## The Project Gutenberg eBook of When William IV. Was King

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Title: When William IV. Was King

Author: John Ashton

Release date: October 3, 2019 [eBook #60415]
Most recently updated: October 17, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Christine P. Travers and the
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN WILLIAM IV. WAS KING ***

# 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. v)

## PREFACE.

Several "Life and Times of William IV." have been written, but they all contain a great deal of "Life," and very little "Times." The present book reverses this, and deals, primarily, with the chief topics of conversation during the seven years of King William's reign, and, afterwards, with the social aspect of the times.

Although I treat of a period but sixty years since, it is a time of which much is to be said which is unknown to the present generation, and one which has had a deep and lasting influence on our own times. Then began the mighty reign of steam; then was inaugurated the first passenger railway, to which small beginning England owes so much. Then, too, steam navigation began to be general, developing (p. vi) that commerce which has been the making of the country. Science woke up, as did Art, whilst the introduction of the Railway caused our manufactures to progress by leaps and bounds.

Politics have been avoided as much as possible; and, although the book is necessarily somewhat discursive, I would fain hope it will be found interesting; and, in the words of the writer of Maccabees (Book II. xv. 38), I say, "Which if I have done well, and as it becometh the history, it is what I desired, but, if not so perfectly, it must be pardoned me."

JOHN ASHTON.

## (p. vii) CONTENTS.

(p. 1)

# WHEN WILLIAM IV. WAS KING.

## 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:—

"His Majesty, we regret to state, has experienced, during the last few days, an attack of indisposition. The King took an airing for some time on Monday. During the night his Majesty became indisposed; Sir Henry Halford, who was in attendance at the Palace that evening, and who, according to his usual practice, slept there, left the Palace on Tuesday morning and came to town, but thought it advisable to return to Windsor in the evening. Sir Henry came to town on Wednesday morning, and again returned to the Palace; when, finding that the King's attack of illness had increased, Sir Henry sent for Sir Matthew Tierney at an early hour yesterday morning. Sir Matthew immediately left town: on his arrival at the Palace, the two medical gentlemen held a consultation on the state of the King, and, afterwards, issued the following bulletin, a few minutes before one o'clock:—

(p. 2) Windsor Castle, April 15.

We regret to state that the King has had a bilious attack, accompanied by an embarrassment in breathing. His Majesty, although free from fever, is languid and weak.

(Signed)Henry Halford.
Matthew John Tierney.

"No alteration taking place in the state of the King, Sir Henry Halford, shortly after the issuing of the Bulletin, left the Castle in his carriage and four, for London. Sir Matthew Tierney remained in attendance on his Majesty during the whole of yesterday afternoon and evening, and it was arranged would sleep at the Palace. His Majesty remaining much in the same state during the afternoon, Sir Henry was not sent for, but would, it was expected, remain in Town during last night."

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—

"A portion of his late Majesty's costly and splendid wardrobe, destined for public sale, including the magnificent coronation robes and other costumes, was sold by auction, by Mr. Phillips, at his rooms in New Bond Street. There were 120 lots disposed of, out of which we subjoin the principal, in the order in which they were put up—

"No. 13. An elegant yellow and silver sash of the Royal (p. 5) Hanoverian Guelphic Order, £3 8s.—17. A pair of fine kid trousers, of ample dimensions, and lined with white satin, was sold for 12s.—35. The Coronation ruff, formed of superb Mechlin lace, £2.—50. The costly Highland costume, worn by our late Sovereign at Dalkeith Palace, the seat of his Grace the Duke of Buccleugh, in the summer of 1822, was knocked down at £40.—52.[2] The sumptuous crimson velvet Coronation mantle, with silver star, embroidered with gold, in appropriate devices, and which cost, originally, according to the statement of the auctioneer, upwards of £500, was knocked down at 47 guineas.—53. A crimson coat to suit with the above, £14.—55. A magnificent gold body dress and trousers, 26 guineas.—67. An extraordinary large white aigrette plume, brought from Paris by the Earl of Fife, in April, 1815, and presented by his lordship to the King, was sold for £15.—87. A richly embroidered silver tissue Coronation waistcoat and trunk hose, £13.—95. The splendid purple velvet Coronation mantle, sumptuously embroidered with gold, of which it was said to contain 200 ounces. It was knocked down at £55, although it was stated to have cost his late Majesty £300.—96. An elegant and costly green velvet mantle, lined with ermine of the finest quality; presented by the Emperor Alexander to his late Majesty, which cost upwards of 1000 guineas, was knocked down at £125."

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—

"I likes a Drop of Good Beer."

"Come one and all, both great and small
With voices loud and clear,
And let us sing, bless Billy the King,
Who bated the tax upon beer.

Chorus:

"For I likes a drop of good beer, I does,
I'se pertickler fond of my beer, I is;
And —— his eyes whoever he tries
To rob a poor man of his beer."

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—

"Adieu, my moustachios! farewell to my tip!
Lost, lost is the pride of my chin and my lip!
When Laura last saw me she said that the world
Contain'd no moustachois so charmingly curl'd!
But razors are ruthless, my honours they nip,
Adieu, my moustachois! farewell to my tip!"

