the evolutions of their work. Many times, of an evening, when I have passed on from child to child in a woollen mill, each has turned up its little face, and anxiously inquired, 'What o'clock is't?' I have answered, 'Seven.' 'Seven?' was the rejoinder, 'Why, it's three hours to ten, isn't it? We moan't gee up till ten and past.' This, delivered in a melancholy tone, has made me thus reflect as I returned home: 'I know that you must remain at work till past ten. I know, also, that you are called out of bed at five in the morning, and although it may be eleven at night before you reach home, you must again leave your beds at five; and this, too, every morning in the year, Sundays excepted. Many of you will have to grope about in the dark for the greasy rags which scarcely cover you. No matter, you must face all weathers. Though the roads be choked with snow, and the frost would make the strongest shiver, let the winds roar, or the rain fall, still there must be no delay. At five every morning you must leave your humble homes, and, lamentable to reflect, ye 'moan't gee up till ten and past.'"

On the second reading of the "Factories Regulation Bill," March 16th, Mr. Sadler, in the course of a very long speech, made the following statement:—

"The following were the hours of labour imposed upon the children and young persons employed in a certain establishment last summer. Monday morning, commence work at six o'clock; at nine, half an hour for breakfast; begin again at half-past nine, and work till twelve. Dinner, one hour; work from one till half-past four. Drinking (afternoon meal), half an hour; work from (p. 104) five to eight; rest, half an hour; work from half-past eight till twelve (midnight); an hour's rest. One in the morning till five, work; half an hour's rest; half-past five till nine; breakfast; half-past nine till twelve. Dinner; work from one till half-past four. Again from five till nine on the Tuesday evening, when the labour concluded, and the gang of adult and infant slaves were dismissed for the night, after having toiled thirty-nine hours with nine intervals for refreshment (but none for bed), amounting to six hours only, in the whole. Wednesday and Thursday, day work only. On Friday morning till Saturday night, the same labour repeated, with the same intermissions as endured on Monday, Monday night, and Tuesday; only the labour of the last day closed at five, when the poor wretches were dismissed. The ensuing day, Sunday, must, under such circumstances, be a day of stupor, to rouse the children from which would often only be to continue their physical sufferings, without the possibility of compensating them with any moral good."

But no definite action was taken in the matter until the following year, when I shall have occasion to again allude to it.

In the middle of February the cholera made its appearance in London, in the parish of St. Anne's, Limehouse. On the 12th, a woman, named Fergusson, was attacked by the disease and conveyed to the workhouse. She died in eight hours. On the same day another woman and her daughter died in the same place.

Greville tells us something about its commencement, under date February 14th—

"In the meantime the cholera has made its appearance in London, at Rotherhithe, Limehouse, and in a ship off Greenwich. In all, seven cases. These are amongst the lowest and most wretched classes, chiefly Irish; and a more lamentable exhibition (p. 105) of human misery than that given by the medical men who called at the Council Office yesterday I never heard. They are in the most abject state of poverty, without beds to lie upon. The men live by casual labour, are employed by the hour, and often get no more than four or five hours' employment in the course of the week. They are huddled and crowded together by families in the same room, not as permanent lodgers, but procuring a temporary shelter; in short, in the most abject state of physical privation and moral degradation that can be imagined. On Saturday we had an account of one or more cases. We sent, instantly, down to inspect the district and organize a Board of Health. A meeting was convened, and promises given that all things needful should be done; but, as they met at a public-house, they all got drunk and did nothing. We have sent down members of the Board of Health to make preparations and organize Boards; but, if the disease really spreads, no human power can arrest its progress through such an Augæan stable."

And no doubt but that, according to their lights, at that time, they did all they could to prevent its spread, but sanitary science was in its infancy—water and food were not analyzed as now. Chemistry and medicine were very far behind the present date, and as to "bacilli," they were never dreamt of.

But they could set apart a day for a "general fast and humiliation"—

"For obtaining pardon for our sins, and averting the heavy judgments which our manifold provocations have most justly deserved; and, particularly, for beseeching God to remove from us that grievous disease with which several places in the kingdom are at this time visited."

And they chose Wednesday, March 21st.

Different people take different views as to the observance of a fast day. Here and in Scotland, it (p. 106) means a day's holiday and excursion by rail or boat. On this occasion the Political Union of the Working Classes invited them to assemble in Finsbury Square, where they would celebrate the fast day with a meal of bread and meat, which would be provided for them, after which they would perambulate the metropolis in procession. This attracted the lower classes and the poorer labouring men, many of whom were in the greatest possible distress and destitution, and, in spite of a warning proclamation from the Home Secretary, some twelve thousand or fourteen thousand assembled in the square by eleven o'clock, and before two there must have been twenty-five thousand present. But none of the Trades' Unionists had made their appearance, nor had any of the promised cartloads of provisions. The mob amused themselves by hooting and pelting the police with stones and other missiles, and, as there could not have been less than one thousand to one thousand five hundred police in the square, besides heavy reinforcements contingent, Commissioner Mayne gave orders for the square to be cleared, which was soon done, though not without injury to police and populace. Some abortive attempts at processions were made, but they were soon dispersed by the police.

All kinds of rumours were abroad among the ignorant poor with regard to the medical profession and cholera patients. It was said that they poisoned them or used their bodies for dissection; and on this (p. 107) latter count there was a serious riot at Paisley, on March 24th. It came about in this way. As a preparation for the approach of cholera, a new burial ground had been laid out at Paisley, in which were interred all of the lowest class who died of that disease. Some boys having discovered two small shovels and a cord with a hook at its end concealed beneath a small bridge leading from a country road near the new burial ground, took them to the town and exhibited them there.

The public mind was so excited by the supposition that those dying of cholera were being transferred from their graves to the dissecting-table, that a crowd collected and commenced opening the graves, in one of the first of which an empty coffin was found. It must be recollected that at that time "resurrectionism," or "body-snatching," was in full vogue, to provide subjects for the dissecting room; that Burke had been hanged at Edinburgh in 1829, and Bishop at London in 1831, for having committed murder with this object.

The crowd rapidly increased, and, as more graves were opened, several were found untenanted. This excited the mob, who began by demolishing the cemetery fence. The magistrates assembled for the preservation of the public peace, and it was instantly agreed that a reward of £50 should be offered for the discovery of the offenders.

This had scarcely been resolved on before the crowd arrived in the town, bearing an empty coffin. (p. 108) Notwithstanding the efforts of the magistrates, they proceeded through the town, broke the windows of all the surgeons' houses and shops, those of the hospital, and then demolished the cholera hearse, and, as far as possible, everything connected with the establishment. The first time the crowd (which consisted mainly of lads and Irishmen) visited the hospital, they were persuaded to desist from their work of destruction; but, after taking a turn through the town, they came back, broke the windows, forced open the gate, and did other mischief. A patient in the hospital was struck on the head with a stone, and had it slightly cut. He called for protection against such treatment, and expired shortly afterwards. Another patient, who had recovered, and who was to have been dismissed from the hospital that day, relapsed.

There was, also, a small cholera riot in London, as we read in the Times, March 31st—

At the beginning of April, the cholera in London began to subside, and, owing to the diminished number of cases, the Treasury, on April 6th, issued an order, reducing the number of the Medical Board. Raikes, in his journal, says: "April 7.—From the daily reports, cholera seems greatly subsiding; up to last night the grand total of cases, since the commencement, are 7435, and deaths 2489." But it continued the whole year, and the death returns for the whole kingdom, from this cause, on December 3rd, were 95. The total deaths from cholera in 1831-32, are put down as 59,547.

(p. 110) Ireland did not escape the visitation. On the contrary, the disease there was very severe, and the Times of June 16th records the following curious charm against it:—

If we are to credit the Dublin Morning Register, the cholera had a peculiar effect upon rooks—

"In the demesne of the Marquis of Sligo, near Westport House, there is one of the largest rookeries in the west of Ireland. On the first, or second day of the appearance of cholera in this place, I was astonished to observe that all the rooks had disappeared; and, for three weeks, during which the disease raged violently, these noisy tenants of the trees completely deserted their lofty habitations. In the meantime, the Revenue police found immense numbers of them lying dead upon the shore near Erris, about ten miles distant. Upon the decline of the malady, within the last few days, several of the old birds have again appeared in the neighbourhood of the rookery, but some of them seemed unable, through exhaustion, to reach their nests. The number of birds now in the rookery is not a sixth of what it had been three months ago."

The "New Police" worked so well, that the City, who have always had the right of keeping their own watch and ward, followed their example. We read in the Times of March 22nd—

(p. 112) "The race of street keepers, with their gold-laced coats and hats, are about to be extinguished in their last stronghold—the City. They are to be superseded by a new police force, which is to patrol the streets by day only, and which is to be paid and regulated on the model of the county police. A hundred men have been chosen and measured for their suits of blue."

And again, March 31st—

"The new City policemen, a hundred in number, will commence their duties on Monday next (April 2nd). The Police Committee of Aldermen will gratuitously perform the functions of Commissioners, but there is to be a chief officer to direct the whole system. Mr. Cope, the Marshal, has been appointed to this duty with the title of Superintendent. Mr. Cowlan is named the second, or rather, deputy Superintendent. Martin and Maclean, two of the City Officers are appointed Inspectors. The scale of wages which has been fixed in the county will be adopted in the City; but the duty will be more severe, as the men will be on their beats the whole day."

This was the humble beginning of that force, which now comprises—1 commissioner, 1 assistant ditto, 1 superintendent, 1 ditto detective department, 3 chief inspectors, 15 district ditto, 22 station ditto, 12 detective ditto, 72 sergeants, 7 detective ditto, and 795 constables; also 86 constables on private service duty.

We can judge of the work performed by the "New Police" from January 1, 1831, to January 1832, from the Official Report. They apprehended no less than 72,824 persons on different charges, viz. 45,907 males, and 26,917 females. Out of this number 2955 were committed for trial; 21,843 were summarily convicted before the magistrates; 24,239 (p. 113) were discharged by the magistrates; and 23,787 drunken characters were discharged by the superintendents of police, at the station-house, after they became sober. The number of persons charged before the magistrates for being drunk were 7566; of this number, 3187 were discharged, and 4379 fined five shillings; the numbers fined being, respectively, 3185 males, and 1194 females. From the above returns it seems that the police apprehended nearly 200 a day.

(p. 114) CHAPTER XI.
1832.

Reform Bill passes the Commons — Scotch boys and the Reform Bill — Proposed increase of the peerage — Passed in the Lords — "The Marylebone or Tory Hunt" — The Duke of Wellington mobbed — The King stoned — The Queen hissed — Archbishop of Canterbury stoned.

Of course, the great topic of interest and conversation for the early part of the year was the Reform Bill, the third reading of which was passed on March 23rd by a majority of 116. What the Lords would do was then all the talk. There were to be new peers created, whose numbers would carry the Bill, or the Lords were to be abolished. We are used to this cry, and we know what little sympathy it met with among the people of Great Britain, but I doubt whether we can show such a humorous anecdote of party feeling as that given by the Scotsman, quoted by the Times of March 2nd—

Anent the creation of new peers, there is an amusing skit in verse.

In the House of Lords, on May 7th, Lord Lyndhurst moved the postponement of the disenfranchising clause, which was carried, against the Government by a majority of thirty-five. Next day, Earl Grey and the Ministry resigned. The mob were enraged, and spoke evilly of the King and Queen. The former applied in vain to the Tory party to make a Government, but finding that useless, he was reduced to the humiliating necessity of renewing his intercourse with his former ministers (who returned to power), and had to swallow the leek as to the creation of new peers. He had no objection to raising to the peerage eldest sons of peers, or of rehabilitating dormant peerages, but he had a wholesome horror of creating an enormous quantity of peers simply to coerce the House of Lords and pass a measure to which they were opposed. Good sense, however, prevailed: the peers did what they always have done, bowed to overwhelming popular opinion—amended the Bill somewhat—and on the 4th of June the Bill was read a third time in the House of Lords, and passed, one hundred and six peers voting for it, and twenty-two against it. The amendments introduced by the peers were agreed to on the following (p. 117) day by the House of Commons, without any discussion regarding their merits, though not without much angry remark in attack and defence of the conduct of ministers in the late events. On the 7th of June, the Royal Assent was given by commission, and the great bugbear of King William's reign was laid at rest.

Such a consummation was undoubtedly due to the conduct of the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel at this crisis; and, indeed, that this was the general feeling, is shown by the accompanying satirical print by H. B., in which we see these two statesmen using their best endeavours to keep Sir George Grey firm in his very insecure position. (See next page.)

The party passions of the mob ran very high both before and after the passing of the Bill, and led to some excesses, two or three examples of which are worth recording. The Times, May 16th—

But, can any sane person imagine the mob, after the Bill had passed, thanks to the efforts of the Duke of Wellington, attacking the hero of Waterloo, on (p. 119) the anniversary of that victory? Yet so it was. On the 18th of June he had occasion to visit the Mint, and a crowd of people collected on Tower Hill to see him return. On making his appearance at the gate, he was loudly hissed and hooted by the crowd, which increased every moment, until it amounted to several hundred persons. Riding along the Minories surrounded by his persecutors, he was met by Mr. Ballantine, one of the Thames police magistrates, who asked him if he could render him any assistance. His Grace replied in the negative, saying that he did not mind what was going on.

Nothing particular occurred, until the Duke reached the middle of Fenchurch Street, when a man rushed forward from the crowd and, catching hold of the reins of the horse's bridle with one hand, endeavoured to dismount its rider with the other, and would have succeeded, had it not been for the spirited conduct of the Duke's groom, who came up at the time. The mob now was very great; but by the exertions of the police his Grace was escorted through it and along Cheapside without any personal injury. In Holborn, however, the mob, not satisfied with words, began to throw stones and filth. The Duke then rode to the chambers of Sir Charles Wetherell, in Stone Buildings, Lincoln's Inn, the mob still following.

What occurred afterwards, let Sir Edw. Sugden, afterwards Lord St. Leonard's, tell in his own words[11]—

More stone-throwing—this time at the King! This (p. 122) happened next day, June 19th, when the King was at Ascot races. He was looking out of a window in the royal stand, when two stones were thrown from the midst of the crowd below, one of which struck his Majesty severely on the forehead, but his hat saved him from any injury. The king immediately stood up, and was received with the loudest cheers. The culprit turned out to be a discharged Greenwich pensioner, who took this way of making his grievances known. It is not worth while to trace what became of him, but I know that his punishment was light.

But the King was not then popular, and as to the Queen, she was very much disliked. It was currently said that she exercised too much influence over the weak monarch, and that her influence was not for people's good. Very many skits are in existence on the subject, as well as satirical prints representing her wearing the regal breeches, etc. The following extract from the Times of June 27th, relative to a review held in Hyde Park on the previous day, will show the popular feeling at the time:—

"When the King and Queen entered the Park, the people, who had lined both sides of the road, received them in profound silence. As they proceeded on their route, a few bystanders, here and there, took off their hats and cheered, but they never amounted to more than a dozen at any one time. The applause of these persons was sometimes opposed by a hiss from others, but the great mass of the people remained entirely passive.... Shortly before two o'clock, their Majesties quitted the ground. The people had, by this time, assembled in great numbers along the road. His Majesty was received with mingled applause and (p. 123) disapprobation; but the Queen, who was exposed to the public gaze, her carriage having been thrown open since her arrival, was assailed with loud yells. In this way, the Royal party proceeded through Hyde Park, and down Constitution Hill, where the disapprobation of the mob was more unequivocally expressed, and continued, without a single attempt, as far as we could perceive, to turn the current of feeling, until their Majesties entered the gardens of St. James's Palace, amidst a shout of the most discordant sounds."

Rien n'est sacré pour un sapeur. Not even the Archbishop of Canterbury in his own cathedral town! On August 7th, his Grace drove into Canterbury to hold a primary visitation of the diocese, and, as usual, the Corporation received him at the Guildhall; but, no sooner had his carriage appeared in sight, than the most deafening noises rent the air; and, when he arrived at the Guildhall, the groans and hisses were tremendous. After dessert, his carriage was ready and his Grace stepped in, evidently much alarmed. The hisses and groans were now renewed, and missiles of every description hurled at the carriage—hats, caps, pieces of brickbat, cabbage-stalks, indeed, everything the ruffians could collect. To make matters worse, the postillion missed his way, and had to return, thus running the gauntlet a second time. When his Grace entered the precincts of the cathedral, the large gates were instantly closed; but several hundred persons had previously gained admission, and ranged themselves within the walls of the deanery, where hisses and groans prevailed. His Grace received no injury, although one of the carriage windows was broken.

(p. 124) CHAPTER XII.
1832.

The first reformed Parliament — Steam communication with India — State of Ireland — Lawless behaviour — Malversation of justice — O'Connell and the Trades' Political Union — Crime in Ireland.

On August 16th the King in person prorogued Parliament, and on December 3rd it was dissolved, by proclamation, and the country was plunged into all the turmoil of a General Election. This was to be the first reformed Parliament, and all sorts of evils arising from its democratic tendencies were prophesied. But it turned out better than was expected. It was reserved to our later days for the title of Member of Parliament to be turned almost into a byword and reproach; and some of the persons who sat in the parliament of 1892-5 would not have been tolerated, nor could their speeches and remarks have been delivered. True, there was not a prize-fighter in that parliament, as there was in the first reformed one, but John Gully, the member for Pontefract, was respectable after his kind. From a butcher boy he became a pugilist, and William IV., as Duke of Clarence, witnessed his first fight, in 1805, with the "Game Chicken." Then he turned a publican, and retired from the ring in 1808. He then became a (p. 125) betting man and owner of racehorses, was a temporary royal page at the coronation of George IV., made a lot of money in his profession, bought Ackworth Park, near Pontefract, which little pocket borough he sat for from December 10, 1832 to July 17, 1837.

Worthy of note is it that an iron steam vessel, built for the East India Company, and intended to be employed as a towing vessel on the Ganges, was taken on a trial trip, on October 13th, down the Thames, having the chairman and several members of the court of directors of the Hon. East India Company on board. This, certainly, was in advance of the times, and one can scarcely believe that the same body of men could sanction the following letter, within a month afterwards:—

Ireland had not improved during the last twelve months; resistance to the payment of tithes had become open and systematic, and the question of the Repeal of the Union was openly advocated. Notices (p. 126) were scattered all over the country bidding the people to refrain from paying tithes, and threatening the police, should they interfere, with a similar fate to their brethren at Knocktopher, which has already been described. Says the Annual Register—

Crime, however, continued unchecked. The clergyman of Borrisokane, in the county of Tipperary, having found it necessary to seize and sell some cattle belonging to refractory debtors, the combination prevented an auctioneer from acting and purchasers from bidding. The cattle were offered back to the owners at the low price bid for them, but this was scornfully refused. They must have blood, the more especially as the attendance of the military at the sale had prevented violence there. A driver, accompanied by a son of the clergyman, conducted the (p. 130) cattle to a neighbouring fair. On the public road, and in the broad daylight, the non-payers of tithes murdered the driver; and, although his companion (p. 131) did survive, it was only by mistake—they left him for dead upon the highway. Another clergyman was shot dead on his own lawn, while overlooking the labours of his servants.

But, occasionally, these gentlemen got the worst. To secure the tithes, certain proceedings were necessary in surveying and valuing. The persons engaged in performing these duties everywhere required the protection of the military. In the beginning of September, proceedings of this kind were to be adopted in the parish of Wallstown, county Cork; the peasantry assembled to resist; they attacked the military; the latter had to fire in self-defence, and four of the peasantry were killed, and several others wounded.

Again, a party of armed police being engaged in this duty, in a parish in Kilkenny, in the beginning of October, the police were compelled to fire, and two persons were killed. But these are enough horrors for one year.

The accompanying illustrations give a dinner, two ball, and a walking dress; also some modes of hair dressing which were in vogue in this year.

(p. 132) CHAPTER XIII.
1833.

Employment of children in factories — Evidence — Passing of Factory Act — Gambling — Crockford's club — Gambling "hells" — Police case.

At the opening of this year, perhaps, the principal topic of conversation was about the treatment of children in factories, and general commiseration was felt for their unhappy condition. This was principally owing to the publication of the evidence taken before the Committee on the "Factories Bill," two or three extracts from which I give, taken haphazard, and not picked out as being the worst—

I could give numerous cases similar to the above, did space permit, but this committee did good work, and the fruit of its labours may be found in 3 and 4 Gul. IV. c. 103, "An Act to Regulate the Labour of Children and Young Persons in the Mills and Factories of the United Kingdom," which received the Royal Assent on August 29, 1833. Subsequent legislation has vastly improved upon this Act, and the little workers are now so protected as to make it difficult to add anything for their benefit.

One of the great vices of the age was gambling. Not so much on the turf, as at present, nor had gambling in stocks become a science, as now; but dice and cards were rampant, and might be indulged in, from the lordly club to the silver hell. They were as difficult to get at as similar institutions are in the present day, when they are cropping up again as badly as ever.

The most aristocratic of these "hells" was "Crockford's" or, familiarly, "Crockey's," in St. James's Street. It was so called from its proprietor William Crockford, who formerly kept a small (p. 138) fishmonger's shop adjoining Temple Bar. In some manner he made some money, either on the turf or by gambling at cards; he set up a gaming house on a most extensive scale, on the site now occupied by the Devonshire Club, No. 50, St. James's Street. Gronow, "Celebrities of London and Paris," 1865, p. 103, gives as good an account of this famous club as any one. He says—

For a good account of Crockford's career, I may refer my readers to Bentley's Magazine, vol. xvii., pp. 142-155, 251-264.

(p. 141) But to show how prevalent was gaming at this time, I give the following paragraph in the Times, January 24th, copied from an evening paper:—

(p. 142) In these cases, nowadays, our magistrates look upon a raid upon a gaming-house as a very trivial affair, inflicting only mild fines upon the offenders. They might peruse, with advantage, the practice of their predecessors. Take a case at the Westminster Sessions, on May 9th—

(p. 143) CHAPTER XIV.
1833.

The overland route to India — The Government and Lieutenant Waghorn — Police magistrate and the press — Cobbett and the British Museum — Prevalence of influenza — "National Convention" riot — Policeman killed — The coroner and the jury — Adulteration of tea.

We saw how, in 1832, the East India Company refused to accelerate communication with India by means of steam vessels. I have now to record the earliest efforts of Lieutenant Waghorn, in his famed overland route to India, which, however, did not become an accomplished fact until October, 1845. The Times, February 6th, thus comments on the conduct of Earl Grey's ministry in this matter—

"It will hardly be credited that Mr. Waghorn, who is on the point of leaving England, to carry personally into effect one of the most important enterprises in which any man has ever yet engaged—namely, the shortening by one half the time of our communications with India—has been refused, by Sir James Graham, a commission as Lieutenant in the Navy, a rank to which he is fairly entitled from his period of service, and which is most material to his success. The Board of Control, the Admiralty, nay, the whole of the Government, profess the desire to have this great project fully brought to bear; they admit Mr. Waghorn's qualifications, attested by nearly the whole mercantile community of India, for the undertaking; they are relieved, through his and their means, of all expense or thought or trouble about the success of it; the only thing asked is a Lieutenant's commission, simply (p. 144) because Mr. Waghorn is aware of the far greater attention which the rank of a British officer will procure him from the Pacha of Egypt, and would willingly, to obtain it, relinquish the pay of that rank, and yet it is refused by those to whom his labours, if successful, must prove of incalculable benefit!"

Another little instance of prejudice, which broader thinking has rendered impossible, nowadays, is given in the Times, March 21st—

Yet one more case of ignorance and prejudice—which (p. 145) occurred in the House of Commons, on March 25th, when the report of the Committee of Supply was brought up. On the question that the House do agree with the Committee in the resolution that a sum not exceeding £16,884 be granted to his Majesty for the expenses of the establishment of the British Museum—

"Mr. Cobbett rose to object to the resolution. He saw no reason why the sum of £16,000 should be paid out of the general taxes of the country for the sake of supporting the British Museum. In former times, when Mr. Bankes superintended the expenditure of the British Museum, the grant to it did not exceed £10,000. Then he thought the grant unjust, and now he could not imagine why, in the present distressed condition of the country, it should be raised to £16,000: for when was the British Museum of the slightest use to the country at large? Last year there was £1000 paid for a collection of insects; what use could that collection be of to the weavers of Lancashire, or to the farmers and tradesmen of distant parts of the country? The plain fact was that the British Museum was of no use at all! It was a place to which curious persons went to entertain themselves, by gratifying their curiosity, and in which the rich were accustomed to lounge away their time at the expense of their poorer countrymen. For his own part, he did not know where the British Museum was (much laughter), and was not acquainted with its contents. He thought that this sum of £16,000, granted by the Committee, was just £16,000 thrown away for the gratification of a set of loungers, who had first taken care to get enough out of the taxes to enable them to lounge away the rest of their lives in complete idleness. He also objected to this grant because there was £10,000 of it, and more, paid away in salaries, and to whom? If a list of the parties to whom those salaries were paid were laid upon the table of the House—and he would undertake to say that it should shortly be laid there—it would be found that they were paid away to the aristocracy and their dependents. He would move for a list of those who received them." (Several voices: (p. 146) "The list is published already.") "Who, he should like to know, were the maids who swept out the rooms of the British Museum? Doubtless they were the daughters of the head officers of the establishment. He would say that a more scandalous job than this grant never disgraced this Government, and that was saying a great deal. (Laughter.) He should conclude by moving that this report be recommitted."

Of course no one was on his side, and the grant was passed.

From April to July this year influenza was very prevalent, sparing neither rank, age, nor sex. It was not a new disease, for it was known in 1580, when it preceded the plague; in 1658, it was followed by a fatal epidemic fever; in 1743 by the plague; in 1762 by violent dysentery; in 1813, by ophthalmia and dysentery, and in 1831 by the cholera. The Medical Gazette, of May 5th, says—

"As to the rest, so far as regards the metropolis, the influenza has been plague enough, without looking for another. It has been a hundred-fold more prevalent than cholera was, and we are inclined to believe has proved fatal, within the last fortnight, to a greater number of persons than that disease carried off in London within an equal period. Certainly this holds good with respect to the upper and middle classes of society, among whom a large number of aged persons have fallen victims to it. The increased mortality of the metropolis during the present epidemic, is strikingly exemplified by the weekly account of burials. That ending April 16th exhibits an increase over the preceding of 266; that ending April 23rd, another increase upon the above of 209; that of May 1st, a further increase of 165; making the entire increase in the number of funerals last week equal to 640; and this, too, within the limits of the Bills of Mortality. The epidemic is now, however, rapidly on the decline, though a considerable number of relapses have occurred, and many continue to linger under its effects."

(p. 147) It spread both to Ireland and Scotland, but ceased about July.

On April 30th, an attempt to repeal the House and Window Tax was made, but was not successful. The window tax was especially obnoxious, as it led to keeping out light and fresh air from rooms that sadly needed both, and it lingered on until July 24, 1851, when it was repealed by Act 14 & 15 Vict. c. 36, and a duty upon inhabited houses was levied in its place.

In this reign there could scarcely be political agitation without violence, and we find on May 13th, there was even murder committed. The following account is taken from the Annual Register, as being more condensed than the newspaper reports:—

The verdict was quashed, and a man named George Nursey was charged with the policeman's murder, but the prosecution failed in getting a conviction.

Here is a somewhat curious police report treating of an extinct industry. Indeed, I doubt whether it would have obtained in 1833, had not tea been so dear. Times, May 14th—

(p. 165) CHAPTER XVI.
1834.

Corporation commission — Curious advertisement — Discovery of treasure — Bribery at Liverpool — Duke of York's statue — Trades' unions — Skit thereon — Riot at Oldham — Unionist oath — Union meeting and monster petition — Its fate — Duke of Wellington made Chancellor of Oxford — The Princess Victoria's lover.

The first thing of importance in this year was the resumption of the sittings of the Corporation Commission, which was an inquiry into the Corporation of London. This object of envy has been several times attacked, sometimes partially despoiled; always threatened, yet always vigorous, it is the red rag of the Radical bull. This Commission did the usual thing—took evidence, and came to nought.

The year itself was very uneventful in social incidents, so that I must draw upon divers odds and ends illustrative of the times. Here is the advertisement of a particularly cool gentleman, culled from the first page of the Times, January 17th—

Next is a paragraph from the Cambrian, quoted in the same Times—

On March 19th the House of Commons passed a bill disenfranchising the Freemen of Liverpool for bribery at the late election, but it did not pass the Lords. Liverpool had formerly an unenviable notoriety for this sort of thing, and it is said that in 1830, when Messrs. Denison and Ewart contested the borough after the death of Mr. Huskisson, it cost each of the candidates over £40,000! The Times of February 26, 1834, in a leading article on this election, says—

The statue of the Duke of York was placed upon its column in Carlton Gardens on April 11th, and the Examiner of the 12th thus speaks of it—

In May, people were much exercised about Trades' Unions, which were then being formed, and, as is their nature, leading to strikes, some of which were then becoming serious, as in the cases of the cotton spinners and the journeymen tailors. An attempt was made to turn the movement into ridicule, as shown by the following, but without effect—

People hardly knew what to make of these Trades' Unions, and, at their beginning, they seemed to be somewhat antagonistic to authority, and decidedly subversive of existing institutions. And, perhaps, in the first flush of his emancipation, the working man had somewhat crude ideas of his position, and was a little too fond of processions, meetings, and showing himself in public. For instance, on April 15th, there was a riot of a serious description at Oldham. On the previous day, two members of a Trades' Union, at a meeting of their body, were arrested by some policemen, after a desperate struggle. They were on their road to Hollinwood, near Manchester, under the custody of two officers, for the purpose of being examined, when a large crowd attacked the officers, whom they beat severely, and rescued the prisoners. This occurred in front of Bankside Mill, which belonged to a Mr. Thompson, who was disliked by the Unionists on account of his employment of "Knobsticks," or men not belonging to the Union. These "Knobsticks" had (p. 172) been provided with arms for their defence, but, as it turned out, used them for offence; for, appearing at the windows of the building, they made a foolish display of their weapons, and fired blank cartridge at the passing mob. One gun, at least, must have been loaded with ball, for a man named James Bentley was killed.

This so incensed the mob, that the windows of the manufactory were immediately demolished, the dwelling house of the proprietor entered, and a total destruction of its contents effected. The liquors were drank in the cellars, the cabinets rifled and broken, the victuals eaten, and about £50 in money stolen. One of the lower rooms was filled with printing cloths, to which the mob set fire. The arrival of a party of lancers eventually caused the dispersion of the mob. The two Union men who were rescued afterwards surrendered, and were liberated on bail; meanwhile, the town was in a state of great confusion. A meeting of upwards of ten thousand operatives was held next day on Oldham Edge or Moor, at which resolutions to support their fellows were made. At a coroner's inquest subsequently held on the body of the individual who was shot, a verdict of manslaughter was returned.

The Times of May 5th gives the following as—

It was for taking unlawful oaths, probably of this kind, that six men had been convicted at Dorchester Assizes, a fact which so worked upon the Trades' Unions of London, that on April 21st they met in their might to the number of thirty thousand, in Copenhagen Fields, and proceeded in procession to Whitehall to present a monster petition (which it took twelve men to carry) in the convicts' favour, to the Home Secretary. Lord Melbourne refused to receive it, thus brought, but consented to see a deputation. This did not suit the agitators, (p. 174) and, as the only answer they could get was that Lord Melbourne had seen a copy of the petition; that he did not disapprove of its language; and that, if that petition should be presented on another day, and in a becoming manner, he would receive it and lay it before the King;—they retired, taking the petition with them, rejoining and reporting their interview to the main body of the procession, which had halted on Kennington Common. This broke up the meeting, and the crowd melted away, having behaved most peaceably. On the 24th the petition was presented to Lord Melbourne by a deputation from the Trades' Unions, and laid before the King in the usual way.

On the death of Lord Grenville, the Duke of Wellington was made Chancellor of the University of Oxford. He had previously received the distinction of having been made (in absentiâ) a D.C.L. of the University in 1814, when this honour was also bestowed on the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and Marshal Blücher. At his installation on June 10th he wore his Chancellor's robes of black silk and gold, and H. B. has given us a very graphic portrait of him on this occasion: and he was attended by the Marquis of Londonderry, Lord Montague, Lord Apsley, Lord Hill, Lord Mohun, Sir George Murray, Sir Henry Hardinge, Sir S. Acland, Sir Robert Inglis, and Sir Charles Wetherell. There were likewise present eleven members of the episcopal bench. Among the ladies were to be seen (p. 175) the Princess Lieven, the Marchioness of Salisbury, and the Countesses of Clanwilliam and Brownlow. The Rev. John Keble of Oriel, so well known to us as the author of The Christian Year (then professor of poetry), wrote the installation ode—and the Duke's reception was magnificent.

The Princess Victoria had not long entered into her fifteenth year when she had a lover, whose story is thus told by the Courier of July 24th:—

(p. 178) CHAPTER XVII.
1834.

Crockford's and game — The chef in trouble — Burning of the Houses of Parliament — The tapestry in the House of Lords — Story of one piece — Temporary House of Lords — Tithe riots in Ireland — Change of Ministry.

One would imagine that Crockford's gambling "hell" was too solemn a place to extract laughter from, but yet there is a police case in connection with that place, and in which the celebrated chef Ude was principally concerned, which is the reverse of serious.

By the Budget of July 25th, the House Tax, which was imposed in 1695, was repealed, as was also the stamp duty on almanacks, which had existed since 1710.

(p. 180) The talk of the year was, undoubtedly, the burning of both Houses of Parliament on the evening of October 16th, caused by the overheating of a flue whilst some workmen were burning a quantity of old Exchequer tallies. The following account is taken from the Annual Register.

"The two Houses of Parliament, with nearly all their various offices, the old Painted Chamber, associated with a thousand historical reminiscences, the libraries of the two houses, etc., all fell a prey to a destructive fire, which broke out about half-past six o'clock in the evening. The flames suddenly burst forth near the entrances of the two houses, and immediately burnt with a fury almost unparalleled. In less than half an hour from the first discovery of the flames, the whole interior of the building from the ground floor to the roof presented, through the numerous windows with which it was studded, one entire mass of fire. Thousands of persons instantly assembled, the engines were in attendance, the police and soldiery on the spot, and every exertion was made to save the public papers and other important documents, vast quantities of which were conveyed to a place of safety, although many were unfortunately consumed.

"All attempts to save the House of Lords proving abortive, the firemen directed their attention wholly towards the House of Commons, and to the preservation of Westminster Hall. The wind, which previous to this time had blown from the south, at eight o'clock veered somewhat towards the west, thus throwing the flames immediately upon the House of Commons, the angle of which, abutting upon the House of Lords, caught fire; and, notwithstanding the utmost exertions of the firemen, assisted by the military, the roof ignited, and fell in with a tremendous crash, accompanied with an immense volume of flame and smoke, and emitting in every direction millions of sparks and flakes of fire. This appearance, combined with the sound, resembling the report of a piece of heavy ordnance, induced the assembled multitude to believe that an explosion of gunpowder had taken place.

(p. 181) "The flames now took a different direction; but the danger to the Hall appeared more imminent than ever. From the House of Commons the fire appeared to retrograde, as well as to advance, and, whilst the Speaker's house (which was partially burnt) was placed in jeopardy on the one side, the range of Committee-rooms, situate immediately over the members' entrance to the House of Commons, opposite to Henry VII. chapel, appeared to be entirely enveloped by the devouring element. A dense black column of smoke issued from the roof of this part of the building, which was almost immediately followed by a large column of flame, and the south end of the wall was therefore at this time encompassed by burning edifices. At this period several engines were introduced into the Hall, and an immense quantity of water was distributed over every part of the building. The firemen and soldiers employed on the exterior of the building also redoubled their exertions, apparently wholly regardless of the danger to which they were exposed by the falling of burning rafters and the showers of molten lead which poured down upon them on every side. Their efforts were eventually crowned with success. That venerable structure escaped comparatively uninjured, as did the official residence of the Speaker.

"From an official statement published by the Commissioners of Woods and Forests, it appears that, in the House of Lords, the Robing-rooms, the Committee-rooms in the west front, the rooms of the resident officers, as far as the octagon tower at the south end of the building, the Painted Chamber, and the north end of the Royal Gallery, abutting on the Painted Chamber, from the door leading into that chamber as far as the first compartment of columns, are totally destroyed. The Library and the adjoining rooms, as well as the Parliament offices, and the offices of the Lord Great Chamberlain, together with the Committee-rooms, housekeeper's apartments, etc., in this building are saved.

Burning of the Houses of Parliament, October 16, 1834.

"In the House of Commons, the House, Libraries, Committee-rooms, housekeeper's apartments, etc. (excepting the Committee-rooms Nos. 11, 12, 13, and 14, which are capable of being repaired), the official residence of Mr. Ley, clerk of the House, and all the rooms of the Speaker's house, from the oriel window to the south side of the House of Commons, are entirely destroyed. The state drawing-room under the House of Commons, the Levee-rooms, (p. 183) together with the public galleries and part of the cloisters, are very much damaged.

"The loss of records sustained is not important, nearly everything of value having been printed; but among those of the House of Commons destroyed, are the test and qualification rolls, signed by the members after taking their oaths; and the original Warrant for the execution of Charles I. is said to be missing from the House of Lords.[15] ... The books in the lower library of the House of Commons were saved; but those in the upper room, including the quantity lately received from France, were destroyed. The lover of ancient art has to regret the tapestry of the Spanish Armada, the fragments of ancient painting in the Painted Chamber, and St. Stephen's Chapel; and the probable necessary demolition of, at least, the latter of those structures. Some fine relics of ecclesiastical architecture will, however, still be preserved in the Speaker's house. A curiosity saved from the fire, is an oak table marked with the blood of Perceval."

Luckily, drawings of the tapestry hangings in the House of Lords had been made, and a fine set of engravings of them were published by John Pine in 1739. There were ten pieces, each illustrating some phase in the attacks and defeats of the Spanish Armada; and Joachim de Sandvart tells us[16] that the designs for this tapestry were made by Henry Cornelius Vroom, a famous painter of Haarlem, eminent for his great skill in drawing all kinds of shipping; and that it was woven by Francis Spiring. There is a bit of a story attached to one piece of this tapestry, vide the Times, Dec. 5th—

"At the time the gallery in the late House of Lords was (p. 184) erected, the tapestry was removed from that portion of the wall which faced the throne, in order to make way for the gallery; and the tapestry so taken down, forming part of the ancient and well-known painting of the Spanish Armada, was placed for safety in a room appropriated to the Lord Chamberlain. The tapestry lay there for some time; but it would appear that little value was attached to it. Subsequently, a servant of Major McArthur, conceiving that the tapestry was little better than a useless piece of lumber, offered it, as a present, to a man named Ware, one of the ticket porters employed about the House of Lords; who, however, would not accept it as a present, but gave the servant five shillings for it. He, subsequently, sold it for fifteen shillings to a broker named Preston, who in turn, made cent. per cent. upon the article, having sold it for thirty shillings to Mr. Thorn, in whose possession it remained. The tapestry lay among other curious articles for some time in the ware room of Mr. Thorn; and, after the destruction by fire of the Houses of Lords and Commons, he considered that his purchase might be turned to good advantage. As it now became a precious relic of what the flames had destroyed, he set upon it a considerable price (said to be no less a sum than £400). The tapestry was, for some time, exhibited to the curious customers by whom his shop was frequented; and, at length, Mr. Thorn, conceiving that his Majesty's Government might feel desirous to become the purchasers of so curious a memorial, wrote to Lord Melbourne upon the subject, and, subsequently, to his Grace the Duke of Wellington; in consequence of which, the Commissioners of Woods and Forests ordered an inquiry to be instituted, with a view to ascertain by what means Mr. Thorn became possessed of the tapestry."

The inquiry ended in the tapestry being restored to Mr. Thorn.

Parliament, which had been prorogued to October 23rd, had to be further delayed in its meeting till November 25th, the library of the House of Lords being fitted up for the ceremony of prorogation. It (p. 185) represented the old House as nearly as possible. At one end was a gold-burnished chair, which had to do duty for the splendid throne (of Geo. IV.) which was destroyed; and in front of it appeared a seat or form for the Lords Commissioners, and a miniature representation of the woolsack; there were also benches on each side, and even cross benches, all duly covered with scarlet cloth. There was a large table in the centre of the chamber, and on it were the identical boxes that heretofore had appeared on the table of the old House. The Commons assembled in the committee-rooms, Nos. 4 and 5, which had not been touched by the fire.

It was determined that the House of Lords should be immediately fitted up for the next session of the House of Commons, and the Painted Chamber for the House of Lords; which, Sir Robert Smirke reported, might be effected at an expense of £30,000. These works were immediately commenced, and the Houses were ready for the reception of members, when they met again on February 19th of next year.

Apropos of this conflagration, Raikes says in his Journal—

"Mr. Hume, during the last session, had been proposing, without success, a vote to build a larger House of Commons; a wag in the crowd, watching the progress of the conflagration, exclaimed, 'There is Mr. Hume's motion carried without a division.'"