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—

"He comes unexpectedly and unattended, as they are trooping the guard at St. James's, attired like a private gentleman, and nods graciously to the people, passes jokes with the officers, and tells the privates 'they shall rise by their own merits.'

"He comes to town on the dickey of his own chariot.

"He goes to Somerset House in a pair-horse carriage without a lancer, dragoon, or policeman to attend him, because he says, 'his guards are his people;' and he stops purposely in the streets that the people may say 'they have seen a King!'

"He employs a hairdresser in Water Lane, Fleet Street, to make his coachman's white and curled wigs; because the poor fellow, when he knew better days, lived at the West End, and was employed by the then Duke of Clarence. We have seen these wigs being made.

"He has all the members of his family, as a family, about him, and 'harmony and affection' is his favourite toast.

"He neither likes moustaches nor foreign servants; because the one disguises an Englishman's face, and the other dupes an Englishman's pocket.

(p. 18) "He observes an old sailor upon the lamp-post, near Somerset House, who gets aloft 'to look out for his captain' (old blue trouser's own words), and he sends him enough to rum it for a week.

"He overhauls the documents of the Navy Pay Office, to ascertain if any arrears of pay or prize-money are due to the seamen; and he orders refreshments to the poor recruits, to encourage them to become soldiers.

"He meets two ladies (by character as well as title) in St. James's, one of whom solicits the honour to kiss his hand. 'Madam,' says the gallant monarch, 'my glove for courtiers, but my cheek for ladies; may I be permitted to touch yours?' Lady M—— 'wore her blushing honours thick about her.'

"He asks people to dinner in the style of a friend, rather than a command, and does not require their presence if they have 'a better engagement.'

"Above all things, he impresses upon those who pay their respects to him officially, or visit him familiarly, that his friends are the Queen's.

"He proceeds in person, and in a style becoming the splendour of the Crown, to dissolve Parliament, appearing himself in the costume of a thorough-paced sailor; thus practising in his own person the precepts he command—thus giving countenance to his fellow-tars appearing in his presence in the dress which they can afford to procure, and in which they have conquered.

"His Majesty, we hear, paid great attention to Sir Robert Wilson at the levée, and, after conversing with him familiarly for some time, said, in conclusion, 'Meet me to-night at Sussex's, and bring your daughters with you.'

"A female servant of Mr. Brown, of Northampton, being in town with her mistress, was permitted to go to the review on Monday last, and, having obtained liberty from one of the soldiers to pass in front of the ranks, she approached the Royal carriage without knowing it, and asked one of the Ladies of Honour, 'Which is the Queen?' The Queen, hearing the inquiry, immediately answered, 'I am the Queen!' 'Oh, do show me the King, then!' The King, hearing the request, instantly turned round, and said with a smile, 'I am the King!' evidently enjoying her amazement and delight. The Queen (p. 19) permitted the woman to hold her hand, which she had seized in the hurry of the moment, for several minutes."

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)—

"Guildhall. Before Alderman Ansley.—An old tar, the very beau ideal of a 'true British sailor,' who gave his name as Will Robinson, his dark visage surmounted with a quantity of black hair, twisted and matted like so many ropes' ends, was charged with being drunk and assaulting the patrol of Aldgate Ward.

"Bunce, the complainant, stated that between three and four o'clock the preceding evening, he found the tar stretched keel uppermost upon the footway in Aldersgate Street, exposed, not altogether decently, to the gaze of a crowd of idle boys. Bunce roused him, and advised him to move on; but, instead of obeying, Will ordered him to sheer off, or he'd pour a broadside into him; and, suiting the action to the word, commenced pummelling complainant most furiously. Bunce would have had no chance against the heavy metal of Will Robinson, but Hawkins, the marshal-man, came up, and with his aid the tar was secured in the Compter. While they were on the way, the tar contrived to get his pocket-knife open in his hand, but Hawkins perceived it and took it from him.

"'You hear what the officer says?' observed the alderman, addressing the prisoner.

"'Yes; but it is a d—d lie,' roared out Will Robinson, enforcing his assertion by a loud thump of his clenched fist upon the bar.

"'He says you drew a knife upon him,' said the alderman.

"'Your honour knows I can't spin a long yarn like this here (p. 22) chap,' replied the old tar, 'but I never hurted man, woman, or child in my life, barring 'twas a frog-eater; but I was a lad then, and it was in the cause of old England; and d—e, I don't think I'd hurt him neither, after a glass of grog or two.'

"Alderman. 'How long have you been in England?'

"'Only two hours ashore, your honour,' replied Will. 'I'd just come from China, and got taking a glass with one messmate and a glass with another.'

"Alderman. 'The sure way to get drunk. You should have taken a glass with but one messmate.'

"'Your honour is an excellent preacher, and it's all very true; but if an old sailor, after a long voyage, when all hands are piped ashore, refused to drink with every mate who asked him, he'd be called a scaly fellow, and you know I should not like that.'

"Bunce. 'I did not mind the assault, but I thought it was better to put him in a place of safety for his own sake.'

"'D—e, you're an honest fellow, after all,' exclaimed the tar, seizing the officer's hand and squeezing it till the tears started into Bunce's eyes. 'Come, and we'll make it right over a glass of grog, old boy.'