It had not been a very eventful Parliament, that of 1834. A Bill for the removal of the civil (p. 186) disabilities of the Jews was passed in the Commons and thrown out in the Lords, as was also a modified Coercion Bill for Ireland. But that did not prevent outrages in that country, which were still frequent. One of the most deplorable of the tithe riots was in December, and took place at Rathcormack, county Cork. The tithes had been attempted to be levied in November, but so much obstruction had been made, that troops were applied for, and were furnished on the 15th of December. On that day every disposition to resist was shown by the country people; but, although it was necessary to read the Riot Act, the persons employed in the collection of the tithe succeeded in levying part of the sums due. On the 18th, a larger number of persons assembled, and attempted to obstruct the magistrates, and the civil and military force which accompanied them. The end of a lane which led to a farm-house was blocked up by a car; and a body of about six hundred men resisted its removal and the further progress of the party. Orders were given by the magistrates to clear the passage; the violence of the people became greater. The Riot Act was then read. The troops were assailed with volleys of stones; some of the soldiers and officers were knocked down; and, after every attempt to persuade the people to disperse had failed, the magistrates ordered the troops to fire. This they did, and a considerable number of the mob were wounded, and several killed.

On November 14th Lord Melbourne put his (p. 187) resignation and that of his colleagues into the hands of the King, who applied to the Duke of Wellington to form a new cabinet; but the Duke advised his sovereign to entrust this duty to Sir Robert Peel, and as Sir Robert was spending the winter in Italy, he offered to carry on the public business until he could return. A messenger was at once sent off, who arrived in Rome on November 25th. Sir Robert left (p. 188) next day, reached England on December 9th, and by the end of December the official arrangements of the new ministry were complete. This was the third ministry in 1834, the premiers being Earl Grey, Lord Melbourne, and Sir R. Peel.

The dresses illustrated are two for walking, one dinner, and one for a ball. The front and back of a cap are also shown.

(p. 189) CHAPTER XVIII.
1835.

First cargo of ice to India — Election riots at Halifax and in Scotland — A female sailor — The new temporary Houses of Parliament — The King and others hissed — Question of admitting ladies — A political skit — Deaths of Hunt and Cobbett.

The chronicle of this year must be made up of odds and ends, for there is no one thing of absorbing interest to record. And first, we find a paragraph in The Times of January 11th (quoting the Mechanic's Magazine), headed

Owing to the resignation of the ministry in November, 1834, Parliament was dissolved, and a General Election took place—which, after the manner (p. 190) of the times, conduced to riotous behaviour in several places. At the close of the poll at Halifax, on January 14th, the yellow, or Reforming party, attacked various houses, public and private. In some, they contented themselves with breaking windows only; in others, they entered the premises, broke all the window frames, window shutters, inside and out, and other wood-work, and completely demolished every article of furniture within their reach. The mob, three hundred in number, entered the house of Mr. J. Norris, simultaneously, through the dining-room windows, library windows, and by breaking down the principal door. All the windows were broken to pieces—the window frames, in many places; and the whole furniture in the dining-room and library, and all the pictures, with the exception of six or eight, which were badly injured, were destroyed; whilst the plate was stolen, the bookcase was smashed, and quantities of books were taken from the shelves and torn to pieces. These, with music books and prints, were scattered over the lawn in front of the house, and in the garden, until the place looked as if it had been covered with snow. A grand piano was smashed to atoms, together with other musical instruments; a marble mantelpiece was broken, and the place was wrecked.

A similar attack on the vicarage was repelled. At Shaw Lodge, the residence of Mr. J. Holdsworth, the mob entered the house, and demolished all before them. At the Field, Mr. J. Staveley's house (p. 191) was attacked and entered, and all the furniture, pictures, etc., were smashed, as well as the windows and window frames of the house and warehouse adjoining. Many other houses were attacked and received different degrees of damage, and the mob did not disperse till the arrival of a troop of lancers.

In Scotland, serious rioting took place at Jedburgh and Hawick, polling places for the County of Selkirk, when Captain Elliot, the ministerial candidate, was defeated by Lord John Scott. On the morning of January 17th, the second day of polling, the Jedburgh mob, having learned the probable success of the Conservative candidate, began to assume a surly aspect. Lord John Scott, on making his appearance, was loudly hissed; and, when leaving the town, a few ruffians assaulted him, by throwing pieces of ice, etc., but, fortunately, without doing him any injury. In the afternoon, when the certain defeat of Captain Elliot's party became evident, symptoms of restlessness were displayed by a great part of the crowd, and several voters and others, in the interest of his lordship, could only with great difficulty reach the polling place; later in the evening the conduct of many of those assembled became more outrageous, and several of the friends of Lord John Scott were struck and abused by the mob; but the streets were quiet at night.

At Hawick, the mob was much more riotous. (p. 192) On the 16th, the first day of polling, notwithstanding the strong constabulary force sworn in for the occasion, the crowd got very noisy, and used every sort of annoyance to the voters for Lord John Scott, such as pushing, spitting, throwing stones and snowballs, and tearing clothes, etc., while they cheered the voters for Captain Elliot. As the day advanced, the rabble got worse and worse, insulting and maltreating all voters, and others friendly to his lordship's cause, in defiance of the strenuous efforts of the sheriff and a number of the justices of the peace, the bailies and others. The Sheriff ultimately found it necessary to read the Riot Act.

On closing the poll for the day, the mob surrounded the Tower Inn (where Lord John's voters were), and, whenever any person attempted to leave the inn to go home, he was immediately attacked and abused; in consequence of which a great number were compelled to remain at the inn during the night. The doors of the inn were frequently attempted to be forced open, most of the windows were broken; and, in the course of the night, the windows of the houses of many of the inhabitants were riddled with stones. An additional number of constables were sworn in on Saturday.

The mob appeared more desperate than on the preceding day, and every means of intimidation were practised to prevent Lord John's voters coming forward; in one case where a voter in that interest was going to the booth in a carriage, the crowd (p. 193) attempted to upset it—and, upon his voting and returning from the booth, he was seized, in spite of the efforts of the constables, and abused and maltreated. The Riot Act was again read, and the town became quieter, especially when a troop of the Scot's Greys arrived. Captain Elliot, the defeated candidate, in his address after the election, thanked the populace for their orderly conduct!

I have given these as specimens of ante-ballot elections in time when William IV. was King.

Most of us know the ballad of Billee Taylor, how he was impressed and taken to sea—and how

And some of us may probably know the true history of Mary Ann Talbot, who fought both in the army and navy, and was wounded both in the ankle and in the thigh, a little above the knee, in the action of the "Glorious First of June." She lay in Haslar Hospital without her sex being discovered, afterwards was taken prisoner by the French; then shipped to America as steward, and when going a voyage to the Mediterranean, was impressed, and discovered her sex rather than serve again in the navy.

But her story belongs to the latter part of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries. Here is one, happening in this year, and is thus (p. 194) reported in all the newspapers of the time, and in the Annual Register.

Parliament was to meet on February 19th, and there was but scant time to prepare and furnish places for them to meet in. As these temporary premises have long since been consigned to limbo, and as even very little tradition remains of them, I may be pardoned for giving a short contemporary account of them, which contrasts forcibly with the beautiful palace in which our legislature is now housed.

At the opening of Parliament, the Dukes of Cumberland and Wellington, several of the bishops, and some members of the House of Commons, were soundly hissed; nay, the King himself, when he opened Parliament on the 24th, was served the same, and two men were taken up for the said offence—one of them not only having groaned in a violent manner, but having called out, "There goes a d—d villain." Both had to find bail to keep the peace, self in £40, and two sureties in £20, which, not being forthcoming, they were locked up in default.

Whilst on the subject of this new Parliament, I may mention that on March 12th, the Hon. C. Berkeley gave notice that on May 1st he should move that a portion of the Strangers' Gallery in that House be set apart for the accommodation of ladies—which elicited "great laughter." But his motion never came off, for, on the date fixed, the House was in its Easter vacation, but was referred (p. 200) to a committee to report on. On April 9th Sir Robert Peel and his ministry resigned, and was succeeded by Lord Melbourne as Prime Minister.

Anent this, on June 1st, two men were charged at Bow Street, with causing a great mob by halloaing forth an harangue, entitled, "The political form of Matrimony between the Whigs and the people"; a portion of which is as follows:—

"Now, there was a man in the House of Incurables, whose name was Melbourne, and that man was perfect and upright. There was a day when the Reformers came to present themselves before the King and Bobby;[17] and Billy[18] said unto Bobby, 'Whence comest thou?' And Bobby answered, 'From going to and fro from St. Stephen's.' And Billy said, 'My servant Melbourne is perfect and upright, and one that feareth the King and supporteth the rights of the people.' And Bobby said, 'Do they serve the people for nought? Put forth thine hand and touch his office, and he will mock the people to their face, place for place, pension for pension—yea, all that the Whigs have, will they give for their pensions.' And Billy then said to Bobby, 'His office is in thy power.' And a messenger came unto Melbourne and said, 'Thy Ministry is dissolved, and Bobby is chosen in thy stead, and I alone am left to tell thee.' Then Melbourne arose and rent his wig, and shaved his head, and fasted three days in sackcloth and ashes. 'Pensionless came I unto office, and pensionless shall I go out. Billy gave, and Billy taketh away; and blessed be the name of Billy.'"

Lord Melbourne, however, remained Premier during the whole of the King's reign. Whilst on politics, I may mention that two noted Radicals died this year—Henry Hunt in February, and William Cobbett on June 18th.

(p. 201) CHAPTER XIX.
1835.

Gambling house police case — Curious superstition — A cook's letter to her mistress — Jews and public employment — Fire at Hatfield House — Curious discovery of jewels — Scarcity in Ireland.

Under the year 1833, I called attention to the prevalence of gaming-houses, but, in spite of the efforts made to put them down, they still flourished, as we see from the annexed police report, taken from the Times of July 7th.

In this year was finished a monument to the memory of George IV., which was erected at Battle (p. 203) Bridge, now known as King's Cross. It was a composition statue of the king, about eleven feet high, and it stood atop of an octagon building of brick and cement, which was used first as a police station, and afterwards as a public house, whilst the pediment of the statue was utilized as a "Camera obscura." It was demolished in 1845, and it is said that the basis of the statue's nose was a draining tile, and that it was offered to a gentleman for sixpence!

We come across a curious superstition. Two men were executed for burglary, at Horsham, on August 22nd, when the silly custom of passing the hands of the dead men over the necks of two or three females, as a supposed cure for the glandular enlargements, was upon this occasion had recourse to. And the Times of April 24, 1837, quoting the Gloucester Journal, has in a paragraph headed "Revolting behaviour of a Hangman," with which I will not horrify my readers, the following: "Several women were on the platform to have their necks charmed by rubbing the dead man's hands over their wens as a cure."

But if we get horrible paragraphs in the papers, we also occasionally meet with amusing ones, as this from the Times of September 22nd—

Although the disabilities under which the Jews laboured were not removed by Act of Parliament, public opinion was decidedly in favour of the freedom of the Israelite. Mr. (afterwards Sir) Francis Goldsmid, was the first Jew that was ever called to the English bar, and this took place in 1833. According to the Times of November 18th, quoting the Liverpool Albion, it was in 1835 that a Jew was a juror in a law court for the first time.

"It may be noted, as a novelty, that Mr. Joseph Hess, silversmith, of Lord Street, was the first person of the Jewish persuasion who ever discharged the duties of a juryman in any of the courts of this country; that gentleman, after having been sworn on the Pentateuch, forming one of the grand jury panel at the Kirkdale Quarter Sessions."

And the first Jewish alderman and sheriff of the City of London, was Mr. Sheriff (afterwards Sir) David Salamons, who was elected to the vacant gown of Aldgate Ward, on November 21st.

(p. 205) One incident which set all tongues wagging, about this time, was the great fire at Hatfield House, on November 27th, and the death of the Marchioness of Salisbury (grandmother of our present premier) by burning. She had only arrived at Hatfield on the previous day, and on the afternoon of the 27th she retired, a short time before dinner, to her dressing-room to write a few letters. At five o'clock her maid entered her apartment, and found her writing by the light of two candles. Her ladyship complained of the dimness of the light, and requested her maid to bring her a bedroom candle, which she did, and left the marchioness, who wore a very lofty headdress, writing by these three candles.

About half-past five fear was felt by the female servants of the house, in consequence of the volumes of smoke. The marquis and marchioness were alarmed, and the marquis tried to force his way into his mother's dressing-room, but found it so full of flame and smoke, as to render all hopes of rescuing her utterly desperate. The fire bell was rung, and the engines arrived from the neighbouring towns, but were of little avail, as there was a bad supply of water. That part of the west wing which looks down the noble avenue of trees by which Hatfield Hall is approached from the south, was speedily gutted by the fire. The roof fell in with a tremendous crash, and the poor old marchioness was buried in the ruins.

Another subject for talk was an extraordinary (p. 206) discovery of valuable jewels, thus told in the Annual Register, December 21st.

Matters were fairly quiet in Ireland, but there was a murder now and then. There was, however, sad distress, and this is the tale told in June. In that month, the poorer inhabitants in many places along the west coast of Ireland, particularly in County Mayo and the adjacent islands, suffered severely from a failure of provisions. At a meeting of a Central Committee for their relief, held at Castlebar, on June 15th, the Rev. Mr. Dwyer stated that the population of Clare Island amounted to three hundred families, of whom only fifteen, at most, had provisions to last the harvest. All the rest were, at that moment, in want, with the exception of twelve or fifteen families who would be (p. 209) equally destitute in a fortnight. Of nineteen families living in one village, twelve had begun to be in want in April. In that village there were six families who, if a shilling could buy a ton of potatoes, were not able to command it. All the other villages in the island were said to be still worse off.

The Rev. Mr. Conolly, from the island of Achill, stated that the crop there was short from last harvest, owing to the failure of the seed in spring, and to the north-western gales of the previous August. He had given relief to seven hundred and fifty families, and he would require thirty tons more than he had to distribute, in order to afford even six stone to each family. Many poor creatures came forward to offer the hides of the goats they had killed, as also geese, hens, stockings, and even wearing apparel, in lieu of potatoes.

A respectable inhabitant of Ihnisturk stated the number of families at about ninety, of which only five were not distressed. Some few might be able to procure food from their own resources, provided the rents were not called in, but if they were, the people would starve. Sligo's agent at Boffin and Stark had given relief to eighty-five families; fifty families were, to his own knowledge, positively in a state of starvation, and utterly destitute of means to procure relief; about one hundred families, besides, were in want; but half that number had some means, the rest had none.

The Rev. Mr. Hughes stated, that the distress (p. 210) in his parish (Burrishoole) was chiefly owing to the failure of the potato crop, some of which was lost by the perishing of the seed, and some by high winds in August. Many families were obliged to put themselves on the short allowance of one meal in the day, so early as last February; he had already seen many with the signs of starvation in their haggard countenances, and had heard them cry from hunger. He knew whole families, each of which had subsisted, frequently, for twenty-four hours on one quart meal. The population was 11,761, of which number five thousand were now actually in want; three hundred families had neither cow, sheep, nor horse, nor any other means to purchase provisions; two hundred families, at least, had not been able to make their usual sowing of potatoes for want of seed; and hundreds would necessarily perish with hunger, unless something was soon done for their relief.

The Rev. Mr. Gibbons stated the population of his parish (Kilgevar) at nine thousand. The crop failed there last year owing to the rotting of the seed and to harsh winds; two thousand five hundred persons were now in distress. About one half of these might struggle through summer, if they sold their few head of cattle to procure provisions, but the rest had no resource. The wives and children of a great many of them had already gone to beg. At subsequent meetings of the committee similar accounts were received from other parts of the (p. 211) western coasts and its islands. They exhibited the state of the country as being deplorably wretched, and the sufferings of the poor as daily and hourly on the increase. Several thousand families were reported to be without food, except the precarious sustenance they were enabled to gather in the fields, and among the rocks on the seashore. Cabbage (p. 212) and shellfish usually furnished their repast. In some places partial relief was given by the meal which the Central Board ordered to certain districts; and a resolution passed at a meeting, by which they (p. 213) requested permission of the London Distress Committee to procure, with the money remaining at their disposal, one hundred tons of meal, to give further assistance. A Mr. Owen, from the Board of Works, attended by order of the Lord Lieutenant, and informed the meeting that his mission was into Erris, where £500 was to be expended for the purpose of giving the poor employment.

The costumes, etc., given for this year are a nursemaid and children, indoor and walking dresses, and different modes of dressing the hair. (See pp. 211, 212.)

(p. 214) CHAPTER XX.
1836.

Curious case of a girl stolen by gipsies — Superstition re light at Christmas in the North of England — Designs for New Houses of Parliament — King William III. statue blown up — Admission of ladies to the House of Commons — Stuart impostors — An inter-university boat race — How Cambridge came to have light blue as a colour.

On January 15th, the Brighton bench heard the following extraordinary tale:—

There was curious superstition in the North of England, which is practically done away with in these days of lucifer matches. In the old days of tinder boxes, if any one failed to get a light, it was (p. 217) of no use his going round to the neighbours to get one, for even his dearest friends would refuse him, it being considered most unlucky to allow any light to leave the house between Christmas Eve and New Year's day, both inclusive. No reason has been found for this singular and somewhat churlish custom. An example is given in the Leeds Times, quoted in the Times of January 20th.

"Had not the following anecdote been told us on the authority of a gentleman of high respectability, we should have found some difficulty in believing that so strange a superstition had still influence on the minds of the inhabitants of the West Riding. On the night of Christmas Day our informant was returning to Leeds in a gig from a town a few miles off, and wished to light a cigar. He stopped at a cottage by the wayside, and asked to be allowed a light. 'No,' was the reply, 'thou'lt get no light here to-night.' Somewhat surprised at this surly reply, he drove on for a mile or two, and on arriving at a toll bar, again preferred his request. 'No, sir,' said the gatekeeper, 'I shall let no light go out of my house to-night.' As there was no mending the matter, our friend proceeded to another toll-bar, and a third time requested a light. He was very civilly told he should have a light with pleasure, had it not been Christmas night; but, on that night, to allow a light to be taken out of the house would insure bad luck through the next year. Here, at length, the mystery was solved. This silly superstition was the cause which led to the refusals which so astonished the traveller."

On Thursday, March 24th, there was opened to public inspection at the National Gallery the designs for the new Houses of Parliament. Of these one critic wrote—

Of these designs four were chosen as the best, Barry's plans being most approved; and again on April 28th they were exhibited publicly at the National Gallery. Eventually Barry's plans were accepted, and to him we owe our beautiful "Palace of Westminster."

On April 8th, between midnight and one a.m., the statue of King William III. on College Green, Dublin, was blown up by gunpowder. The street for some time previously had been quiet, none but the ordinary passengers being apparent, when a watchman saw a lighted train burning upwards towards the figure; he endeavoured to drag it down with his pole, but did not succeed. A second watchman came up, and told him to come away, for there was powder in it. This latter man, who warned his companion, had previously seen an attempt made to blow up the statue, but it had failed; and, fearing the danger, gave the warning. Immediately after the watchmen withdrew, a tremendous explosion occurred, as loud as a piece of artillery. The noise was heard all over the neighbourhood. Most of the gas-lamps from the College to Trinity Street were blown out, and the figure, weighty as it was, being composed of nearly solid lead, and nine or ten feet high, was thrown (p. 219) several feet in the air, and fell on the southern side of the base.

It may be remembered that, in 1835, the Hon. C. Berkeley moved the admission of ladies to the gallery of the House of Commons. A select committee was appointed to consider the subject, and their report was presented and read on May 3rd. As the debate thereon was short, and somewhat amusing, I give some of the principal speeches in extenso.

The Times of May 9th, quoting the Glasgow Chronicle, has a paragraph headed

(p. 223) This precious pair of charlatans pretended that in 1773 a son was born of the marriage of Charles Edward with the Princess Louisa of Stolberg-Gedern; that the birth was kept secret, and the babe privately conveyed on board an English frigate and consigned to the care of a naval officer named Allen, who brought him up as his own son. This mysterious child, it was further said, when grown to manhood, married an English lady in 1790, and in the following year the "Chevalier Charles Edward" was born.

John Wilson Croker in vol. 81 of the Quarterly Review (pp. 57-85), while reviewing Vestiarum Scoticum, by John Sobieski Stuart, and Tales of the Century, by John Sobieski and Charles Edward Stuart, ruthlessly demolishes this pedigree, pointing out that if the Pretender had had an heir, it was his interest to publish and not to conceal it; that in his will he only recognized one child, his natural daughter, the Countess of Albany; that his brother, Cardinal York, considered that he was King of England; and finally proved that these two adventurers were none other than John and Thomas Allen, the sons of Admiral Allen.

"John Sobieski" died in February, 1872, and there is a biographical notice of him in the Times of February 17th, 1872, but more may be read about these brothers in the Edinburgh Review of July, 1861, and the St. James's Magazine of January, 1872.

The Oxford and Cambridge boat race, as we know (p. 224) it, did not commence until 1845,[19] but there were inter-university struggles before that date, as we see by the Times of June 20th.