"Alderman. 'I doubt whether you have any money left.'

"Will felt in his pockets, and could not find a copper. 'All gone! all gone!' exclaimed the tar, mournfully.

"'It's all right—I've got his money safe,' said Bunce, drawing forth an ample handful of silver and gold.

"'Huzza! huzza! Old England for ever!' vociferated the delighted tar, when he saw the money; and, seizing Bunce by the collar, 'Come along, come along, old boy; I'm as dry as a dolphin.'

"Bunce refused till he counted the money, shilling by shilling, in the presence of the alderman; but, when he began to do so, Will found the operation too slow for the current of his feelings; and, catching up the officer by the waist, he carried him off in triumph, exclaiming, 'Keep it, my boy, keep it; we'll drink every penny of it; and maybe his honour there' (turning to the alderman), 'would take a drop of summut.'

"The alderman could not contain his gravity, but he declined the offer; and Will set off with the officer still firmly held in his grip."

(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.

"On Wednesday morning, as early as seven o'clock, the people of Liverpool were seen flocking in crowds to the tunnel in order to secure good places for a view of the procession. The whole line of road, for the distance of seven or eight miles out of Liverpool, was lined by dense crowds; and several stands, to which the public had been admitted at half a crown a head, were completely filled. Eight of the Company's locomotive engines were brought down to the mouth of the tunnel at about half-past nine. The Duke of Wellington arrived about ten o'clock, and was greeted with enthusiasm by the immense crowd. The splendid state carriage, which had been prepared for his Grace, was taken down the tunnel; the military band played 'See the Conquering Hero comes;' and, in a few minutes, the Duke was drawn from the tunnel, amid the loud cheers of the spectators.

(p. 29) "The procession left Liverpool twenty minutes before eleven o'clock, drawn by eight locomotive engines, in the following order: Northumbrian, with the directors and numerous distinguished visitors, including the Duke of Wellington; Phœnix, green flag; North Star, yellow; Rocket,[7] light blue; Dart, purple; Comet, deep red; Arrow, pink; Meteor, brown; with visitors and proprietors. On issuing from the smaller tunnel at Liverpool, the Northumbrian took the south, or right-hand line of railway, and drew three carriages, the first containing the band, the second the Duke of Wellington and a number of other persons, of distinction, and the third the directors of the railway. The other engines proceeded along the north line.... The total number of persons conveyed was stated to be 772. The procession did not proceed at a pace of more than fifteen or sixteen miles an hour.

"In the course of the journey, the Northumbrian accelerated or retarded its speed occasionally, to give the Duke of Wellington an opportunity of inspecting the most remarkable parts of the work.

"Before starting from Liverpool, the company were particularly requested not to leave the carriages, and the same caution was repeated in the printed directions describing the order of the procession. Notwithstanding this regulation, Mr. Huskisson, Mr. William Holmes, M.P., and other gentlemen, alighted when the Northumbrian stopped at Parkside. On the stoppage of the Northumbrian at Parkside Bridge, Mr. Huskisson, as well as many others, got out, and Mr. Holmes, for the purpose of bringing Mr. Huskisson and the Duke together, and of producing a renewed good feeling between them, led Mr. Huskisson round to that part of the car where the Duke was stationed, who, perceiving the advance of the right hon. gentleman, immediately held out his hand to him, which was shaken in a very cordial manner. It was almost at this moment that the Rocket was perceived to be on the advance, and a general move took place to get out of its way, several persons calling out, 'Get in! get in!'

(p. 30) "Some followed this advice, scrambling up as best they might in the absence of the steps. Others made their way round to the end of the car, and Mr. Huskisson appeared to be acting under the idea of crossing the Rocket's railway before the engine came up; from this, however, he was deterred by the steepness of the bank beyond.

"Mr. Holmes, who was standing in the same situation as the right hon. gentleman, took his resolution on the instant, and drew himself up as closely as he could against the side of the ducal car. The intervening space between the railways is exactly four feet, but as the ducal car overhung it about two feet, and the Rocket engine about six inches, there was only a clear space of eighteen inches left—sufficient, however, to enable a person to stand without injury or damage.

"Mr. Holmes, whilst thus affixing himself in this manner to the ducal car, had time to perceive the irresolution of the right hon. gentleman, and he called out to him, 'For God's sake, be firm, Mr. Huskisson.' Mr. Huskisson grasped hold of the door of the ducal carriage the moment before the Rocket passed; this door, when open, projected so far over the neighbouring railway, that it was struck by the Rocket; the consequence was, that it swung rapidly round, overbalanced Mr. Huskisson, and caused him to fall on the railway of the Rocket, when his right leg instantly came in contact with the wheel of the engine, and was crushed.

"The Earl of Wilton, Mr. Holmes, and Mr. Parkes, solicitor of Birmingham, raised Mr. Huskisson from the ground. The only words he uttered at the time were to this effect, 'I have met my death. God forgive me.' The first thing that was done was to twist a handkerchief (in the manner of a tourniquet) tightly round the wounded parts of the limb, for the purpose of stopping the effusion of blood; and, the Northumbrian being detached from the carriages, it was sent forward, with the greatest possible speed, to Eccles, with Mr. Huskisson, the Earl of Wilton, Mr. Stephenson, and two medical gentlemen. A consultation was next held by the party at Newton, as to the course best to be adopted under these melancholy circumstances.