The boats were eight-oared as now.

"The course was the then Champion Metropolitan Course, from Westminster to Putney. It was in this race that Cambridge first adopted light blue as their colour, and that apparently by accident. They were on the point of pushing off from Searle's yard at Westminster, when somebody remarked that the boat had no colour in the bow. One person suggested one colour, and one another. At the last moment, Mr. R. N. Philips, of Christ's, a well-known oarsman in those days, ran over to a haberdasher's close by, and asked for a piece of Eton blue ribbon or silk. This was produced, and the crew adopted it con amore. Since those (p. 225) days Cambridge has worn light blue; while Oxford, for the sake of contrast, have rather deepened their shade of the same colour. The jerseys of Cambridge were white, and those of Oxford blue and white stripes." "Record of the University Boat Race, 1829-1883," by G. G. T. Treherne and J. H. D. Goldie, p. 12. London, 1884.

(p. 226) CHAPTER XXI.
1836.

Report on the British Museum — The King and the Duchess of Kent; a scene — Inauguration of George III.'s Statue at Charing Cross — Poetry at the police court — The trip of the Nassau balloon.

The British Museum had hitherto been the home (so to say) of red tape, so much so, that it seemed as if every possible obstacle was placed in the way of people enjoying and benefiting by that magnificent institution. In fact, its management became such a scandal, that on February 11th Mr. Estcourt moved that a select committee be appointed to inquire into its condition, management, and affairs, which was granted.

In July the committee made their report to the House, and recommended that the number of official trustees be reduced, those who do not attend to be requested to resign, and the vacancies, as they occur, to be filled up by persons distinguished by their eminence in literature, science, and art. The museum to be opened during the Easter, Whitsun, and Christmas weeks, and on all public days from ten to seven in the months of May, June, July, and August; the reading-room to be opened throughout the year at nine o'clock in the morning. A further division of (p. 227) departments to be made, the salaries of the officers to be increased, and pluralities abolished, and an improved synopsis to be prepared and sold in parts. Casts were to be made from the statues, bronzes, and coins, and sold to the public at the lowest possible price. Nothing was said about classed catalogues, nor the opening of the reading-room in the evening, the claims of both having been strongly urged. Still great reforms and concessions had been made.

The old King was very fond of his niece Victoria, but could not abide her mother the Duchess of Kent, and Greville tells one story which does not redound greatly to the King's credit.

On August 3rd the equestrian statue of George III., in Pall Mall, was inaugurated. It is by Matthew C. Wyatt, and represents the King as he appeared when reviewing the volunteer troops in Hyde Park, in 1803. It was originally intended to place this statue at the bottom of Waterloo Place, where now stands the Guards' Memorial; but it was not considered proper that the statue of the Duke of York should have his back turned to the presentment of his father, and the site proposed was consequently, abandoned. The spot it now occupies was then selected, and preparations were made to erect the statue on June 4th, the anniversary of the venerable monarch's birthday. (p. 230) The preparations were rendered nugatory by the opposition of a business firm, who considered its erection would be prejudicial to their premises. All obstacles were overcome, and the statue was placed in position.

It was unveiled by the Duke of Cumberland, in the presence of a crowd of noblemen and gentlemen, amidst much cheering, but when the duke, who was never popular, left, he was severely hissed by the crowd. The statue is an excellent likeness of the old King, and, when first erected, was of a gorgeous golden colour.

There was an amusing police case at the Mansion House on September 21st, when an old woman was charged with having presented a poetical begging petition at a bank in Lombard Street. She was very poor, and the alderman gave her two shillings.

Twice only have balloons from England crossed the Channel—once in 1785, and again in 1836—and, from its rarity, the fact deserves chronicling. On January 7, 1785, François (or Jean Pierre) Blanchard and Dr. Jeffries crossed the Channel in a balloon, starting from Dover, and alighting a few miles from Calais. This feat, in the very infancy of aerostation, was considered very wonderful, and Blanchard earned, in France, the title of Don Quixote de la Manche. They started at one p.m. and descended in the Forêt de Felmores at three p.m. They took with them provisions, cork jackets, philosophical instruments, letters, and oars, with which they fondly hoped to be able to steer their aerial craft. Their voyage is thus commemorated in contemporary song—

(p. 232) Louis XVI. gave Blanchard a present of twelve thousand francs, and a pension of twelve hundred francs per annum.

On November 7, 1836, the feat was again essayed and was very successful. Mr. Green, a veteran aeronaut, Mr. Monck Mason, and Mr. Holland, ascended from Vauxhall at 1.26 p.m. In the car were upwards of a ton of ballast, several gallons of brandy and wine, and a large supply of coffee, cold fowls, ham, etc. There were also a supply of blue lights, stars, and other fireworks, to be let down at night if the voyage were not accomplished before dark, in order to enable the aeronauts to reconnoitre the country from their elevation, and choose the point of their descent, and a number of parachutes, to which letters were fastened, to be dropped at intervals, for the purpose of apprising the public of their transit, arrival, and safety. They were, moreover, furnished with passports from the French and Dutch embassies, and with a letter to the King of Holland from his representative in this country. The balloon landed in perfect safety at a village called Weilburg, in Nassau, at 6.30 next morning, after a prosperous voyage of seventeen hours, having traversed a space equal to about 480 English miles.

Of course they were made a great fuss of. The use of the ducal manège was immediately tendered for the occupation of the balloon, and military sentries, more as a guard of honour than for defence, were posted at the gates and avenues leading to the (p. 233) place of its reception. Balls, dinner parties, and other festivities were given in its honour, and, last (p. 234) of all, it was named, with great éclat. The balloon was inflated as much as space would allow, and Mr. Green and eight young ladies entered within it. A daughter of the Baron de Bibra then named it the "Great Balloon of Nassau," a large quantity of wine was drank, and the company regaled themselves with the remains of the plentiful supply of food taken in the balloon from England. It was afterwards exhibited in Paris.

The illustrations of ladies' dress include two walking dresses as well as an indoors and evening dress. It will be noted that the very graceful scarf was introduced in this year. (See preceding page.)

(p. 235) CHAPTER XXII.
1837.

Epidemic of influenza — A scene in some Metropolitan graveyards — Lord de Ros and his cheating at cards — Invention of sewing machine — Coming of age of Princess Victoria — Illuminations, etc. — The Spitalfield's silk weavers' ball — Illness of the King — His death and burial.

This year opens dismally with influenza in a most virulent form. To give some idea of its ravages, let me quote the Standard of January 12th—

"The epidemic now raging has been seriously injurious both to public and private business. On Saturday ninety clerks were absent from the Bank of England, but on Tuesday the absentees amounted to a hundred and thirty. At the Post Office, Custom House, and Excise Office, as well as the Government Offices at Somerset House and Whitehall, and at all the theatres, similar inconvenience is daily felt, from the illness of the clerks and others employed. Nor is the evil resulting to business from the effects of this epidemy confined to public establishments. Upwards of sixty men have been absent from the brewery of Messrs. Barclay and Perkins within the last few days; the same number from Maudslay's the engineers, in the Westminster Bridge Road; seventeen from the warehouse and shop of Ellis on Ludgate Hill; twenty from Hitchcock and Rogers'; and as great a number from Shoolbred's. Indeed, so much has the influenza prevailed in some quarters, that whole families have been laid up, their business entirely suspended, and their shops closed; such is the case with a shop in the Minories, and also with a public house in the neighbourhood of Grafton Street, Gower Street."

(p. 236) On the 16th the same paper tells us of three judges and many members of the bar incapable of work through this cause—and also that, within the last fortnight, sixty-four of the pensioners in Greenwich Hospital had died of the complaint; but the scene on Sunday, January 22nd, as reported in the Times and the Annual Register, seems to have been very bad—

At the Court of King's Bench Lord Denman and a jury spent the 9th and 10th of February in trying an action for libel brought by Lord de Ros, the premier Baron of England, against a Mr. Cumming, who had accused his lordship of cheating at cards. The trial excited the greatest interest, and was attended by most of the nobility and members of good clubs.

It was charged against Lord de Ros that, at the whist table, he frequently contrived to have a violent fit of coughing when his deal came round, which obliged him to put his hands under the table; and then it always happened that he turned up an honour; and that the aces and kings in the packs Lord de Ros played with were frequently marked, slightly, but perceptibly, with the thumb-nail. Many (p. 238) gentlemen swore to their having been cheated by these tricks, and some refused to play with Lord de Ros; and, though others did not shun him after his cheating had been discovered, they sent him anonymous notes of warning, and hoped that he had left off cheating. The play of these gentlemen was sometimes very high, and one of them, Mr. Brook Greville, admitted that he had made £35,000 by play; another, Captain Alexander, said that he was a "better man by £10,000 for card playing."

On the part of Lord de Ros, it was stated that he had a stiffness in his finger-joints, which prevented him from playing tricks with cards, though he could cut and shuffle them. But Sir William Ingleby swore to the repeated frauds of the peer. He had seen him fifty times perform the trick called "sauter la coupe;" which, in effect, was to cut the cards so as always to turn up an ace or a king when he dealt. Several witnesses proved that the aces and kings of the packs with which Lord de Ros had played were marked. The persons who gave evidence against Lord de Ros were, generally, professed gamblers; but no evidence was adduced to prove that they had any spite against his lordship, or that any conspiracy had been formed to ruin him. There never was a clearer case against any delinquent; and the jury took only fifteen minutes to determine upon their verdict, which was in favour of the defendant. This was equivalent to the conviction of Lord de Ros of cheating at cards, and he took the very (p. 239) prudent step of leaving England that night for Rotterdam.

People are apt to consider that the sewing machine is an invention of our own time. But the Times of March 8th says otherwise—

"A master tailor of Amsterdam, named Weiland, a German by birth, has invented a machine which performs the task of sewing a garment as well as it can be done by hand. The King of Holland has just presented him with one hundred ducats, but the tailors have vowed vengeance against him."

The old King felt his health failing him, and his fervent wish was to live until the Princess Victoria was of age. As Greville writes, May 23rd—

"The King prayed that he might live till the Princess Victoria was of age, and he was very nearly dying just as the event arrived. He is better, but supposed to be in a very precarious state. There has been a fresh squabble between Windsor and Kensington about a proposed allowance to the Princess."

The King's present to the Princess, on her birthday, was a magnificent grand pianoforte by Broadwood, of the value of two hundred guineas.

The coming of age of the Princess, on May 24th, was kept with festivity throughout the kingdom, but especially at Kensington. At six a.m. the union jack was hoisted on the summit of the old church, and also on the green opposite the palace. At this latter place it was surmounted by a splendid flag of white silk, on which was inscribed, in sky blue letters, the Princess's name "Victoria." From the houses of the principal inhabitants of the High Street were (p. 240) also displayed the royal standard, union jack, and other flags of all colours and dimensions. Soon after six, the gates of Kensington Gardens were thrown open to the public, and it having got wind that her Royal Highness would be serenaded at seven (the hour when she was born) the place was thronged with a large assemblage of well-dressed people.

As early as nine a.m. visitors arrived to enter their names in the Duchess of Kent's book, and during the whole day, up to a late hour in the evening, the palace was crowded with company, so much so, that they were obliged to leave it by another gate. Their Royal Highnesses received their household at half-past twelve, and the following members of the royal family at two: the Princess Sophia, the Princess Sophia Matilda, the Princess Augusta, and the Duke of Sussex. In the course of the afternoon the Duchess of Kent, the Princess Victoria, and the Princess of Leinengen drove through the parks in an open carriage.

At night a State ball was given at St. James's Palace, the Princess Augusta receiving the company on the part of the Queen. The ball opened with a quadrille, the Princess Victoria being led off by Lord Fitzalan, eldest son of the Earl of Surrey, and grandson of the Duke of Norfolk. Her Royal Highness subsequently danced with Prince Nicolas Esterhazy, son of the Austrian ambassador.

The following is the Times account of the celebration of the birthday in London:—

Fraser's Magazine for June had a rather smart sonnet on that majority of five, called

The next thing of interest was "The Spitalfields Silk Weavers Ball," held on June 1st, at the King's Theatre. After the Edict of Nantes, nearly fifty thousand French artisans and manufacturers fled into England, and the silk weavers located themselves at Spitalfields and Bethnal Green. At this time their trade was very bad, and there was much distress among them. This being represented to the King and Queen, they commanded that a ball should be given at the King's Theatre for the benefit of the weavers, and at which their Majesties intended to attend. All the feminine portion of the royal family and the principal ladies of the nobility were patronesses, and a royal command was given that no ladies should appear dressed in other than satin or silk of Spitalfields manufacture, and that those gentlemen who were not attired in military or naval uniforms should wear fancy waistcoats of the same fabric.

The theatre was specially and beautifully decorated for the occasion; the front of the boxes were hung in festoons of satin and silk (all of Spitalfields manufacture), the grand tier being purple, with the badge and insignia of the Order of the Garter; the second tier crimson, with the badge and insignia of the Order of the Bath; the third tier light blue, (p. 244) with the badge and insignia of the Order of St. Patrick; the fourth tier green, with the badge and insignia of the Order of St. Andrew; and the fifth tier light blue, with the badge and insignia of the Guelphic Order. Five of the centre boxes were thrown into one, and a large projecting balcony erected for the reception of the royal visitors, and two boxes on either side for the accommodation of members of the household. The pit was boarded over and made even with the stage.

Weippert's band of sixty-four performers formed the orchestra. Mr. Kendon, dancing-master to the Princess Victoria, acted as master of the ceremonies, and special precautions were taken to prevent the admission of improper characters. With that view the patrons and patronesses gave vouchers to those who were anxious to be present, which were afterwards exchanged by Mr. Willis, of Almack's, for the regular tickets of admission, of which about 2300 were sold. Not a seat was empty, and the ball was a decided success.

Neither the King nor the Queen were able to attend, for the poor old man was moribund. A slight decline of strength had been perceptible to the immediate attendants of the King at the commencement of the year, but it was not till the month of May that the state of his Majesty's health excited any serious apprehensions. On the 17th of that month he held a levee, but, on his return to Windsor Castle, he showed great signs of debility and (p. 245) exhaustion, with oppression of breathing, in consequence of which he had considerable difficulty in ascending the staircase; and when he had reached the corridor was under the necessity of resting on the nearest sofa. He tried to keep up as well as he could, but on June 7th his physicians found him much worse. On June 8th his illness was noticed in the "Court Circular," with a notice that the state entertainment intended to have been given at the castle to the knights of the several orders was indefinitely postponed; indeed, on that day, in obedience to the Queen's wishes, the party staying at the castle dispersed.

Day after day he grew worse, with just a little flutter of improvement when the Waterloo memorial flag was presented to him, when he expressed himself as glad to see it, and begged the Duke of Wellington to be told that he desired the Waterloo banquet to be held as usual, and hoped it would be an agreeable dinner. He gradually sunk until June 20th, when the following bulletin was issued:—

Death came to him so gently, that some doubt existed as to the precise moment at which he actually (p. 246) did expire. The stroke of death was almost imperceptible.

He lay in state on July 7th in the Waterloo Chamber at Windsor Castle, and the public were (p. 247) admitted to see him from ten till four. The next day—or rather on the night of the 8th—he was buried, with all the pomp and the solemnity usual on such occasions, in a vault in St. George's Chapel.

The dresses for 1837 are two walking-dresses and a ball dress, and also a child's costume, with different fashions of hairdressing.

(p. 248) CHAPTER XXIII.

Men's dress — Education — School advertisements — The original of Squeers — Girls' schools — Tea as a meal — Food — A foreigner's sketch of an English dinner-party — A high-class dinner — An ideal dinner.

Men's dress was very much as in our time, the trousers were somewhat tighter, the coat collars higher, the waistcoats were worn more open, and there was somewhat more than a soupçon of stays. Hair was worn long and artificially curled, and no one but a cavalry man, or a blackleg, wore a moustache. The neckcloths or "stocks," as they were called, must have been veritable instruments of torture, being lined with slips of whalebone, and coming tight under the chin; a rivulet or rather river of satin flowed over the shirt, and was fastened by two pins connected by a chain. But, if any one wants the man's costume of William the Fourth's reign he will find it in the very familiar engravings by "Phiz," to Pickwick and Nicholas Nickleby. Elderly gentlemen still wore knee breeches and silk stockings, with gaiters for outdoor wear, and among them the pigtail was still to be found; nay, I recollect two old gentlemen who wore them, as I also remember (p. 249) some middle-aged men wearing the very handsome Hessian boot.

The Spanish cloak came in about 1834, and in the following advertisement we see its size and price, together with the prices of other clothes. Times, November 19, 1834—

"Spanish cloak of superfine blue cloth, a complete circle of 9-1/2 yards, £4 4s.; Opera ditto, £2 2s.; boy's ditto, £1 1s; camlet ditto, 11s.; boy's ditto, 12s. Fashionable Petersham great coat, bound, £2 2s.; Saxon frock coat, faced silk, £2 10s.; an elegant suit of superfine cloth, complete, £4 4s.; the very best that is made, £4 15s.; suit of livery, £3 3s. Contract prices:—Two suits per year, £6 6s.; extra fine quality, the very best, £7 7s.; three suits, £10 17s.; ditto, £12 5s.; four suits, £14 6s.; ditto, £15 18s.; the old to be returned. Stout cloth winter trousers, 13s. 6d."

Respecting education in England at this time, Count Edouard de Melfort, who wrote his Impressions of England in 1836, says—

"Even in the lowest classes in England it is difficult to find a person who does not know how to read or write. There is scarcely any village, however insignificant, which has not its 'National School;' and, without meaning any offence to other countries, I think I may assert that the education of the people in England is superior to that of any other."

In this opinion, I think, the Count is too optimistic, for the lower classes were woefully uneducated, my early experience being that comparatively few could read and write, especially in the rural districts. The upper class, of course, received an education to prepare for the Universities; and, in the middle-class, a classical education was decidedly predominant over (p. 250) one that would fit its recipient for mercantile pursuits. The ordinary boarding-schools charged from thirty to forty-five guineas per annum, but their proprietors had a knack of including extras, which very greatly increased this sum. Here is an advertisement of a middle-class school in 1830—

"Exeter College, Snaresbrook, six miles from London, for the reception of gentlemen designed for mercantile pursuits, the legal and medical professions, the naval and military institutions, and the Universities. The number is limited, they are parlour boarders, and each has a separate bed. The establishment is under the immediate attention of the Principal and resident classical assistants, with the regular attendance of professional gentlemen of eminence in the departments of French, drawing, music, dancing, &c. Terms per annum—A mercantile course, with mathematics, history, geography, use of the globes, astronomy, etc., twenty-five guineas; or with the classics, in Latin, Greek, and including drawing, music, and dancing, thirty guineas; any one of the languages or accomplishments selected with the first course, four guineas. Every department of this establishment is arranged and conducted on the most comprehensive scale of liberality. The pupils are the sons of private and professional gentlemen of the highest respectability in London and various parts of the kingdom," etc.

This was a comparatively cheap school. Let us take another, to which well-to-do people would be likely to send their children. It was situated near Newbury, and was conducted on the plan of a regular grammar school—

"Young Gentlemen are received from 4 to 20 years of age. Terms—from 4 to 10 years of age, 25 guineas; 10 to 15, 35 guineas; 15 to 20, 40 guineas; parlour-boarders, 80 guineas per annum."

(p. 251) But there were lower class schools—such as Dickens has immortalized in Nicholas Nickleby. He says in his preface to the 1839 edition that he meant no one in particular, but we may, perhaps, think differently after reading what I have to write. We all remember the story when Snawley brings his sons-in-law to the Saracen's Head—

That Dickens saw the following advertisements there is no doubt, for they were inserted every half-year throughout the reign, in the Times—

(p. 252) Times, July 15, 1830—

"Education. By Mr. Shaw, at Bowes Academy, Greta Bridge, Yorkshire.—Youths are carefully INSTRUCTED in the English, Latin, and Greek languages, common and decimal arithmetic, book-keeping, mensuration, surveying, geometry, geography, and navigation, with the most useful branches of the mathematics, and provided with board, clothes, and every necessary, at 20 guineas per annum each. No extra charges. No vacations. Further particulars may be known on application to.... Mr. Shaw attends at the George and Blue Boar, Holborn, from 12 to 2 daily, where a card of particulars may be seen."

Times, September 18, 1830—

"At Kirby Hill Academy, near Richmond, Yorkshire, conducted by I. Nelson and assistants. The system of instruction comprehends all the usual branches of a liberal education, comprising the Greek and Latin Classics, mathematics, etc., at 22 guineas per annum. No extra charges. No vacation. French language and drawing on the usual terms. I. N. will attend daily at the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill, etc."

In these two advertisements we have, in the first, Greta Bridge and Squeers's prospectus; in the other, his London place of abode, the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. Bowes is about five miles from Castle Barnard.