"The Duke of Wellington was very desirous that the procession should be stopped and return to Liverpool. After some consultation, (p. 31) however, this proposal was relinquished, and it was finally agreed to proceed with the ceremony of opening the railway, to prevent, in some degree, the alarm and disappointment which must otherwise have been occasioned to the vast multitudes who thronged this end of the railway. The carriages of the Duke and the directors were consequently attached to those which accompanied the Phœnix engine, and in this manner the whole proceeded at a slow pace to Eccles, where a stoppage took place, while the Duke and his friends made inquiry respecting the condition of Mr. Huskisson. The Northumbrian, which had, by this time, arrived from Manchester with Mr. Ransome and other surgeons, was then re-attached to the Duke's carriage, etc., and the whole proceeded in the order originally agreed upon, to Manchester. The Northumbrian, with the Duke and directors, arrived in front of the warehouses about a quarter before three, but the other engines and carriages, did not arrive till some time afterwards.

"Mr. Huskisson and the party who accompanied him, arrived at the Vicarage of Eccles about half-past one o'clock. A couch was carried to the railway, upon which he was placed, and in a reclining position, he was removed into the drawing-room of the Vicarage. A bed was immediately prepared for his accommodation; but the pain which he endured was so severe, that he could not be carried to it, and he remained upon the couch until the moment of his death.

"On arriving at the Vicarage, the surgeon found Mr. Huskisson in a state of extreme suffering, but remarkably composed, and exhibiting extraordinary firmness of mind. The bones of the leg were broken into small pieces, and a considerable wound was visible on the skin and muscles. The thigh bone, above the middle part, was also broken into several fragments, and the muscles were laid bare high up the thigh, exposing the principal nerves and blood-vessels. The professional gentlemen decided that it was impossible to adventure upon the amputation of the limb. The sufferings of the patient, during the few hours he survived, were most acute. Every now and then groans of the deepest agony were extorted from him by the intensity of the pain which he was enduring; there were, however, no screams, no murmurings against the dispensations of Providence; but (p. 32) every symptom of the most manly courage, the most unshrinking fortitude, and the most Christian resignation.

"In the course of the evening, when Mr. Blackburne, the Vicar, in reading the Lord's Prayer to him, came to the clause, 'forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us,' Mr. Huskisson said, in a firm and distinct tone of voice, 'That I do, most heartily; and I declare to God that I have not the slightest feeling of ill-will to any human being.' The Sacrament was, subsequently, administered to him and Mrs. Huskisson. He did not make any allusion, or send any remembrance, to his political friends. He showed a natural anxiety for the preservation of his character as a Statesman. 'The country,' said he, 'has had the best of me. I trust that it will do justice to my public character. I regret not the few years which might have remained to me, except for those dear ones,' added he, grasping Mrs. Huskisson's hand, and looking with affectionate regret upon her dejected countenance, 'whom I leave behind me.' He dictated a codicil to his will, which was drawn up by Mr. Wainwright, his secretary, and witnessed by the Earl of Wilton, and Lords Granville and Colvill. On the day following his death, an inquest was held on his body, the verdict of which was, 'Accidental death.'"

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:—

"My Lord Duke,

"From the situation of Lord Mayor, to which I have been elected, numberless communications have been made to me, both personally and by letter, in reference to the 9th, and it is on that account that I take the liberty of addressing your Grace.

"Although the feelings of the respectable citizens of London are decidedly loyal, yet it cannot but be known that there are, both in London, as well as the country, a set of desperate and abandoned characters who are anxious to avail themselves of any circumstance to create tumult and confusion. While all of any (p. 38) respectability in the city are vieing with each other to testify their loyalty on the occasion; from what I learn, it is the intention of some of the desperate characters above mentioned, to take the opportunity of making an attack on your Grace's person, on your approach to the Hall. Every exertion on my part shall be used to make the best possible arrangements in the City; and, at the same time, I feel that, should any violent attack be made in one quarter, any civil force alone might not be sufficiently effectual; and I should not be doing my duty, after what I have heard, did I not take the liberty of suggesting to your Grace the propriety of coming strongly and sufficiently guarded.

"I probably may be considered as giving you needless trouble, but the respect which I, as well as every person who really wishes the welfare of the country, must have for your Grace, and the gratitude we owe you, has induced me to adopt this course.

"I have, etc.

"(Signed) John Key,
"Lord Mayor Elect."

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:—

"My Lord,

"I am commanded by the King to inform your Lordship, that his Majesty's confidential servants have felt it to be their duty to advise the King to postpone the visit which their Majesties intended to pay the City of London on Tuesday next. From information which has been recently received, there is reason to apprehend that, notwithstanding the devoted loyalty and affection borne to his Majesty by the citizens of London, advantage would be taken of an occasion which must necessarily assemble a vast number of persons by night, to create tumult and confusion, and thereby to endanger the properties and the lives of his subjects. It would be a source of deep and lasting concern to their Majesties were any calamity to occur on the occasion of their visit to the City of London, and their Majesties have therefore (p. 39) resolved, though not without the greatest reluctance and regret, to forego, for the present, the satisfaction which that visit would have afforded to their Majesties.

"I have the honour to be, my Lord,

"Your obedient servant,

"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:—

"Both on Monday and on Tuesday (8th and 9th November) the streets of the Metropolis were unusually crowded, and a considerable degree of excitement prevailed. On Monday night a meeting was held at the Rotunda, in Blackfriars Road, at which Mr. Hunt presided as Chairman. It did not terminate till half-past eleven o'clock, when Hunt retired. The instant he left the meeting, an individual exposed a tri-coloured flag, with 'Reform' painted upon it; and a cry of 'Now for the West End,' was instantly raised. This seemed to act as a signal, evidently preconcerted, as the individuals composing the meeting, one and all, assented, and sallied forth in a body, the individual unfurling the tri-coloured flag.

"They then proceeded over the bridge, in numbers amounting to about a thousand, shouting as they passed along, 'Reform!' 'Down with the Police!' 'No Peel!' 'No Wellington!' In their route they were joined by others, and in this manner they proceeded through Fleet Street and the Strand. The Adelphi theatre was closing, and the audience about to leave, when, the shouts of the mob being heard, the doors were instantly closed, and the audience were kept in the house till they had passed. As they proceeded, they were joined by a considerable number of notoriously bad characters, who were very loud in their exclamations against the police.

"The mob first proceeded into Downing Street, where they formed themselves into a line immediately in the front of the residence of Earl Bathurst. A gentleman in the house, hearing the tumult, presented himself at the balcony, armed with a brace of pistols, and, addressing the mob, warned them against committing any illegal act, declaring that he would fire upon the first man that attempted to enter the house. Yells and groans followed this declaration, and a cry of 'Go it, go it!' was raised by the mob. At this moment, another gentleman came out on the balcony, and (p. 41) took the pistols out of his hands, upon which the mob gave loud cheers.

"A strong body of the new police arrived from Scotland Yard, and formed themselves into a line at the end of King Street to prevent the mob from going to the House of Commons, where they intended to proceed. A general fight now ensued, in which the new police were assisted by several respectable-looking men, who used every endeavour to put the mob to the rout. In the skirmish many received broken heads, and the flag was captured. Inspector Lincoln of the E division arrived with a body of seventy men, and an equal number of the B division also came up, when the mob, seeing the reinforcement, took to flight in all directions, and the most perfect quietude succeeded. Three of the most desperate of the rioters were arrested, and carried to the watch house in the Almonry, Westminster. A reinforcement of the Royal Horse Guards, blue, were mounted in the yard of the Horse Guards, and remained there during the night, and extra policemen, in bodies, paraded the streets.

"At an early hour in the morning of Tuesday, the new police were called out in considerable numbers, and, by five o'clock in the evening, a double row flanked the edges of either pavements, on the Westminster side of Temple Bar, for a considerable distance. This precaution was not taken without occasion, for, before this period, a dense mob had collected within Temple Bar, in order to see the preparations there made for an illumination. It was, at last, found necessary, at a late hour in the afternoon, to employ workmen in removing the temporary gas-pipes by which the lighting up was intended to have been effected, lest any of the mob should clamber the Bar, and communicate light to the various gas orifices.

"As soon as the workmen arrived for this purpose, a body of vagabonds ran through the avenues into Westminster, and endeavoured to excite alarm by cries of 'Fire! Fire!' A large body of the police were drawn up, about six o'clock, in the open space leading to Waterloo Bridge, and similar precautions were taken in other parts of Westminster.

"About half-past five, the refuse of the mob, which at an early hour had assembled in the City, proceeded along the Strand, in a body of between three and four hundred, consisting principally of (p. 42) boys of the lowest description, vociferating 'No Peel—down with the raw lobsters!' and other expressions of a similar tendency. On arriving at Catherine Street, they rushed up it, headed by a youth about sixteen, who cheered on the throng with 'This way, my lads—we'll give it them.' A temporary halt was made at the corner of York Street; the mob then proceeded down York Street, through Maiden Lane, Chandos Street, Hemming's Row, to the rear of the Menagerie, at Charing Cross; the whole of them yelling, shouting, groaning, and breaking windows in their progress. A strong body of the E division now rushed upon them, and dealt out severe blows with their staves on the heads and arms of the mob. The captain of the gang was the first to retreat; and the rioters were completely dispersed. At seven o'clock the end of Fleet Street, by Temple Bar, was nearly impassable, and the mob, who extended beyond the pathways, so as to leave barely room for a coach to pass, demanded from each passenger or coachman, as a passport, that he should pull off his hat and shout 'Huzzah!'