Mr. Jonathan Bourchier sends a communication to Notes and Queries (4th S. xii. 324) enclosing extracts from a letter from an old friend who writes from Bowes—

(p. 254) A girl at boarding-school cost about the same as a boy, but day schools seem to have been very cheap, judging by one in Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, where the governesses say, in their advertisement, that

"Their system of education is the result of close observation, blended with long experience; and it embraces all the advantages of a superior private instruction, with those which will ever be found to exist in a well-conducted school. Terms, including reading, geography, history, grammar, and useful and ornamental needlework, one guinea per quarter. The Misses Thompson are assisted in the departments of penmanship and arithmetic, the French, Italian, and Latin languages, music, drawing, and dancing by professors of eminence, on the usual terms."

But I fancy the following advertisement appealed to a far richer clientèle:—

"At a first-rate Finishing Ladies' Seminary, Vacancies occur for a few Pupils. The system of education adopted is of the highest order, embracing superior and peculiar advantages. In addition to an extensive course of English studies, invaluable to young ladies finishing their education, they will be perfected in the French and Italian languages, music, comprising the harp, pianoforte, and singing, with a knowledge of harmony and thorough bass, drawing, dancing, and every research in science and literature to qualify them to move in the first circles."

We may note that the guitar, which was then very fashionable, is not mentioned, and we never find the German or Spanish languages taught. The dancing comprehended galop, mazurka, waltz, quadrilles, and a variety of fancy dances, such as the shawl dance, etc., which were never used out of dancing academies. The poor little dears had no (p. 255) other physical exercises, no swimming, nor Swedish gymnastics, and their punishments consisted in being put in the stocks, which made them turn out their toes, and in the back-board, which tended to expand the chest and cure round shoulders. Their principal relaxation was, as now, a solemn walk in procession.

Afternoon tea, as we know it, was unknown; but, as people dined much earlier than now, it was a fairly substantial meal of hot buttered toast, muffins, Sally Lunns, and other tea cakes. It was essentially a chatty cosy meal, the same that Cowper sang of—

Either the copper tea-kettle sang on the hob or on a trivet on the bars, or the tea-urn hissed on the table; whilst on the polished brass three-legged trivet, standing on the hearth, were the muffins, crumpets, toast, or what not, keeping nice and hot. In many middle-class houses a toasting-fork hung with a hearth broom by the side of the mantelpiece, and it was thought no harm for the younger portion of the family to "make the toast" by the dining-room fire. The tea drank was exclusively of Chinese growth, that of India and Ceylon never having been dreamed of, and the prices (retail) ranged from 3s. 6d. to 7s. 6d. per lb. A paragraph in the Times, July 15, 1836, gives us an idea of the amount consumed.

"Yesterday the East India Company" (who at this time had the monopoly of the tea trade) "issued their declaration for the sale of teas in September next. The declaration amounts to (p. 256) 4,000,000 lbs., and comprises 500,000 lbs. of bohea, 2,770,000 lbs. of congou, souchong, and pekoe, 600,000 lbs. of twankay, and 130,000 lbs. of hyson. In the present declaration there are 100,000 lbs. less of bohea than in the June sale, 100,000 less of twankay, an increase of 170,000 lbs. of congou, souchong, &c., and 30,000 more of hyson. The whole amount of bohea teas entered under the Treasury minute for payment of the duty of 1s. 6d. per pound until the 1st of August next is above 12,000,000 lbs."

With regard to the food, it was plain and wholesome, but was supplied with such prodigality that the table literally "groaned" under its weight, and I may safely say that at a dinner-party there was at least six times more food provided than the guests could eat. It was their way of showing hospitality. There was some truth in the description by the old French émigré, who found England uninhabitable, because "there were twenty-four religions and only one sauce, no ripe fruit but roasted apples, and that each man ruined his health in drinking to the health of others." But as it is good sometimes to "see oursen' as ithers see us," let us hear what Count Melfort has to say on the English middle-class dinner in this reign. After giving a most humorous description of the mauvais quatre d'heure before dinner, he says—

In No. XVI. of the Original, September 2, 1835, in an article on the "Art of Dining," there are the following criticisms on contemporary dining, which show that some of the sore points were known then:—

The writer, previously (in No. XV.), gives his views of an ideal dinner, which he seems to think perfection—

(p. 262) CHAPTER XXIV.

Clubs — Theatres — Other amusements — a foreigner's idea of London — London streets and noises — "Buy a broom?" girls.

How did the people amuse themselves? For men of the upper class there were clubs, which were nothing like so numerous as now. First of all comes White's, the doyen of all existing clubs—founded as a Chocolate House in 1698; then, in the next century, the still surviving clubs were Boodle's, Brooks', and Arthur's; while those of the present century are the Guards (1813), United Service, Travellers, Union, United University, Athenæum, Oriental, Junior United Service, Wyndham, and Oxford and Cambridge. In William the Fourth's reign the following came into existence: the Carlton and Garrick, 1831; the City of London, 1832; Reform, 1835; and the Army and Navy, 1837. These, it will be seen, are purely class clubs; the social clubs were generally held at some respectable tavern, and their names are as unknown now as their numbers.

There were fifteen theatres in London: (1) The King's Theatre or Italian Opera, (2) Drury Lane, (p. 263) (3) Covent Garden, (4) Haymarket, (5) English Opera or Lyceum Theatre, (6) Adelphi, (7) Olympic, (8) Astley's, (9) Surrey, (10) The Coburg (named after Prince Leopold) in Waterloo Road, now the Victoria, (11) Sadler's Wells, (12) City of London (defunct), in Shoreditch, (13) Queen's Theatre, Tottenham Street, Tottenham Court Road (now tenantless), (14) Pavilion, in Whitechapel, and (15) the Garrick, in Leman Street, Whitechapel, no longer used as a theatre. This latter was, on January 20, 1831, prosecuted at the Middlesex Sessions for being unlicensed. "Francis Wyman, Benjamin Conquest, and Charles John Freer, were indicted for having, on the 1st of December, and on divers days since, kept a house for dancing, music, and other like performances, called the Garrick Subscription Theatre, and situate within twenty miles of London, not having a licence obtained at the Michaelmas Quarter Sessions of the Peace for that County." The offence was proved, but the chairman ruled that the performance of music or dancing, as incidental to a play, or in an interval between the acts, did not constitute the keeping of a place for "performing music, dancing, and such like performances," within the meaning of the Act. The evidence showed this place was conducted as a theatre, and, as such, the parties were liable to be proceeded against under other Acts of Parliament, but he could not say they ought to be convicted under this. Not guilty. This little theatre was particularly recommended as (p. 264) closing by eleven o'clock—the performances at the others lasting till twelve or after.

The following notices as to the prices and commencement of performances of those which survive will be interesting for comparison with their present arrangements:—

Vauxhall was open for singing and for dancing, for those who could never hope for entrance into Almacks; and, for those who liked Tom and Jerryism, there were many places which were open all night. But, during the day, for serious people and families there were many attractions. One of them, the bazaar, is practically dead. There were the Soho Bazaar, and the Queen's Bazaar, in Oxford Street, opposite the Pantheon, in which was exhibited the "Royal Clarence Vase," which was made of cut (p. 265) coloured glass, in 2400 pieces, so joined as to be water-tight. It weighed eight tons, its height, including the pedestal, was fourteen feet, and the inner diameter of the bowl was twelve feet. The Pantheon, now the offices of Messrs. W. & A. Gilbey, was opened in May, 1834. It was one of the largest bazaars, with counters for 250 standings for the sale of fancy articles, millinery, jewellery, etc., and there were many rooms devoted to the reception of paintings and statuary. There was the King Street Bazaar, Baker Street, and something like the bazaars were the Western Exchange, between Burlington Arcade and Old Bond Street, and the Burlington and Lowther Arcades.

The Thames Tunnel, though far from complete, was open to the public on payment of a shilling, which sum would also admit to the Exhibition of the Royal Academy at Somerset House. Where the Empire Music Hall, in Leicester Square, now stands, was Miss Linwood's Exhibition of Needlework-pictures, mostly copies from old masters, done in coloured wools. There were the Malediction of Cain, David with his sling, Reynolds's Laughing and Sleeping Girls, Jephtha's Vow, etc., etc.—and very beautiful they were. Entrance, two shillings. In Leicester Square, too, was Burford's Panorama, in which, in April, 1832, were exhibited panoramas of Bombay and Florence. In May, same year, at the Queen's Bazaar, was the Physiorama and the Diorama, with eighteen views altogether, among which were Bristol (p. 266) on fire, Melrose Abbey by moonlight, Joshua commanding the sun to stand still, and the Coronation in Westminster Abbey. At the Colosseum in Regent's Park, finished in 1827 and demolished in 1874, was the famous Panorama of London, which covered nearly an acre of canvas, painted, under the superintendence of Mr. Parris, from sketches made by Mr. Horner in 1821, from St. Paul's, at the time when repairs were going on above the dome of the cathedral. The visitor was raised to the level of the panorama by means of a lift, which in those days was considered a wonder. To see this cost one shilling, whilst for another you might see the Conservatories, Marine Cavern, Swiss Cottage, Waterfall, Alpine scenery, etc. This year, too, there was another panorama at Burford's, a view of Milan, and, during the reign, there were several others, as well as changes at the Diorama.

At the lower end of St. Martin's Lane was the pavilion of the gigantic whale, which was found dead, floating off the coast of Belgium, on November 3, 1827. The skeleton, which was exhibited, was ninety-five feet long, and eighteen broad, and the prices to view were a shilling each person, and "for those who sit in the belly of the whale two shillings." In Bond Street the curious might visit the "Papyro Museum," which was a collection of many groups of miniature figures moulded in paper, and habited and coloured to the life. They were modelled by two ladies, sisters, and took four years to execute. It was not (p. 267) successful, and its fate is described in the following quaint advertisement. Times, September 15, 1832—

In May, 1834, was exhibited at the Baker Street Bazaar, a "Padorama," or a continuous view of the railroad and the adjacent country through which the line of road passes between Manchester and Liverpool. And the same month and year was opened a "Cosmorama" in Regent Street, with views of the Hippodrome at Constantinople, the town of Grenoble, the interior of the Cathedral of St. Gudule at Brussels, the Lake of Thun, and the adjacent Alps, Isola Bella on the Lago Maggiore, the Cascade in the Park of St. Cloud, the Monuments at Philœ, on the Nile, and the Convent of St. Bernard. These two exhibitions seem to have been ephemeral, but the panorama in Leicester Square, and the diorama in Regent's Park, still held their own.

Another ephemeral exhibition took place in this year, which is described in the Times, June 9—

In Tichborne Street was "Weeks' Mechanical Exhibition," where, among other things, was shown an automaton tarantula spider, made of steel, which ran backward and forward, stretched and drew out its legs, and moved its horns and claws. There was also an "animated white mouse, formed chiefly of oriental pearls. This little animal runs about the table, and feeds at pleasure, and looks so tempting that the most daintily fed tabby might consider it a bonne bouche. A caterpillar, the colours of which are represented in enamelled gold and brilliants, is an admirably minute copy of animated nature; it is seen feeding on the foliage of a golden tree. Nor must we forget the figure of an old woman, who at a call comes forth from her cottage, walks leisurely about, supported by the occasional use of her crutches, while the joints in her arms and legs are all in apparently natural motion!" Madame Tussaud's exhibition of waxwork was not open all the year (p. 270) round; up to 1834 the show was in Gray's Inn, and afterwards at the Lowther Rooms, King William Street, Charing Cross. Another minor exhibition was the "Microcosm" in Regent Street, near Piccadilly, where, "by means of the solar microscope, one wine-glassful of river water is shown to contain reptiles of all descriptions, from the newt to the lizard!"

The Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park were opened to the public in 1828, and William IV. considerably augmented the collection of the larger beasts, by presenting the Society with the menagerie which used to be maintained at the Tower. And there were also the Surrey Zoological Gardens, in Manor Place, Walworth, which were first opened to the public in August, 1831. Here was a small menagerie compared with that of the Zoological Society, the property of Mr. Cross, who removed here from Exeter Change, and the gardens were more for popular entertainment. There was a large lake, and, although the place was opened on a somewhat scientific basis, it soon came to be only for amusements, such as concerts, fireworks, etc. It was sold soon after 1862, and is now all built over.

The London of that day was not beautiful, dull rows of houses utterly devoid of any ornament met the eye everywhere. Architecture was practically unknown, and the only improvement that had been made for many years was the building of Regent Street. It was reserved for the Victorian era to (p. 271) redeem the apathy of the past. Hear what a foreigner, Baron d'Haussez, writing in 1833, says—

"In the more recently built parts of London there is nothing imposing but the breadth and handsome proportions of its streets; and in the City nothing but its immense population and the impress of life which commerce imparts to it. With the exception of the churches, whose style, whether Greek or Gothic, is tolerably pure, few buildings fix the attention of a stranger; but a great number may surprise him by the profusion or the singularity of their ornaments, or by the beauty of their site. To this cause, and to the irregularity in the line of buildings, is chiefly owing the effect produced by the houses in Pall Mall, Waterloo Place, Regent Street, and Regent's Park. So much pains have been taken to reproduce the ancient style of architecture, that one might fancy one's self in an ancient Greek or Roman City; there is not a house which has not a monumental character. The slightest examination reveals the numerous imperfections, the glaring faults of imitation without taste, without reason, and at variance with the commonest rules of art."

The Baron is equally outspoken as to some of the social aspects of the metropolis—

"One is often tempted to ask, not if there is a police in London (its agents in a blue uniform, with numbered collars, scattered everywhere, night and day, would render that question superfluous), but what the police does, so little attention is paid to its details—so great its seeming negligence, in order not to appear over meddling: certain it is, however, that the interference of the police is not visible in the cleanliness of the streets, nor in the indication of their names (for the names are wanting at the end of most streets), nor in the passing to and fro of carriages, which are drawn up pêle mêle at the entrance of all public places, according to the irresponsible caprice of their drivers. It often happens, in consequence of this confusion, that vehicles of all sorts become locked together; this gives rise to a reciprocation of abuse and blows; nor is the interference of the police here (p. 272) apparent as regards animals, which, in being driven on market days from one end of the town to the other, occasion frequent obstructions and often serious accidents. A certain class of women, too, in spite of English modesty, exercise their shameless calling in a most brazen manner, unchecked by the police; neither do they abate those nuisances of stalls, dangerous to the health and safety of the public; nor bestow the attention on an infinity of objects which, in other countries, claim and deserve the attention of the Municipal Administration. In England, trifles like these are disregarded, and interference is limited to matters of more importance. On the other hand, there are few capitals where robberies are more infrequent, where robbers are so soon discovered and punished, or where popular movements (brought about generally, it is true, by a populace without courage, and unaccustomed to the use of firearms) are sooner suppressed; where there are fewer disastrous occurrences, fewer collisions between the different classes of society; or where all these results are obtained with so little constraint, vexation, and noise."

But it was a very noisy city, this London. The watchmen, not altogether done away with, would croak out his "Past twelve o'clock, and a frosty morning;" the milkwoman made the early morning hideous with her shrieks, as also did the chimneysweep and the newsman, who brought your morning paper; the peripatetic vendor of fish, or cats' meat, cried out, the dustman rang a bell and yelled, whilst all sorts of street hawkers helped to swell the din. Muffin men not only cried out but rang a bell, as did also the postman; but then his bell was legalized and useful, as, on hearing it, people could rush to the door and give him the letters needing posting instead of going to a post-office, which might be some distance off, and there were no pillar-boxes in those days. (p. 273) Then, too, the postmen wore the King's scarlet. The streets were noisy, the roads being paved with squared stones, asphalte never having been dreamt of, and wood-pavement being only just mentioned by the Mechanic's Magazine, quoted in the Times of October 27, 1835—

"We observe from the New York papers, that a trial is about to be made in that city of the plain paving with wood followed in St. Petersburg, and repeatedly recommended by us for adoption in the more retired parts of our own metropolis. A part of the Broadway has been selected for the purpose. 'Each of the small blocks of wood is of hexagonal shape; the whole are fitted together and driven up tightly, by a long strip of timber near the (p. 274) gutter at the side; and the interstices between the blocks to be well covered with tar or pitch.'"

One of the features of the streets at that time was the "buy a broom girl," so called from her cry. Her costume was picturesque, and she was rather an ornament to the extremely prosaic street.

Their lives were not always happy, as we may see in the Times of October 5, 1830—

(p. 275) "One of the Dutch girls, who obtain a livelihood by selling brooms, applied to the magistrates at Lambeth Street for a summons against the man who brought her over to this country for withholding her wages. It appeared, from her statement, that it was the practice for the dealers in brooms to bring over a number of girls, at miserable wages, which are contracted to be paid when the girl returns to Germany. Many, therefore, have an opportunity of defrauding the girls of their miserable pittance; and in this case, from the girl's statement, appeared likely to add to their number. She had contracted for 1s. 8d. a week to sell brooms about the country. On this pittance she was to board, clothe, and lodge herself, which she had only been able to do by the bounty and charity of the gentry in the country. Her master had run into her debt to the amount of £2, and was preparing to quit England. The magistrates ordered that the summons should be immediately granted."

Hone, who has rescued for us so many unconsidered trifles, tells us in his Every-day Book (vol. i. 809) that—

Other foreigners were there in the streets, Italian boys, who had white mice, and played the hurdy-gurdy, and Italian men, who ground upright pianos, and sometimes had a companion monkey; but the German brass band was, happily for our forefathers, unknown.

(p. 277) CHAPTER XXV.

Holborn Viaduct — Omnibuses — Cabs — Hansom's patent — Posting — Mail coaches — Stage coaches — Hotels.

On all hands, it is admitted that the streets of London were generally well paved, and there were but two bad hills, Holborn and Snow Hills, which were caused by the Valley of the Fleet. This has been bridged over in our time, but a similar viaduct was proposed in 1833. This was intended to take down the houses from the corner of Bartlett's Buildings, Holborn, to Seacoal Lane, Skinner Street, or, on the opposite side, from Hatton Garden to the top of Snow Hill, and erect a level terrace on brick arches between these points, the houses to be taken down and set back about fifty feet, or in a line with St. Andrew's Church, and the arches under the terrace to be fitted up as shops on Holborn Hill, with a handsome balustrade on the top. An ornamental arch was to be turned over Farringdon Street, on the principle of Highgate Archway. This is, virtually, what was begun about thirty years later, in 1867.

As the population of London in 1831 (taking the area as now) was only about a million and a half, it (p. 278) stands to reason that there would be but about a quarter of the traffic. The first omnibus started from the Yorkshire Stingo, Paddington, to the Bank, on July 4, 1829, and, becoming popular, these vehicles were very soon multiplied, and, in 1831, there seem to have been ninety running; for, at a meeting of omnibus proprietors on September 10th of that year, it was proposed, in consequence of the danger which arose from competitive racing, to stop thirty-three of them, and, as the chairman observed, "this diminution would leave fifty-seven of them to run, so that the public would have a regular conveyance every three minutes from Paddington to the Bank, from eight in the morning till ten at night."

As a specimen of omnibus amenities about this time I may mention a police case at Marylebone, on August 14, 1830. It was for an assault, but that was of very little moment; it related more to the convenience and safety of the public, especially the female portion; for it came out that by some of the cads (as the conductors were then called) it was considered fair play to take a lady forcibly from the steps of an omnibus she was inclined to enter and push her into another, and that the previous week, two ladies had been so mauled by four strong fellows, that they would not ride at all.

The royal assent was given on September 22, 1831, to "An Act to amend the laws relating to Hackney Carriages," etc., by which it was enacted that, up to January 5, 1833, they should be limited (p. 279) to twelve hundred, and, after that date, there was to be no limitation to their number, except that caused by the law of demand and supply. The hackney coach was a cumbrous vehicle with two horses, and, in 1823, one-horsed vehicles were introduced, called cabriolets, speedily shortened into cabs. They began modestly with twelve, and in 1831 had increased to one hundred and sixty-five. They were somewhat peculiar, as the driver sat by the side of his fare, although not with him, and the possibility of the coachman seeing the amount he was to be given, and the chance of his upsetting his passenger in case it did not meet his expectations, is humorously described in Pickwick.

On December 23, 1834, Joseph Aloysius Hansom, an architect, took out a patent, No. 6733, for "a vehicle for conveying loads, etc.," and from that time to this his name has been inseparably connected in England with cabs. Not that his cab was like the (p. 280) present "hansom," which is a product of much evolution. There was no back seat for the driver, and its "safety" consisted in its cranked axle. He sold his rights to a company for £10,000, but never got a penny piece of it. The only money he ever got out of it was £300, which, when the company had got into a muddle, was paid him to take temporary management and put things straight again.