"The City side of Temple Bar was in a very tumultuous state. Stones were repeatedly thrown thence upon the police stationed on the Westminster side. Attempts were also made to close the gates, and several rushes upon the police were made from within. Mr. Brown, the Marshal, insisted upon having the control of the gate, as belonging to the City, and caused it to be instantly opened, which produced loud cheering among the mob, and the cry of 'The City police for ever!' They soon, however, lost their popularity, by opposing the passage of the mob through the gate; and Mr. Brown received a severe wound upon the head, in attempting to disarm the rioters. The other City officers were also roughly handled. The mob forced their way, but returned soon afterwards, and went quietly through the City. The police were afterwards withdrawn to a passage leading out of Picket Place into Newcastle Court; and conflicts took place between them and the mob, in which many on both sides received serious injuries. The mob, who appeared afraid to venture outside the gates of Temple Bar, amused themselves with throwing stones and large pieces of wood among the police in Picket Place; they obtained these missiles from the New Law Institution in Chancery Lane, the scaffold of which was broken down and carried off, amidst loud cheers.

(p. 43) "In the course of the evening, another mob, of between four and five hundred persons, proceeded along Piccadilly, and, in a smart trot, made their way to Apsley House, the residence of the Duke of Wellington; hallooing, and bestowing the usual expression of disapprobation on the Duke, Mr. Peel, and the police. On their reaching the end of Piccadilly, they were met with a strong force of the D division of police, who succeeded in dispersing them in different directions, without any serious accident to either party. At eleven o'clock, Piccadilly and the whole of the West End, from the bottom of the Haymarket upwards, was in an undisturbed state; but the police, in number between four and five hundred, were drawn up in Spring Gardens, ready to act, should necessity require them to do so. Frequent communications took place from the different station-houses to the head-quarters at Scotland Yard, and the men employed as messengers upon this occasion were attired in plain clothes, the better to facilitate their progress, and prevent them from being attacked.

"Several parties of ill-disposed persons, many of whom were boys, paraded the streets in Bethnal Green, Spitalfields, and Whitechapel, for the purpose of creating a riot, but were disappointed. One party, more formidable than the rest, passed by Worship Street Office into Church Street, Spitalfields, where they demolished the gas lamp and some windows at the police station there, and, afterwards, those of a Mr. Chapple, a fruiterer; thence they took a circuit round Bethnal Green, and returned into the City without committing further mischief. The magistrates were the whole evening in attendance at the different offices. As early as six o'clock, the shops in St. Paul's Churchyard, Ludgate Hill, and Fleet Street, were completely closed, in consequence of the number of men assembled. The City police in motion in the course of the day amounted to from five hundred to six hundred men, including the firemen, ticket porters, and tackle porters."

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. 48)

## (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—

"The following 'Swing' letter is the most ingenious commentary which we have met with on the present infatuated attempts to destroy machinery. Here is a fellow threatening the life of a respectable person, because he is the means of reducing the number of water-carriers, and supplies the inhabitants with a quantity of that prime necessary of life, on terms cheaper than they could obtain it from the moveable reservoirs which convey some fifty or sixty gallons at a time round the town, at the rate of a halfpenny a pailfull. The climax of the joke is the threat which it holds out, of burning the Waterworks!

"'Golsworthy.—This is to inform you that you and your waterworks being the pest of the City of Exeter, not only by taking the bread out of the mouths of the poor watermen, but by your (p. 50) overbearance and pride, this is to inform you that if you do not destroy that vile machine of yours, in 9 days, it shall be burnt to the ground; and, further, if you neglect this notice, you shall not only have your property burnt, but a mark shall be made of your body.

"'From your deadly enemy,

"'Swing.

"'Neglect not this, or you will know the weight of lead.'"

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:—

"I, Thomas Goodman, once herd of one Mr. Cobbit going a Bout gaveing out lactuers; at length he came to Battel and gave one their, and there was a gret number of Peopel came to hear him and i went: he had A verry long conversation concerning the states of the country, and telling them that they war verrey much impose upon, and he said he would show them the way to gain their rights and liberals, and he said it would be very Proper for every man to keep gun in his house, espesely young men, and that they might prepare themselves in readyness to go with him when he called on them, and he would show them wich way to go on, and he said the peopel might expect fire as well as other places.—this is the truth and nothing But the truth of A deying man.

"Thomas Goodman."

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.

"The Hon. S. Wortley to John Morrison.
1830. |  | £ | s. | d.
July | 21. |  | The Dinner above mentioned | 69 | 2 | 0
" | 22. |  | Champagne, £13; Gin, 12/- | 13 | 12 | 0
" | " |  | Brandy | 0 | 15 | 0
" | 23. |  | Whisky Toddy, 10/-; Brandy Toddy, 18/- | 1 | 8 | 0
" | 24. |  | Claret, £9 10/-; Champagne, £10 | 19 | 10 | 0
" | 26. |  | Supper, £1; Brandy, 10/-; Gin 12/- | 2 | 2 | 0
" | " |  | Gin Toddy, 20/-; Whisky Toddy, 16/- | 1 | 16 | 0
" | " |  | Champagne, £12 10/-; Claret, £13 | 25 | 10 | 0
" | 27. |  | Brandy Toddy, 18/-; Gin Toddy, 20/- | 1 | 18 | 0
" | " |  | Sherry, £5 2/-; Port, £4 16/- | 9 | 18 | 0
" | 28. |  | Champagne, £8 10/-; Whisky Toddy, 10/- | 9 | 0 | 0
" | 29. |  | Supper, £1 7/6; Perry Cider, 20/- | 2 | 7 | 6
" | " |  | Brandy Toddy, £1 4/-; Gin Toddy, £1 10/- | 2 | 14 | 0
" | " |  | Champagne, £13; Ginger beer, 6/- | 13 | 6 | 0
" | 30. |  | Suppers, 22/6; Gin, 8/-; Brandy, 7/6 | 1 | 18 | 0
" | " |  | Gin Toddy; 30/-; Brandy Toddy, 30/- | 3 | 0 | 0
" | " |  | Champagne | 12 | 0 | 0
Aug. | 1. |  | Claret, £8; Sherry, £5 8/-; Port, £7 4/- | 20 | 12 | 0
" | 2. |  | Suppers, 17/6; Gin, 16/-; Brandy, 30/- | 3 | 3 | 6
" | " |  | Whisky Toddy, 20/-; Champagne, £7 10/- | 8 | 10 | 0
" | 3. |  | Claret, £10; Gin, 15/-; Brandy, 18/- | 11 | 13 | 0
" | 6. |  | Champagne, £8; Gin, 5/- | 8 | 5 | 0
" | 9. |  | Whisky Toddy, 13/10; Brandy Toddy, 18/- | 1 | 11 | 10
(p. 54) " | 12. |  | Madeira, £6; Champagne, £9 | 15 | 0 | 0
" | 12. |  | Madeira, £7 10/-; Champagne, £8 | 15 | 10 | 0
" | 21. |  | Champagne, £5; Claret, £7 10/- | 12 | 10 | 0
" | 23. |  | ditto £2 10/-; do. £5 10/- | 8 | 0 | 0
" | 25. |  | ditto £6 10/-; Port, £1 4/- | 7 | 14 | 0
Sep. | 15. |  | ditto | 6 | 0 | 0
| —— | —— | ——
| £308 | 5 | 10

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:—

Aldborough | 60
Aldeburgh | 80
Appleby | 110
Bedwin | 70
Beer Alston | 90
Bishop's Castle | 45
Bletchingly | 70
Borough Bridge | 48
Bossiney | 30
Brackley | 32
Bramber | 19
Buckingham | 13
Callington | 45
Camelford | 24
Castle Rising | 43
Corfe Castle | 55
Dunwich | 18
Eye | 95
Fowey | 76
Gatton | 5
Haslemere | 58
Heden | 246
Heytesbury | 45
Higham Ferrers | 145
Hindon | 250
Ilchester | 70
East Looe | 50
West Looe | 55
Lostwithiel | 30
Ludgershall | 70
Malmesbury | 13
Midhurst | 18
Milborne Port | 90
Minehead | 10
Newport (Cornwall) | 62
Newton (Lancashire) | 60
Newton (Isle of Wight) | 40
Okehampton | 230
Orford | 20
Petersfield | 140
Plympton | 210
Queensborough | 270
Reigate | 200
Romney | 150
St. Mawe's | 20
St. Michaels (Cornwall) | 32
(p. 55) Saltash | 36
Old Sarum | 7
Seaford | 98
Steyning | 110
Stockbridge | 110
Tregony | 100
Wareham | 20
Wendover | 140
Weobly | 90
Whitchurch | 70
Winchelsea | 40
Woodstock | 400
Wootton Bassett | 100
Yarmouth | 50

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

Amersham | 125
Arundel | 450
Ashburton | 170
Bewdley | 13
Bodmin | 36
Bridport | 340
Chippenham | 135
Clitheroe | 45
Cockermouth | 180
Dorchester | 200
Downton | 60
Droitwich | 12
Evesham | 600
Grimsby | 300
Morpeth | 200
Northallerton | 200
Penryn | 400
Richmond | 270
Rye | 25
St. Germains | 70
St. Ives | 200
Sandwich | 955
Sudbury | 800
Shaftesbury | 30
East Grinstead | 30
Guildford | 250
Helston | 36
Honiton | 350
Huntington | 240
Hythe | 150
Launceston | 15
Leominster | 700
Liskeard | 100
Lyme Regis | 30
Lymington | 70
Malton | 270
Marlborough | 21
Marlow | 235
Tamworth | 300
Thetford | 21
Thirsk | 60
Totness | 58
Truro | 26
Wallingford | 180
Westbury | 70
Wilton | 20
Wycombe | 65

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:—

"Epigram.

To call a Lord a 'thing' is voted treason:
To call him 'no-thing,' then, must be in season."

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.

(p. 59) "Reduced Price of Votes.

"A police constable belonging to a division at the east end of the Metropolis, who has a vote for a borough not more than thirty miles from London, applied to his inspector for permission to go into the country to poll for one of the anti-reform candidates, on Saturday morning. 'What do you expect to make by going down?' inquired the inspector, from motives of curiosity. 'Only £10 and the payment of my expenses,' was the reply of the 'independent freeman.' 'Is that all?' exclaimed the inspector. 'I thought you would make double that sum by your vote.' 'Oh no,' replied the policeman, 'they don't come down now as they used to do. I have had as much as £40 for my vote, and never less than £25; but now I am glad to get £10.' 'Well, you may go,' said the inspector; 'it will be the last time you will be wanted to vote, I have no doubt.' 'I hope not, sir,' ejaculated the policeman, with a long-drawn sigh; 'and if that Reform Bill passes, it will be a sad loss to me and my brother freemen.'"