Thanks to Mr. John Macadam, whose system of using broken stones is still adopted, the country roads were very much improved. He, unlike Hansom, received £10,000 from Parliament, and was appointed Surveyor-General of the Metropolitan roads in 1827. He died in 1836.

In describing travelling in England during this reign, I cannot do better than quote from Baron (p. 281) d'Haussez, because a foreigner looks upon things with a far more critical eye than a native, who is always used to them. Says he—

"The taste for travelling, an expensive taste in any country, is truly a ruinous one in England. If the means of satisfying it are numerous, and accompanied by all that can promote pleasure, one is steeled against this seductive consolation by the perpetual warning of a speedily drained purse.

"Posting, placed on a totally different footing from that service in the rest of Europe, is not the object of an exclusive privilege. By means of a licence, which cannot be refused, relays of post-horses are established according to the caprice or will of those who possess them. The rivalry arising from this practice does not lower the price of posting, which, London excepted, is nearly the same on all roads, and differs but little from the price of relays in France. The number of horses is always fixed at two or four, without regard to the number of travellers, or to the form or weight of the carriages. When you desire a post-chaise, the innkeeper is obliged to furnish it, without your paying an additional price. These chaises, in the shape of our coupés, are well hung, and very clean and commodious.

"England has not, as we find in France, a breed of horses specially appropriated to posting. The greater part of the post-horses in England are hunters or carriage-horses, which, having become unfit for either of these purposes, wear out the remnant of their strength in post-chaises, before they are transferred to (p. 282) hackney coaches and waggons. Their speed answers in a great degree to what one would expect from their breed. You travel at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour (about three and a half leagues), which includes the time of changing horses.

"The height of the postillions (always chosen among the smallest men), and their dress, consisting of a jacket, short breeches, and half boots, are calculated with a view to reduce to the smallest possible compass the burden of the horses. There is no difference between the town harness and that which is kept for posting. They are both in excellent condition.

"The mail coaches destined for the transport of letters are carriages with four inside and six outside places. Behind the coach the guard is seated, with a blunderbuss and a pair of pistols before him. These coaches travel at the rate of ten miles, or four leagues an hour; but their small size (for the English, in general tall and thick, appear to have little regard to their personal proportions in the size of their carriages), and the short time they stop to refresh, render them very unpleasant modes of conveyance.

"Stage coaches are very elegant carriages, built to carry fifteen or eighteen travellers, and a considerable weight in packets, but on admirable roads. This is an indispensable condition. Without it, the height of the carriages, the arrangement of the whole of the luggage on the imperial, and the lightness of the body and the axletree, would give rise to frequent accidents.

"The inside of the coach contains only four places. The seat of the coachman, and another seat placed immediately behind it, admit of six persons, and two seats facing each other, at the hind wheels, afford places for six or eight more. These seats are fixed over boots or boxes for stowing away the luggage. Such parcels as these cannot contain are placed on the imperial.

"The desire to breathe the fresh air, rather than economical considerations, induce even the richest English to give a preference to outside places. They only go inside when compelled by bad weather. The place most in request—one knows not wherefore—is to the left of the coachman; it is considered as the place of honour, and is reserved for fashionables, and even for lords, who do not disdain to travel thus. The sole advantages, which such a station appeared to me to present, were the being placed near a (p. 283) well-dressed coachman, and the escaping the chance of travelling by the side of a butcher, a shoemaker, or some other individual of that class. Each time the coachman descends from his box, his neighbour has the advantage of being made the forced depositary of his reins and whip. These are placed in your hands, as they are taken out of them again, without the least ceremony.

"The appointments of an English coach are no less elegant than its form. A portly looking coachman seated on a very high coach-box, well dressed, wearing white gloves, a nosegay in his button-hole, and his chin enveloped in an enormous cravat, drives four horses perfectly matched and harnessed, and as carefully groomed as when they excited admiration in the carriages of Grosvenor and Berkeley Squares. Such is the manner in which English horses are managed, such, also, is their docility, the effect either of temperament or training, that you do not remark the least restiveness in them. Four-horse coaches are to be seen rapidly traversing the most populous streets of London, without occasioning the least accident, without being at all inconvenienced in the midst of the numerous carriages, which hardly leave the necessary space to pass. The swearing of ostlers is never heard at the relays, any more than the neighing of horses; nor are you interrupted on the road by the voice of the coachman, or the sound of his whip, which differs only from a cabriolet whip in the length of the thong, and serves as a sort of appendage, rather than a means of correction in the hand which carries it. In England, where everything is so well arranged, where each person knows so well how to confine himself to the exigencies of his proper position, the horses do better what they have to do than the horses of other countries, and that, too, without the need of a brutal correction. One may travel from one end of England to the other without hearing the sound of a whip, or the hallooing of conductors, which in France fall so disagreeably on the ears of travellers.

"Among the wonders of English civilization, the inns should be mentioned. In many of the larger towns they are magnificent, and they are good and well supplied in the smallest. In the greater part of them the servants are in livery, and in all their attendance is prompt and respectful. On their arrival, travellers (p. 284) are received by the master of the house, whose decent dress indicates a respectful feeling towards strangers. Introduced into a well-heated, well-furnished room, they have never to wait for a meal, the simplicity of which, in the way of cookery, is atoned for by the elegance, often the richness, of the plate and ware, and the superior quality of the meat. A sleeping-room, as comfortable as this kind of apartment (so neglected in England) can be, completes the agrément of your sojourn. Your discontent does not commence till the exorbitant bill proves that such attentions, far from being disinterested, are, on the contrary, dearly charged for. Seldom do you separate from your host with a reciprocation of politeness. Yet, notwithstanding the coldness with which his attentions are received, the landlord does not cease to remain by the side of the traveller till his carriage is in motion."

With regard to the London hotels, travellers by the coaches generally stopped where they stopped, and were very fairly treated. Of course, there was none of the palatial magnificence of the modern hotel, but there was an amount of homely comfort to which the people of those days were accustomed. The West End hotels, save those for awful swells, were about Covent Garden, and Morley's Hotel at Charing Cross was one of the best. The first monster hotel in London was the Great Western, and its financial success led the way to the palaces that now adorn our West End thoroughfare.

There is an amusing anecdote re "Mine Host" given in the New Sporting Magazine, and quoted in the Times of March 27, 1835—

Of the coaching hotels enough has been written from Smollett's time, or before, to date; and, as for their number, any visitor to Barnet can judge, by those that remain, several having been made to serve other purposes. This was the first change out of London, on the great North Road, and even I remember fifteen coaches running each way, and the last one being run off. I think it was either the Luton Coach or the Bedford Times.

(p. 286) CHAPTER XXVI.

Steam carriages on roads — Commission thereon — Steam omnibus — Railways — A nuisance — Railways started during the reign — Opening of the Greenwich Railway.

But the road was not monopolized by horseflesh. Steam was asserting itself, and many were the trials of steam carriages on the turnpike roads. In 1821 Mr. Julius Griffith invented, and Messrs. Bramah manufactured, a carriage, on which the engineer sat in front, and two directors or steersmen behind, in vehicles separated from the carriage, which swung easily on a variety of springs fastened into a strong connecting frame. The error of this invention lay in the boiler, which consisted of 114 tubes. These, unfortunately, would not always contain the water; and, when empty, they became so heated, that no force-pump could inject the water. In 1822, 1824, and 1825, Mr. David Gordon tried his hand on steam carriages and failed. In 1829 Sir James Anderson and Mr. James constructed one, under the patents obtained by the latter gentleman in 1824 and 1825, and are said to have worked the engine at a pressure of two hundred pounds each square inch of the piston. In 1827 Mr. Goldsworthy (p. 287) Gurney patented one, as did also Messrs. Hill and Burstall in 1828.

There was one running in August, 1830, belonging to Messrs. Summers and Co., which began its journey by bursting a pipe. This repaired, it utterly demoralized itself by running into a turnpike gatepost at Turnham Green, and had to be taken home. Anyhow they must have become fairly common, for we read in the Times, May 12, 1831—

Again, Times, June 7, 1831, quoting the Glasgow Chronicle, says—

"Mr. Gurney's[22] steam carriage was, on Wednesday night, blown to pieces by an explosion of the boiler. The catastrophe occurred in the square of the cavalry barracks, where the carriage was exhibiting. It had gone round the square several times, (p. 288) and stopped at one corner of it, where some people got out. Two boys, sons of Mr. Maclure, of the Port Eglinton Inn, at that time entered, and were about to be followed by two gentlemen, when the boiler burst with a tremendous explosion, and shattered the vehicle into numberless pieces. The two boys were very seriously injured in the face and other parts of the body, and they now lie in very precarious circumstances."

The road steam carriage was such a novelty, that people hardly knew what to make of it, so a Select Committee of the House of Commons upon it was appointed, who reported thereon to the House on October 12, 1831. The conclusion of the report was as follows:—

(p. 289) On August 20, 1832, we hear of a steam carriage, constructed by a Mr. Hancock, intending to make an experimental trip to Windsor, and coming to grief at Dachet. In November and December of the same year we learn that a steam carriage, constructed by Captain Macirone and Mr. Squire, was running about Paddington, and that "the jolting was not much greater than an ordinary stage coach." In the Times of April 25, 1833, we read of a

Captain Macirone's steam carriage was repeatedly noticed by the Press, and in 1834 there is an (p. 290) advertisement of a company to work Dr. Church's steam carriage; but all the schemes came to nought.

When William IV. came to the throne there were practically no railways for passenger traffic; and it was during his reign that nearly all the main lines in England were projected. I now marvel at their having attained so rapid a popularity, for the travelling was very uncomfortable. The idea of a stage coach was very difficult to get rid of, and the carriages were subdivided so as to represent it as much as possible—even their outsides were modelled, as far as could be, to look like a coach, and to this day a train is, in railway parlance, made up of so many coaches. The first class were padded and cushioned, but were very stuffy, having small windows; the second class were of plain painted wood, narrow seats, no room for one's legs, and very small windows; in the third class there were no seats, it was simply a cattle truck in which every one stood up, and as there was no roof, it was rather lively travelling in wet weather.

Railways were soon considered as a nuisance to the public, and on March 30th, at York, an action of Rex v. Pease and others was tried. It was an indictment for a nuisance against the Stockton and Darlington Railway Company, which was opened on September 27, 1825. By an Act of Parliament, passed in 1821, the defendants were authorized to form a railway from Darlington to Sunderland, and, by another Act passed in 1823, they were authorized to use locomotive engines thereon. The railway (p. 291) which, it was agreed, had been formed upon the line pointed out in the Act of Parliament, was opened for public use in 1825. Only one steam engine was at first used; but the number gradually increased till there were seven in operation. This increase had been rendered necessary by the increasing business on the railway.

For about a mile and three-quarters the railway runs in a parallel line with the high-road leading from Yarm to Stockton, the two roads being at an average distance from each other of fifty yards. The nuisance complained of was the fright and danger which the noise and the smoke of the steam engines occasioned to passengers on this part of the highway. A variety of witnesses proved that accidents frequently happened in consequence of horses taking fright at the steam engine. Counsel for the railway stated that he was willing to admit that his clients had been guilty of a nuisance, unless their conduct was justified by the Act of Parliament, according to the directions of which, the railway had been formed, and the steam engines used. He suggested, therefore, that the best mode would be for the jury to return a special verdict, finding the facts already proved, and also that the defendants had used the best engines they could procure, and availed themselves of every improvement offered. The counsel for the prosecution, after some deliberation, agreed to the proposal, and a nominal verdict of guilty was recorded.

(p. 292) The first railway opened in this reign was in 1830, the Liverpool and Manchester, which melancholy event has already been noticed. In December, 1831, was opened that between Dundee and Newtyle. In 1833 the following railways were projected. The London and Bristol (G.W.R.), London and Southampton (L. & S.W.R.), London and Birmingham (L. &. N.W.R), London and Brighton, and London and Greenwich; in 1834 the Great Northern Railway; in 1835 the Eastern Counties Railway (G.E.R.), and the Commercial or Blackwall Railway. The other railways opened for traffic were the Leeds and Selby, September 22, 1834; Dublin and Kingdown on December 17, 1834; London and Greenwich, December 14, 1836, and Liverpool and Birmingham, July 4, 1837. Besides these there were many others projected, some of which came to nought. Take, for instance, one column of advertisements (p. 2, c. 5, Times, April 18, 1836)—South Western Railway, Padstow Breakwater, and Rock Delabole, Camelford, Callington, and Plymouth Railway, South London Union Railway, Bristol and Gloucestershire Railway, Margate and Ramsgate Railway, Ramsgate, Canterbury, Sandwich, Deal and Dover Railway, Gloucester and Hereford Railway, Harwich Railway, Westminster and Deptford Railway, and the Great Central Irish Railway.

In fact, the satire in John Bull of April 9, 1836, was not altogether undeserved—

"There is always a clown in a pantomime who knocks his head (p. 293) against a door, and tumbles on his nether end, and grins and distorts his limbs, and does, in short, a thousand feats to make the ridiculous performance more ridiculous still. In the pantomime of railroads, in which the tricks are innumerable, there is a clown, one so supereminently ridiculous, that if Grimaldi were still young and active enough to wear his blue tuft and wafer-dotted unmentionables, he would be jealous. The scheme to which we allude is one called by the sounding name of an International Railway—London, Paris, and Brussels, by Dover and Calais; and there are blanks left in the prospectus (and likely to be left) for the names of French patrons and Belgian patrons, and provincial directors, and all the rest of it; and the beginning of the suggestion is, that people are to go to Croydon in the first instance, as the shortest way to Belgium. Croydon seems an odd starting-point for Brussels; however, the prospectus infers that London has something to do with it; how much, we may venture to guess, by finding that the railroad communication with London is disavowed before the committee to whom the Bill is referred. As to Brussels and Paris, they will come, of course, when once the sea is crossed; but we must say that the Grimaldi railway, which renders it necessary to proceed by the old mode of travelling to Croydon in order to be steamed to Brussels, is very like paying a shilling to be rattled in an omnibus from London to a field in Bermondsey marsh, in order to climb up a flight of stairs to be rattled along the railroad at Deptford, at which place the traveller is suddenly ejected, his object being Greenwich (after which town the absurdity is delusively named), which it neither does, nor, thanks to the wisdom of Parliament, ever will reach; so that, what with the coloured hearse through the City, before you get to the starting-place in the bog, the climb upstairs, and the wearisome walk through the mud of the Lower Road to Greenwich, after you come down again, you would save exactly six pennies and three-quarters of an hour if you stepped into a fast-going coach at the Shoulder of Mutton or the Salopian at Charing Cross, and went slap bang to Greenwich itself, for the trifling charge of one shilling. This is absurd for a short affair and a matter of joke; but the railroad from Croydon to Brussels, for a serious concern and a long business, 'beats Bannagher,' as Mr. O'Connell says."

(p. 294) The Greenwich Railway referred to was opened by the Lord Mayor and civic authorities, on December 14, 1836, but only as far as Deptford; and the whole affair seems to have been a muddle. The Times of December 15 says—

"On the arrival of the several trains at Deptford the occupants of the carriages were allowed to get out; but here the arrangements fell far short of what we expected, for no preparation was made for their return. Many who had got out in the hopes of being present at the presentation to the Lord Mayor, and others who wished to regale themselves at some of the neighbouring inns at Deptford, could not, from the density of the crowds below the railway, get out; and, on retracing their steps to the railway, they found it a work of still greater difficulty and danger to return to the carriages from which they had alighted. Many who had taken the precaution to notice the name of the engine which drew the train, and the number of the carriage which brought them down, got back in the line between two trains, but were told by the conductors that they could not return by that way without great risk, for that the trains would return immediately. In consequence of this, many persons who came down by the trains went on to Deptford, and thence to town by the coaches."

(p. 295) CHAPTER XXVII.

Cases of wife selling — Duelling — Cases of — O'Connell and D'Israeli — Other duels.

There were two amusements somewhat fashionable in this reign, wife selling and duelling. The former is still in existence, the latter is extinct in England. The halter round the neck was used when the wife was sold at market, it being considered that, being thus accoutred, she was on a level with the cattle, and thus could be legally sold. Here is a ballad of the period thereon.

"Sale of a Wife.

"Attend to my ditty, you frolicsome folk,
I'll tell you a story—a comical joke;
'Tis a positive fact, what I'm going to unfold,
Concerning a woman who by auction was sold.

Chorus.

Then long may he flourish, and prosper through life,
The sailor that purchased the carpenter's wife.

"A carpenter lived not a mile off from here,
Being a little, or rather, too fond of his beer;
Being hard up for brass—it is true, on my life,
For ten shillings, by auction, he sold off his wife.

(p. 296) "The husband and wife they could never agree,
For he was too fond of going out on the spree;
They settled the matter, without more delay,
So, tied in a halter, he took her away.

"He sent round the bell-man, announcing the sale,
All in the hay-market, and that without fail;
The auctioneer came, with his hammer so smart,
And the carpenter's wife stood up in a cart.

"Now she was put up without grumble or frown,
The first bid was a tailor, that bid half a crown;
Says he, 'I will make her a lady so spruce,
And fatten her well upon cabbage and goose.'[23]

"'Five and sixpence three farthings,' a butcher then said,
'Six and ten,' said a barber, with his curly head;
Then up jump'd a cobbler, said he, 'In three cracks,
I'll give you nine shillings and two balls of wax.'

"'Just look at her beauty,' the auctioneer cries;
'She's mighty good-tempered, and sober likewise.'
'Damme,' said a sailor, 'she's three out of four,
Ten shillings I bid for her, not a screw more.'

(p. 297) "'Thank you, sir, thank you,' said the bold auctioneer,
'Going for ten. Is there nobody here
Will bid any more? Is not this a bad job?
Going! Going! I say—she's gone for ten bob.'

"The hammer was struck; that concluded the sale,
The sailor he paid down the brass on the nail;
He shook hands with Betsy, and gave her a smack,
And she jumped straddle-legs on to his back.

"The people all relished the joke, it appears,
And gave the young sailor three hearty good cheers;
He never cried stop, with his darling so sweet,
Until he was landed in Denison Street.

"They sent for fiddler and piper to play,
They danced and they sung, till the break of day;
Then Jack to his hammock with Betsy did go,
While the fiddler and piper played 'Rosin, the beau.'"

I have eleven cases of wife selling in this reign, copied from the Times, and I have no doubt I have overlooked some more. The first is—

The next is from the Times, February 25, 1832—

The following is from the Times of April 26, 1832 (from the Lancaster Herald), and is somewhat out of the common run of these affairs:—

In the Times of March 25, 1833, is the following:—

"A grinder, named Calton, sold his wife publicly in the market place, Stockport, last Monday week. She was purchased by a shopmate of her husband for a gallon of beer! The fair one, who had a halter round her neck, seemed quite agreeable.—Blackburn Gazette."

The Times of May 24th, 1834, quoting the Paisley Advertiser, says—

The lady got the best of it on another occasion, according to the Halifax Express, quoted in the Times of April 4, 1836—

"On Wednesday, May Day Green, Barnsley, was the scene of an extraordinary encounter. A woman beat her husband on the face till the blood flew about; he, in turn, sent the bellman round to proclaim the sale of his wife by auction; but, when he appeared with a halter to sell her, the Amazon rushed upon him again with her fists, and put him to total rout."

As a last example,[24] I will give another, which occurred in London, and which is thus reported in the Times of August 2, 1836—

Well! the lower classes of the time were simply animal brutes, with very little of Arnold's "sweetness and light" in their composition. Uneducated, ignorant, very seldom moving from one spot, badly housed, and nobody's care, it would have been a wonder had it been otherwise. The middle-class were steady-going, stay-at-home people, with not too much brains, and even of them making but little use—and they were only emerging from the barbarism which required the solution of any disagreement among men to be settled by physical force, either by fists or the duel. It is astonishing to see how these contests fell off in this reign, as public opinion declared itself against the practice of duelling.

People of old quarrelled and killed each other about such very trifles. Colonel Montgomery was shot in a duel about a dog, Captain Ramsay in one about a servant, Mr. Featherston in one about a recruit, Sterne's father in one about a goose, and some one else about an "acre of anchovies" instead of "artichokes." One officer was challenged for merely asking his opponent to have another glass, and another was compelled to fight about a pinch of snuff, while General Barry was challenged by a (p. 304) Captain Smith for declining a glass of wine with him at dinner in a steamboat, although the general had pleaded in excuse that wine invariably made him sick at sea.

But when William the Fourth was King, public opinion was set against the practice, and this was so felt, that quarrelsome persons betook themselves abroad to settle their differences. This was the case in a famous duel in 1834, between Captain Helsham and Lieutenant Crowther, at Boulogne, in which the latter was killed. Captain Helsham stood his trial for murder at the Old Bailey on October 8th, and was acquitted. In September of the same year Lord Bingham and Major Fitzgerald met at Brussels, but they did not fight. O'Connell's tongue got him into many scrapes. In 1815 he shot D'Esterre in a duel. In October, 1834, he was challenged by Sir Henry Hardinge for having applied most offensive and outrageous terms of personal insult to him; but the Irishman refused to fight, which was a wonder, as they were generally too eager for the fray. Witness a hostile meeting which took place near Ashbourne, about ten miles from Dublin, on December 23, 1834, between Messrs. Pope and L'Estrange, in which "the misunderstanding arose from expressions used in the theatre regarding a lady whom Mr. Pope had attended thither." One newspaper, the Times of October 2, 1832, records three duels.

The O'Connells were particularly fond of duelling. On December 13, 1832, William John O'Connell, (p. 305) nephew of the "Liberator," fought a Mr. Richard Kearney in the deer park at Greenwich. All the parties concerned had dined together at the Piazza Hotel, Regent Street, and afterwards adjourned to some place of amusement, where a row ensued, and the outcome was a meeting at Chalk Farm the same evening, but as the evening was too dark, it was adjourned till the next morning, and came off in Greenwich Park. O'Connell shot his man in the leg, and was afterwards apprehended by the police, and bound over to keep the peace for six months. On May 11, 1834, a duel was fought at Exeter, between Dr. Hennis, a young physician, and Sir John Jeffcott, recently appointed Chief Justice and Judge of the Vice Admiralty Court, Sierra Leone. Dr. Hennis did not fire, but was mortally wounded by the judge, who at once got on board a ship and set sail for Africa, thus eluding the police. The seconds were arrested, as accessories, but at their trial were acquitted.

In 1834, Sir Robert Peel challenged both Dr. Lushington and Joseph Hume, but the causes of quarrel were courteously explained, and no meetings took place. On May 5, 1835, a duel was fought, in a field on the Finchley Road, between Lord Alvanley and Morgan O'Connell, son of the "Liberator." The ground was measured at twelve paces, and it was agreed that Colonel Damer should give the word, which was to be "Ready!—Fire!" The parties were placed, and the pistols were delivered, Colonel Damer gave the words, and (p. 306) O'Connell fired; but not so Lord Alvanley, who said he thought the words were only preparatory, and claimed his right to fire. This was disallowed, and another round was fired without effect. Mr. O'Connell not being satisfied, yet another was arranged, after which, Lord Alvanley's second declared he would walk his man off the ground; this also was fired, without effect, and the duel terminated.

I have now to chronicle a passage of arms which, luckily, was bloodless, between two celebrities—Daniel O'Connell and Benjamin D'Israeli. At a meeting of the Franchise Association, held on May 2, 1835, at the Corn Exchange, Dublin, O'Connell stated that he had something to mention, personal to himself. Of all the abusive attacks that had ever been made on him, that recently volunteered by a Mr. D'Israeli, the unsuccessful Tory candidate at Taunton, was the most reckless, unprovoked, and unwarrantable. All that he knew of this Mr. D'Israeli was, that he had sent to him (Mr. O'Connell) in 1831, to write a letter in his favour to the electors of Wickham, for which he was a candidate in the Radical interest. On that occasion he was unsuccessful, as well as in a subsequent attempt as a Radical in Marylebone. Since then he had made some attempts to get into Parliament as a Tory, and certainly no one was so fit for the Tory faction as a man who had been twice rejected by the Radicals.

He had called him (Mr. O'Connell) a traitor and an incendiary; and, having thus grossly and (p. 307) maliciously assailed him, he should not be restrained by any notion of false delicacy in describing Mr. D'Israeli in the terms his conduct merited. Here the honourable and learned gentleman uttered a terrible philippic against Mr. D'Israeli, of which the following passage is a specimen. In describing Mr. D'Israeli as a descendant of a Jew (without meaning to cast any imputation either on the name, or the nation, which he respected) Mr. O'Connell said that he verily believed that, although the people of Israel were the chosen of God, yet there were miscreants amongst them also, and Mr. D'Israeli was one of those, for he possessed the quality of the impenitent thief who died upon the cross, and he (Mr. O'Connell) was convinced that that thief's name was D'Israeli. For aught he knew, this D'Israeli might be his heir-at-law, and now he forgave the descendant of the blasphemous thief who died impenitent upon the cross.

It is not possible to suppose that Mr. D'Israeli could pass this calmly by; and he did not, but wrote to O'Connell's son as follows:—

To this the younger O'Connell replied—

To this Mr. D'Israeli replied that he could not withdraw the letter, but assured his correspondent (p. 309) that he did not intend that it should convey any personal insult. On the same day he wrote old Dan a long and scathing letter, which wound up thus—

There was more letter writing, but it never came to a fight.

Willis says that he met Moore at Lady Blessington's, and, in the course of conversation, speaking of the "Liberator," he said—

(p. 310) In November, 1835, Mr. Roebuck, M.P. (commonly known as "Tear-'em"), and Mr. Black, the editor of the Morning Chronicle, fought a duel at Christchurch, Hants. At the first round Mr. Roebuck fired in the air, but at the second, both principals fired simultaneously, but no mischief was done. I wind up this account of duels of the reign, in which, however, I have not given a tithe part of those that occurred, with the last one in my notes, taken from the Times, June 15, 1837.

(p. 311) CHAPTER XXVIII.

Smuggling — Its prevalence — Cases — Great smuggling of silks, etc. — More Cases.

Another thing, which has almost died out, but then was in full force, was smuggling; but then almost every import paid some duty, and that on spirits, tea, and tobacco was excessively heavy, and, consequently, the temptation was very great. Kent and the south-east coast generally, were the favourite resorts for smugglers, owing to their proximity to France, and smuggling was a regularly organized business in which much capital was embarked. Every one on the coast knew something about contraband trade, and, if they did not openly aid in it, they certainly did nothing to aid in capturing smugglers. This rendered the duties of the Excise more laborious than they otherwise might be; and, as the smugglers were generally in force, owing to the magnitude of their ventures, the dangers involved in their capture increased proportionately. Being caught, meant fine or imprisonment to the smugglers, besides loss of goods; so that if the parties ever came in collision (p. 312) it was no child's play. We may judge of the magnitude of the contraband trade by the frequency of newspaper reports of it, and it must be remembered that the instances chronicled would represent a very small percentage of runs which were successful and unheard of. To show their frequency, I will quote three notices in the Times of January 10, January 22, and February 22, 1831. The first is taken from the Hastings Iris, and begins—

"We regret to have to state that a desperate affray took place on Wednesday morning, between three and four o'clock, on the beach in front of Gover's Cottage, about two miles to the eastward of Hastings, when two men were killed on the part of the smugglers, and one of the blockade so severely beaten that his life is despaired of, having his arm broken in two places and five or six cuts in his head. Another man stationed near to him was very much knocked about, but was able to give evidence at the inquest.... William Rixon, ex-seaman, belonging to the Hyperion, was on duty on the beach about three o'clock in the morning of Wednesday last, near Gover's Cottage. A sloop showed a light about two miles from the shore, and about ten minutes after a boat left her, which was making for the shore. As soon as she came near he could see three men pulling, and one man in the stern steering. He went up under the cliff, and saw thirty or forty men with sticks nine or ten feet long; they looked like soldiers with muskets. So soon as he hailed them, another party, which he had not seen before, ran to attack the two men who were on duty near him. The first party which he had seen threatened his life, and said if he would not fire they would not hurt him; but if he fired they would cut his throat. He immediately fired his musket for assistance; did not recollect which way he fired; he might have fired in the direction in which the men stood. They sprang on him; about a dozen handled him, struck him on the side of the head with sticks, which forced him to the ground and stunned him, after which he was senseless for (p. 313) some time; and, as he was recovering, they struck him again. Some of his comrades came to his assistance. After the men left him, he found he had been dragged a considerable way up the cliff. They had torn his clothes in trying to disarm him. He then went down to the boat and stood by her until his officer came down and seized her. The smugglers took his pistols and musket from him. The musket had since been found, the pistols had not; they were all loaded with ball cartridge. The duty imposed upon him, in case of the attempt to land contraband goods, was to resist to the utmost of his power. He fired as a signal for assistance. The men were on the cliff rather above him. He fired once before he was knocked down; but afterwards discharged four or five pieces as signals for assistance. The men went down to the boat to take the goods out. He could hear them run up and down the beach as the people laid on him. There were ninety-three tubs in the boat."

The verdict was justifiable homicide.

The next is quoted from the Kent Herald—

"On Wednesday sen'night, about nine o'clock, a desperate attack was made by a party of smugglers on the person of Lieutenant Ross, the officer in command of the Dover Station Blockade Service. The object of the smugglers was to prevent any interference in the landing of a large quantity of contraband goods, which was taking place not far off, and successfully accomplished, with the loss of only one bale of silk left in the boat, which was afterwards captured. Lieutenant Ross was savagely beaten by five or six of the smugglers, under the very windows of the magistrates, on the Marine Parade, some of whose servants, we understand, looked on the affray without offering the least assistance. At length, the servant of Sir Hussey Vivian coming up, the fellows made off, and Lieutenant Ross discharged his pistol after them, the ball from which passed through the window of a house opposite, but fortunately without injury to any of the inmates. It is quite time that an ample reduction of duty on foreign articles should put an end to the 'giant evil' of smuggling—nothing else can stop it; and, until it is done, the demoralization and irregular habits of the lower class will necessarily increase."

(p. 314) The third case is taken from the Western Times, and has rather a comic side to it—

But this was peddling work compared with that reported in the Times of August 15, 1831—

We are afterwards told in the Times of December 16, 1831, that the culprits were Messrs. Leaf, Cole and Co., in Old Change, and

There seems to be some grounds in believing this to be the fact, for Messrs. Leaf and Co. complained loudly that they were not allowed to prove that they had actually paid duty on the three sets of packages which had been removed to the shops of their friends after the seizure of August 5th; but seeing the danger of contending farther with a public board, they compounded for the whole transaction for a fine of £20,000.

Here is another case from the Times of January 19, 1832, coming originally from the Kentish Herald—

At Hastings, on February 21, 1832, a party of smugglers attempted to run a cargo near St. Leonards. The Excise heard of it, and a desperate affray was the consequence; the Revenue men secured the boat and one hundred and sixty tubs of spirits, but at the expense of their lives; one was killed and two mortally wounded.

(p. 319) A good idea of the extensive smuggling which was carried on at this time may be gained from the following paragraphs, which appear in one column of the Times of February 13, 1832.

From the Brighton Herald, June 16, 1832—

"A large and most valuable seizure was made at the port of Shoreham, by the officers of the coastguard, on the morning of (p. 320) the 13th inst. This great prize to the captors consisted of a ketch-rigged vessel of about sixty tons burden, called the New Speedwell, of Portsmouth, the boat belonging to her, a large barge or lighter, which was brought alongside the vessel, and into which a portion of the goods were unshipped, three men, being the master and crew; together with 238 bales of tobacco stalks for the purpose of being manufactured into snuff, weighing about 1300 lbs.; 27 bales of leaf tobacco weighing about 1100 lbs.; 35 bales of tobacco stalk flour weighing about 1000 lbs., and 1 box containing 23 lbs. of cigars, the value of which, it is said, is estimated at upwards of £3000."

The Chelmsford Chronicle, quoted in the Times of May 4, 1833, is responsible for the following:—

(p. 321) CHAPTER XXIX.

Legitimate trade — The "truck" system — Its downfall — State of trade — Newspaper stamps — Steel pens — Literature — List of authors — Painters — Sculptors.

But enough of illicit trade. What was legitimate trade doing? The marvellous expansion which afterwards came, thanks to steam as applied to machinery, railways, and shipping, had only just commenced; but, at all events, a beginning had been made, and, thanks to her iron and coal, England was able for many a long year to head the race for commerce, hold her own with foreign competition, and even to defy it. The Trades' Unions, which have not altogether been an unmixed blessing, were still in their infancy, and in many trades the "truck" system of paying the workers in kind rather than coin was the rule. It was the payment of labour in goods or provisions instead of money; and the mode in which it was carried on by the manufacturers was to set up a large shop or store (commonly called a "Tommy shop"), containing all sorts of necessaries for their workmen, so that, instead of paying them money for their wages, tickets were given to these shops; or, in other instances, periodical visits to them were (p. 322) allowed to the mechanic or his wife, and they chose those things they were most in need of. Under these circumstances money was very seldom, or, rather, never paid; for, though parties to evade the law gave the money to their workmen, yet, before they left the premises, it was all received back again.

These "Tommy shops" were generally kept by some relation or servant of the master, put in for that purpose; or, when the tradesman did not resort to such measures on his own account, he made an arrangement with the retailer, who allowed him a discount. And the more needy the manufacturer, the greater his advantage under this system; for he was enabled to stock his shop for three months, and then pay for that stock with a bill at another three months; so that, instead of paying his workmen ready money, he was obtaining six months' credit. Again, without saying that there was a regular contract amongst the masters, it was always an understood thing that a man discharged for objecting to this system should not be taken on by any other employer. And, indeed, this naturally followed; for, when once it was known that a man had lost his employment by objecting to this mode of payment, it was not likely that another master, who paid in exactly the same way, would give him employment.

And the poor fellows had to pay through the nose for all they had. The milder "truck-masters" were content to charge their men from 15 to 20 per cent. more than the market price, while those (p. 323) unburdened with a conscience, exacted 100 per cent. profit; nor would they allow their men to keep pigs. This state of things was well known, and leave was applied for and given in December, 1830, to bring a Bill into Parliament to do away with the truck system, and make it penal. On October 15, 1831, this received the Royal sanction, and the Act was afterwards known as 1 and 2 Gul. IV. c. 36, "An Act to repeal several Acts and parts of Acts prohibiting the Payment of Wages in Goods, or otherwise than in the current Coin of the Realm." And another (same, c. 37), in which it was settled that all wages must be paid to the workman in coin, and payment in goods was declared illegal; that artificers might recover, by law, wages, if not paid in current coin, and that no employer should have any action against his artificer for goods supplied to him on account of wages; whilst, if the artificer, or his wife or children, became chargeable to the parish, the overseers may recover any wages earned within the three preceding months, and not paid in cash. That contracts between master and man as to the payment of the whole or part of wages in goods should be illegal, and for the first offence the employer should be fined not less than £5, nor more than £10; for the second, not less than £10, nor more than £20; and for the third he was to be fined, at the discretion of the Court, a sum not exceeding £100.

On May 26, 1826, the Royal sanction was given to an Act which virtually destroyed the monopoly of (p. 324) the Bank of England, and laid the foundation of the present Joint Stock Banks, or rather what they were before they took advantage of limited liability. It is 7 Geo. IV. c. 46, and is entitled, "An Act for the better regulating co-partnerships of certain bankers in England." But it does not seem to have been acted on in London, at all events till 1833, when we have advertisements soliciting subscriptions to the London and Westminster Bank, the Imperial Bank of London, and the National Provincial Bank of England. The London and Westminster Bank was established March, 1834; the National Provincial Bank of England in 1833; the National Bank in 1835; the London Joint Stock Bank in 1836; as also the Commercial Bank of London and the London and County Bank; whilst in 1837 was started the Union Bank of Australia.

When William IV. died, the trade of the country was in a very depressed state, as we learn by the Annual Register, June 13, 1837, which quotes from the following papers:—

When William IV. came to the throne the stamp duty on newspapers was 4d., less 20 per cent. discount, and the price of the Times was 7d. Each advertisement had to pay a duty of 3s. 6d. The consequence of the newspaper stamp being so high was that leaflets were perpetually being started which bore no stamp, as it was contended that they contained no news. Still the vendors were always being haled before the magistrates; but the publication of these vexatious leaflets was settled in May, 1831, in the case of Rex v. William Carpenter, which came off in the Court (p. 326) of Exchequer, before the Lord Chief Baron. The Crown obtained the verdict, and Mr. Carpenter was let off very cheaply, by being fined only £120. The duty on newspapers brought in a large revenue. In 1830, 30,158,741 stamps were issued, and in 1835, 32,874,652; but in 1836 the duty was reduced to 1d. per newspaper, and 1/2d. for each supplement; and the Times on September 15, 1836, reduced its price to 4d. Of the number of newspapers I have already written.

Many lived by the pen, whether quill or steel. In 1830, although not a novelty, steel pens were dear, as we see by an advertisement in the Times of October 18th—

"Pen-mending totally superseded.—Patent Perryian Pens, warranted not to require mending, and to write better than any other pen whatever, as cheap as the common pen. Price per packet (containing nine pens of the best quality), 3s. 6d."

In 1837 they had got somewhat cheaper, vide Times, March 23rd—

"Perryian Pens, protected by five patents.—Double patent pen, with holder, 2s. per card; Indiarubber spring pen, 2s. 6d. ditto; office pen, 1s. ditto. Any of the above, with patent elastic holder, at 3d. extra per card. Under-spring pen, with holder, 2s. per card; side-spring pen, 2s. ditto; flat-spring pen, 2s. ditto; three-pointed pen, 2s. 3d. ditto. Each card contains nine pens."

This reign saw the commencement of cheap, good literature, which was to overrun the country and utterly abolish the chap book, which till then had been the literary mainstay of the country folk. (p. 327) The year in which this transformation began was 1832, for then were published for the first time The Penny Magazine, and Chambers' Edinburgh Journal; whilst, during the reign, were published all kinds of books, from the watered-silk-bound annuals, such as the Gem, the Offering, the Bijou, the Remembrancer, the Coronal, the Iris, or the Bouquet, to abstruse scientific books—for it was, to a certain extent, a book-reading age, and people bought and kept their favourite authors.

Of authors, what a lot there was! The following does not pretend to be exhaustive, but it will serve to give an idea of those who lived or wrote during the time when William IV. was King. Let us take them alphabetically. John Adolphus, who wrote the History of the Reign of George III., etc. W. H. Ainsworth, the novelist, who brought out Rookwood in 1834. Sir Archibald Alison, to whom we are indebted for his History of England. T. K. Arnold, headmaster of Rugby. John Banim, whom we remember by the Tales by the O'Hara Family. Rev. R. H. Barham, whose Ingoldsby Legends came out with the starting of Bentley's Miscellany in 1837. The lyric poet, Thomas H. Bayly, whose I'd be a Butterfly, She wore a wreath of Roses, and Oh no, we never mention her, are classics in ballad song. Laman Blanchard, who was a contributor to the lighter periodicals of his day. George Borrow, who during the reign was an agent of the British and Foreign Bible Society—to which we owe his Bible in Spain. (p. 328) The Rev. Jos. Bosworth, to whom we are indebted for his Anglo-Saxon Grammar and Dictionary, etc. The Very Rev. W. Buckland, Dean of Westminster, famous for his writings on Geology and Palæontology. Bulwer-Lytton, who published Paul Clifford in 1830, Eugene Aram and Godolphin in 1833, The Pilgrims of the Rhine and The Last Days of Pompeii in 1834, and Rienzi in 1835. Thos. Campbell, poet, author of Pleasures of Hope, Gertrude of Wyoming, Lord Ullin's Daughter, etc. Thos. Carlyle, who came to London in 1834, and then wrote and re-wrote his French Revolution, which was published in 1837. Captain F. Chamier, R.N., whose sea tales are only surpassed by Marryat. T. C. Croker, to whom we are indebted for The Fairy Tales and Legends of the South of Ireland. Dr. Croly, who will be chiefly remembered by his Salathiel. Allan Cunningham, whose Songs of Scotland will always live. His son Peter, who wrote Songs of England and Scotland, and, among many other books, a Handbook of London, which is most valuable. De Quincey, whose Confessions of an Opium Eater is an English classic. Thos. Dibdin—son of Charles, of sea-song fame—who was a most voluminous playwright. Charles Dickens, who published The Pickwick Papers in 1836. Isaac D'Israeli, who had almost written his last book. His son Benjamin, who was then beginning to make a political name. Dr. Doran, who in this reign published his History and Antiquities of the Town and Borough of Reading. Pierce Egan, (p. 329) of Boxiana and Life in London notoriety. Grote, the historian, was alive, but devoted himself more to his parliamentary duties than to writing history. Then, too, flourished S. C. Hall and his wife, the latter of whom will doubtless live longest in remembrance. William Hone, whatever may be thought of his politics, etc., has given us a mine of folk and archæological lore. If genial Thomas Hood had never written anything but the Bridge of Sighs and the Song of the Shirt, he would have made his name; but, happily, he will be the source of wholesome laughter to future generations. Theodore Hook, too, novelist and dramatist, will live in his Jack Brag. William and Mary Howitt are names not likely to be lost. Douglas Jerrold, dramatist, novelist, and humourist, seems almost of to-day. The Rev. John Keble will live for ever in his Christian Year. Charles Knight, with his Penny Magazine and Penny Cyclopædia, did much to popularize cheap and wholesome literature. James Sheridan Knowles, dramatist, produced his play of The Hunchback in 1832, and The Love Chase in 1837, both classics in the drama. Walter Savage Landor wrote several books during this reign. Of Mark Lemon, who was "indispensable to Punch" nothing need be said—every one remembers his name. The same may be said of Charles James Lever, the novelist, whose Harry Lorrequer, Jack Hinton, etc., are so well known. Students will reverence the name of John Lingard, the Roman (p. 330) Catholic historian; and botanists are familiar with the writings of John Claudius Loudon and his wife. The Handy Andy of Samuel Lover, novelist, poet, musician, and artist, though probably written in this reign, was not published until 1838. Thomas Babington Macaulay, so well known as an historian, was in India from 1834 to 1838. To mention the name of Captain F. Marryat is to kindle a thrill in every English boy's breast. Samuel Maunder, whose Treasuries were text books in their day, and still are very useful. John Stuart Mill, of Political Economy memory, was during this reign writing for magazines, when he was not editing the Westminster Review. Thomas Moore, poet and musician, brought out in 1834 a complete edition of his Irish Melodies, which were commenced in 1807. Sir Francis Palgrave produced in 1831 his History of England, Anglo-Saxon Period, and was knighted the following year. J. R. Planché published in 1834 The History of British Costume for The Library of Entertaining Knowledge. A. W. N. Pugin, the revivalist of mediæval architecture, wrote thereon, in 1836, Contrasts; a parallel between the noble edifices of the 14th and 15th Centuries and the Present Day. Table Talk Rogers was getting an old man; and Robert Southey was Poet Laureate with, in 1834, a pension of £300 per annum. The "bitter Bengalee," W. M. Thackeray, came of age in 1832, and his first regular literary employment was for Fraser's Magazine, wherein The History of Samuel Titmarsh, (p. 331) and The Great Hoggarty Diamond appeared during 1837-38. Nor, in this list, must be forgotten painstaking John Timbs, whose works are indispensable for reference. John Wilson, perhaps better known as Christopher North, contributed his celebrated Noctes Ambrosinæ to Blackwood's Magazine up to 1835; in which year Wordsworth published his Yarrow revisited.

Nor must we omit mention of the fair sex in their literary work. Mrs. Sarah Austin, who produced two of her famous translations in this reign—viz. A Tour in England, Ireland, and France by a German Prince (1832), and Raumer's England in 1835, in 1836; in which year Joanna Baillie published three volumes of dramas. In 1836, also, Mrs. Bray brought out her Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy. The Brontës were too young to write, but were young women. E. M. Barrett Browning produced her first acknowledged work, a translation of Prometheus Bound, and some of her early poems in 1835. Maria Edgeworth was getting too old to write; and Mrs. Gaskell had not commenced. Mrs. Jameson published her first book in 1831—Memoirs of Female Sovereigns, and, in 1837, Sketches of Germany. Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) wrote her best prose work, Ethel Churchill, in 1836. Miss Mitford published a fifth series of Our Village in 1832. Hannah More died in 1833. Lady Morgan, The Wild Irish Girl, was writing, and making money by it. The Hon. Mrs. Norton, who (p. 332) let all the world know her grievances, brought out her poem of the Undying One in 1831, and her novel of Stuart of Dunleath in 1835. Miss Jane Porter produced, in 1831, what was probably her best work, Sir Edward Seaward's Diary, which was frequently mistaken, at the time, for genuine history. And last, though not least, Miss Agnes Strickland published the Pilgrims of Walsingham in 1835.

I had almost forgotten; which would have been inexcusable, that Sir Walter Scott died in September, 1832.

The New British School of Art was just commencing. The National Collection of pictures was commenced in 1824, and in 1832 Parliament voted £15,000 to build a gallery for their reception. The Royal Academy of Arts, instituted in 1768, held their annual exhibition of pictures, up to 1836, at Somerset House, but in 1837 they removed to the new National Gallery. There were, besides, exhibitions of paintings held by the Society of British Artists, the Society of Painters in Water Colours, and the New Society of ditto. In May, 1834, there was an Exhibition of the works of the Old Masters; and in 1832 Haydon held an exhibition of his own pictures.

The following is an attempt at a list of the principal British artists of the reign.

Sir Wm. Allan, P.R.S.A. and R.A.; Sir Wm. Beechey, R.A.; Wm. Boxall; Sir A. W. Callcott, R.A.; G. Cattermole; A. E. Chalon, R.A., and (p. 333) J. J. Chalon, A.; Geo. Chambers; J. Constable, R.A.; E. W. Cooks, R.A.; A. Cooper, R.A.; T. S. Cooper; D. Cox; T. Creswick; F. Danby; P. De Wint; W. Dyce; Sir C. Eastlake, R.A.; A. L. Egg, R.A.; A. Elmore; Wm. Etty, R.A.; A. V. C. Fielding; Sir F. Grant, R.A.; L. Haaghe; J. D. Harding; Sol. A. Hart, R.A.; B. R. Haydon; Sir Geo. Hayter; J. R. Herbert; J. F. Herring; Wm. Hilton, R.A.; Wm. Hunt; G. Lance; Chas. and Edwin Landseer; C. R. Leslie, R.A.; J. F. Lewis, R.A.; J. Linnell; D. Maclise, R.A.; J. Martin; W. Mulready, R.A.; Jos. Nash; Alex. Nasmyth; T. Phillips, R.A.; H. W. Pickersgill, R.A.; P. F. Poole; W. H. and J. B. Pyne; R. R. Reinagle, R.A.; Sir M. A. Shee, P.R.A.; W. C. Stanfield; T. Stodhard, R.A.; F. Stone; G. Stubbs; J. M. W. Turner, R.A.; J. Varley; J. Ward, R.A.; Rd. Westall, R.A.; Wm. Westall, A.; and Sir D. Wilkie, R.A.

Among illustrators of books were H. K. Browne (Phiz), George Cruikshank, John Doyle (H.B.), John Leech, Kenny Meadows, and John Tenniel.

Engravers numbered amongst them E. F. and W. Finden, R. Graves, A.R.A., William Holl, and Thomas Landseer.

There was a glorious list of sculptors: W. Behnes, Sir F. Chantrey, R.A., J. H. Foley, R.A., John Gibson, R.A., John Hogan, T. Thornicroft, Henry Weekes, R.A., Sir R. Westmacott, and his son Richard, and M. C. Wyatt, while akin to sculpture comes William Wyon, R.A., medallist.

(p. 334) CHAPTER XXX.

Musicians — Paganini — His avarice — Ole Bull — Curious musical instruments — Jim Crow — The opera and its singers — The ballet — Actors, etc. — Madame Vestris's leg.

In music we had, as composers, Balfe, who is more honoured abroad than at home, John Barnett, Julius Benedict, W. Sterndale Bennett, Sir Henry Bishop, Michael Costa, J. B. Cramer, Moscheles, Sir George Smart, and Vincent Wallace. As English singers, Braham and Phillips, Madame Carodori Allan, Madame Anna Bishop, Miss Stephens, Clara Novello, Adelaide Kemble, and Miss Paton.

In 1831 Paganini came to England, and gave his first concert on June 3rd at the King's Theatre. He began badly—he raised the prices, and the people would not stand it, and he only gave way at the last moment, as we see by the following letter in the Times of June 2nd, addressed to the editor.

As it was, the prices were high enough. The boxes the same as on opera night, orchestra and stalls, £1 1s.; pit, 10s. 6d.; gallery, 5s.

His avarice was notorious, as noted in the following verses, which appeared in The Original of July 28, 1832.

In a notice of his first concert, the Times says—

The King gave him a diamond ring, and money rolled in to him. His prices were high, and he always insisted upon being paid before he would perform. Here is an example (Times, December 8, 1831)—

"Brighton. December 6th.—Some sensation has been excited at Brighton by a circumstance relative to Paganini. Mr. Gutteridge, it appears, had engaged the Signor to play at the theatre for one night, at the moderate sum of 200 guineas. As the theatre, however, when crammed almost to suffocation, would only produce about £200, and, after paying Paganini and other expenses, he would have had to disburse nearly £300, Mr. Gutteridge was, of course, compelled to raise the prices. It was, (p. 337) therefore, announced that the prices of the boxes and pit would be doubled, and the admission to the gallery increased to 4s. The announcement of the intended increase of prices caused considerable dissatisfaction in Brighton, and placards were, yesterday, posted on the Steine, calling upon the public to resist the extortion, and threatening, if the prices were raised, to make of Brighton another Bristol. Mr. Gutteridge, having obtained one of the placards, went to the magistrates to ask for protection against the threatened outrage, and a promise was, of course, made to him of the assistance of the police."

In November, 1833, a Mr. Freeman sued Paganini for thirty guineas, alleged to be due to him for his services as interpreter and agent, and in the course of the trial it came out that Paganini had amassed £30,000 in England alone.

His rival, the celebrated Norwegian violinist, Ole Bull, came over here in 1836, and gave his first concert at the King's Theatre on May 21st of that year, and the criticism upon his performance was that "the applause he received was unbounded, as little forced, and as sincere as any we have ever heard." He stayed in England a year.

It is said that "there is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous," and, musically, that seems to be from Paganini and Ole Bull to Eulenstein, the performer on the Jew's harp, who was here in the autumn of 1833. In a biographical account of him we find that he was of humble origin, and born in Wurtemberg.

"He went to Stutgard, and received a command to appear before the queen. Pursuing his travels, he visited Paris, with five pounds in his pocket, and five hundred in his imagination. Here (p. 338) he found no means of making himself known, and sunk gradually into penury; when Mr. Stockhausen took him by the hand, and procured him introductions to the highest circles. From France he came to England, but, upon his arrival, unfortunately, he received a 'patronizing invitation' to play at a rout at the Marchioness of Salisbury's. A French horn would have been more appropriate there than the delicate Jew's harp. The gay party saw, indeed, a man in a corner doing something, and making wry faces over it, they heard no sound, and wondered what it was. Eulenstein, shocked and mortified, determined to leave England, and was about to set off for the Continent, when the Duke of Gordon kindly patronized him, procured a command from the late King to play in his presence, and, in short, may be considered to be the architect of his promising fortune."

The accordion was a new and fashionable instrument, and there was in 1836 a musical instrument called an "Æolophone," which I fancy must have been a kind of Æolian harp; and in 1837 there was an awful thing called the "Eidophusion," whilst, all during the reign, a composite instrument, called the "Apollonicon," was performed on daily at 101, St. Martin's Lane.

Whilst on the subject of music in England, I must not omit to mention the commencement of a peculiar school, which since has attained large dimensions—I mean the "nigger" songs, of which the first was sung in 1836 by an actor named T. D. Rice, who introduced it at the Adelphi, in a play called "A Flight to America." Although very silly stuff, it became the rage, and I reproduce it because it was the first of its kind. It will be noted that the nigger costume was not of that exaggerated and complex character into which it has now developed.

(p. 339)

Jim Crow.

For some reason or other this buffoonery became a perfect rage; there were Jim Crow hats, Jim Crow coats, neckerchiefs, etc.; nay, it even was made use of in political satire.

(p. 341) There were frequently two opera companies singing at the same time; one German, of not much account, the other Italian, which included names which are historical in the musical world. Among the men were Garcia, Lablache, Rubini, and Tamburini, and among the ladies were Albertazzi, Garcia, Grisi, Malibran (who died in 1836), and Pasta. And they were well paid, as we see from an extract from the Town, quoted in the Times of May 20, 1833—

The premières danseuses were Taglioni, the two Elslers, Carlotta Grisi, and Duvernay, who married a country banker, Mr. Lyne Stephens, and who died enormously rich, either late in 1894 or early in 1895, when her collection pictures, etc., were sold at Christie's, and fetched fabulous prices. A great male dancer was Perrot.

It is an easy transition from opera to the drama, and among actors we find the names of Paul Bedford, J. B. Buckstone, T. P. Cooke, A. Ducrow, W. Farren, J. P. Harley, Chas. J. Kean, R. Keeley, C. Kemble, J. Liston, W. C. Macready, John Parry, J. Phelps, J. Reeve, J. Vandenhoff, B. Webster, F. H. Yates, and C. M. Young. Among actresses I may mention (p. 342) Madame Celeste, Mrs. Glover, Mrs. Honey, Fanny Kemble, Mrs. Nisbet, Miss Ellen Tree (afterwards Mrs. Chas. Kean), Miss Vandenhoff, and Madame Vestris.

During this reign died several veterans of the stage. In 1831 died Mrs. Siddons and Elliston; in 1832, Munden; in 1833, Edmund Kean; in 1836, Richardson, the showman; and in 1837, the famous clown, Joey Grimaldi.

There were besides two names not to be forgotten, not belonging to professors of the legitimate drama, but yet worthy in their way to be chronicled—namely, Charles Matthews, who died in 1835, famous for his "At Home," and his "Monopolylogue," and "Love, the Polyphonist."

There was a curious police case in 1831, re a curious subject—no less than Madame Vestris's leg; and the following is a portion of the case as reported in the Times of January 21st:—

On February 22nd the young man was tried at the Old Bailey and acquitted.

(p. 344) CHAPTER XXXI.

Architects and civil engineers — Men of science — Scientific societies — Medical men — Lawyers — "Tracts for the Times" — Curates' pay — Flogging in the army and navy — Crime — Transportation versus hulks — Stories of convicts.

This was a reign in which both architecture and civil engineering were nascent, and yet there were some famous men in both professions. Among the former were Sir Chas. Barry, R.A., J. P. Deering, R.A., P. Hardwick, R.A., Sir Robert Smirke and Sydney Smirke, both R.A.'s, Sir John Soane, and Sir William Tite. Whilst among civil engineers we may note G. P. Bidder, once the famous calculating boy, both the Brunels, Sir W. Fairbairn, Sir John Rennie, and both the Stephensons; and, as a mechanical engineer, Joseph Whitworth was preparing the mathematical exactness of the tools which enabled England to hold her own, and more, against the whole world in the manufacture of machinery.

Of the men of science there is a fine list. Sir David Brewster, C. R. Darwin, M. Faraday, Sir John F. W. Herschel, and his wonderful aunt Caroline, Sir W. J. Hooker, to whom botany owes so much, as does geology to Sir Charles Lyell, and Sir J. Murchison, (p. 345) Mrs. Somerville, whose scientific attainments were marvellous, and W. H. Fox Talbot, by whom photography was much developed, though still in its infancy. In chemistry, we have Ure, Brande and Herapath.

The scientific societies inaugurated in this reign are as follows: in 1831, Royal Dublin Society, Harveian Society, British Association; in 1832, British Medical Association; 1833, Entomological Society; 1834, Statistical Society; 1837, Ornithological Society. In mechanical science both the gas engine and Ericson's caloric engine were known, the air-gun and limelight were novelties, and the hydro-oxygen microscope was a source of wonder to thousands.

A fine list, too, is to be found of medical men. Richard Bright, Sir B. Brodie, Sir R. Christison, Sir C. M. Clarke, Sir William Fergusson, Sir W. Laurence and Sir Charles Locock. Homeopathy was only just beginning to be talked about at the end of the reign.

There were some fine lawyers, Lord Abinger, Baron Alderson, Lord Brougham, Isaac Butt, Thomas Chitty, Sir A. J. E. Cockburn, Sir J. T. Coleridge, Lord Denman, Sir Fitzroy Kelly, Lord Lyndhurst, and Sir Frederick Thesiger, afterwards Lord Chelmsford.

Among the higher dignitaries of the Church of England in this reign were very few men of note,—all good men, doubtless; but, since the Wesleyan (p. 346) revival, the Church had been getting a wee bit sleepy, and wanted waking up. And it was woke up with a vengeance, when a conference of some Anglican clergymen and others was held at Hadleigh, July 25-29, 1833, and Oriel College may be said to be its birthplace, for at that College were Keble, Pusey, Newman, and Froude. From the tracts which were issued, exemplifying the views of these writers, the movement obtained the name of Tractarian. The first tract proper appeared September 9, 1833, and by November, 1835, seventy had appeared; and at first they were almost universally welcomed, for they carefully respected the Prayer-book, and defended the rights of the clergy. But the Evangelical party became alarmed at this growing popular movement, and, in the early part of Queen Victoria's reign, the strife waxed fast and furious, which only infused wakefulness and life into a somewhat dormant church, and has ended, as far as our time go, in the establishment of a so-called "High Church" form of worship, which would have utterly astonished the originators of the movement. True, some few good men left the Church of England, and joined that of Rome, but their secession only served as warnings to others, and the Church of England is now firmer established than ever it was.

A Clergy Act had been passed, enjoining that a curate's pay should in no case be less than £80 per annum; and that such salary should not be less than £100 per annum in any parish or place where the (p. 347) population, according to the last parliamentary returns, should amount to three hundred persons; where the population should amount to five hundred, the salary was not to be less than £120, and £150 if the population amounts to a thousand. This Act was much needed, as the following figures show. Six curates received under £20; 59 under £30; 173 under £40; 441 under £50; 892 under £60; 300 under £70; 415 under £80; 458 under £90; 156 under £100; 500 under £110; 69 under £120; 207 under £130; 52 under £140; 32 under £150; 162 under £160; 26 under £170; 15 under £180; 5 under £190; 3 under £200; 17 under £210; 2 under £220; 2 under £240; 3 under £250; 4 under £260; 1 under £290; 2 under £310; 1 under £320, and 1 under £340. There were forty-three who received the full income of the benefices they served. Two received one half of the income, and one was paid two guineas each Sunday.

The army and navy had very few opportunities of distinguishing themselves; they had a well-earned rest after 1815, but they were slow in doing away with the old bad practices in force in both services. For instance, flogging is still in force for some offences in the navy, by the regulations issued on December 18, 1871. Abolition of flogging in the army, at all events in time of peace, was advocated in Parliament in 1836, but came to nought; this was, however, done in April, 1868, and altogether abolished in April, 1881.

(p. 348) What flogging in the army was like, we may see by the following police report, taken from the Times of May 18, 1833:—

In Arnold's Magazine for September, 1833, a writer, speaking of flogging in the navy, says—

Luckily there was no need for impressment to fill the navy, but it was legal, as it still is.

But most things were rougher and more brutal (p. 351) than nowadays, and nowhere was it better exemplified than in criminal punishment. Hanging was the punishment for many offences, but there was such a growing disinclination on the part of jurors to convict, and so many recommendations to mercy on the part of judges, that it was about time to modify our criminal legislature. Something must be done with the criminals, and they must be punished somehow. It was very certain that hanging was no deterrent to crime, which was so rampant that the gaols in England would have been utterly unable to hold the convicts. There was the alternative of sending them to colonize and be servants in that vast Australian continent, of which we then knew so little; or there was the employment of old men-of-war, called "hulks," as floating prisons, in which the prisoners were confined at night, working in the daytime on shore, in the dockyards, or elsewhere. These "hulks" were verily floating hells, but they had the merit over transportation, of economy, as we may see in a short leader in the Times of July 19, 1830:—

At that time Australia, Van Dieman's Land, and the Cape of Good Hope, were so sparsely populated by Europeans, that the introduction of criminal scum could not very well prejudice anything but the criminal colonies themselves. Once there, they were irrevocably fixed until their sentence was expired, and returning before that time was punishable by death, until August, 1834, when an Act of Parliament was passed (5 Gul. IV. c. 67) which reduced the penalty to transportation for life.

But if the vicious and criminal were transported, so occasionally were the good and innocent, and one case is specially pregnant; it occurs in a letter in the Times of May 1, 1833—

"Sophia Hallen, a gentlewoman by birth, after having been detained in prison for several years on an execution obtained in an action at law by an attorney for the amount of his bill of costs for £100, was put upon her trial at the Clerkenwell Sessions on Thursday last, and sentenced to seven years transportation beyond the seas, for refusing, in effect, to give up her little property to discharge the debt of this person, who is her only real creditor; who, it is alleged by her, has acted improperly in not following the instructions of his client, in the first instance; in subsequently holding back material documents, and in rendering a false account in not giving credit for money he had received, and which have had the effect in making the defendant, evidently a strong-minded (p. 353) woman, obstinately refuse to do any act whereby the prosecutor may obtain payment of his demand."

If we want to know how the system of transportation worked, a glance through the pages of "The Felonry of New South Wales," by Jas. Mudie, Lond., 1837, gives us details hardly to be found elsewhere. Talking about assigning servants, how husbands were assigned to wives, etc., and then became practically free, he says—

His description of the "fine lady convicts" is particularly amusing—

The colonies at last rebelled against having the criminals of England imported, certainly not to their benefit, and were successful, the Cape in 1849, and Australia generally in 1864; but a shipment of convicts was made to West Australia as late as 1867.

Taken altogether, crime, in this reign, was much the same as in any other, excepting the offences of Burkeing and body-snatching, for the sake of providing the anatomical schools with subjects—details of which are too loathsome to read—and the crimes themselves have now no existence.