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—

(p. 71) | £ | s. | d.
In the several departments of their Majesties households | 22,234 | 10 | 3
By the Office of Arms, for the King's Heralds and Pursuivants | 1478 | 3 | 9
In the Office of Works, for fitting up the Abbey, etc. | 12,085 | 14 | 5
In the Mint for Coronation Medals | 4326 | 4 | 6
The amount expended for fireworks, and for keeping open the public theatres on the night of the Coronation | 3034 | 18 | 7
| ——— | —— | ——
Total | 43,159 | 11 | 6
| ——— | —— | ——

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]—

"In the midst of the general interest and affectionate zeal excited by the sublime ceremony of to-morrow, of a constitutional monarch pledging himself to a free people to guard their rights and privileges, it has been remarked, with very general surprise, that the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria are the only members of the Royal family, old or young, who are not to be present at the Coronation. It is with deep regret that we have learned that her Royal Highness has refused to attend! Yes, has refused to attend! and that her absence on this occasion, is in pursuance of a systematic opposition on the part of her Royal Highness to all the wishes and all the feelings of the present King. Now, the presence, or absence of the Duchess herself, is a matter of comparative indifference—it is merely disrespectful; but that of the Princess Victoria, which must, as to its immediate cause, be imputed to her mother, cannot fail of being considered by the public as indecent and offensive. We should be glad to know who are the advisers of this misguided lady? Who can have dared to counsel her, the widow of a mediatized German Prince, whose highest ambition never could have contemplated the possibility of an alliance with the Blood Royal of England, to oppose the Sovereign to whom she is bound by so many ties of gratitude? Her Royal Highness must have been acting under a well-grounded confidence in the indulgence and forbearance of his Majesty, or an entire ignorance of the authority of the Crown. The Constitution has limited the political power of the King, but has left it uncontrolled and despotic over the members of his own family; and it cannot be disputed that she who is ignorant of the respect which is due to the Crown, is unfit to form the mind and superintend the education of the infant who is destined to wear it.

"We could mention some curious facts, which, for the present, we shall abstain from doing. We would rather admonish than expose, and shall rejoice if these monitory hints be not thrown away. No monarch has more endeared himself to his subjects (p. 78) than William IV.; and the Duchess of Kent is grossly mistaken if she thinks to ingratiate herself with the people of this country by opposition to the will and disrespect to the power of the King."

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

"In an affair of great delicacy, to which we have already alluded, our wish would be, if we might be permitted, to put the public in possession of the whole truth, and then let the matter drop, for we know that protracted discussions are apt to excite resentments which did not, at first, exist. It was impossible that the absence of the Duchess of Kent, and of the Princess Victoria, her daughter, from the Coronation, should have escaped notice; we, therefore, stated what the fact would be, and assigned some causes for it. We now hope to close the account in a manner which may suppress rising animosities. We have received two versions of the affair, and both, if we look to the quarters from which they come, entitled to the highest consideration.

"The first says, 'Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent wrote to the Duke of Norfolk, as Hereditary Earl Marshal, to know how she was to go to the Abbey herself, and what arrangement had been made for the Princess Victoria. The answer was: that his Majesty had signified his pleasure that her Royal Highness should attend in her place as a dowager Princess and Peeress, and that the Princess Victoria should go under the care of the Landgravine and the Princess Augusta, and be attended by the Duchess of Northumberland, in the Royal pew. This answer having been received, so far was her Royal Highness from declining attendance, that she ordered her robes, and it was understood by all the Royal family that she would be there. The King, never doubting but that the Duchess would be at the Coronation, ordered a letter to be written to her to know whom she would name to carry her Coronet: to this, no answer was received. After waiting some time, his Majesty ordered another letter to be written in his own name, and to this, an answer did come, from Sir John Conroy, speaking of her attendance as uncertain, but saying that, if she did attend, she would have her coronet borne by Lord Morpeth.'

(p. 79) "Our other account agrees, in the chief facts, with the preceding; but adds, 'Her Royal Highness wrote to express her ready compliance with the arrangement made as to the places selected for herself and her daughter, and her desire to be present at the ceremony, and to mark her dutiful regard to his Majesty; but it was, afterwards, considered inexpedient to interrupt the benefit which the Princess Victoria's health was receiving by her residence near the sea; and, upon this ground, and, also, upon the expense which would attend the Duchess of Kent's leaving the Isle of Wight, and removing all her establishment to town, so as to appear in state at the Coronation, his Majesty was pleased, in the most gracious, and the kindest manner, to dispense with the attendance of the Duchess of Kent, and the Princess, her daughter.'

"Upon these two accounts we may observe, that the latter takes no notice of the delay in answering the letters written by his Majesty's direction; and the former omits all mention of the King's graciously dispensing with the attendance of the illustrious personages at the Coronation. It may seem singular that the Duchess should first apply to know the place assigned to herself and the Princess, and, after these were known, decline attendance, if there were no dissatisfaction. But, perhaps, some cause for alarm might have sprung up, on the score of her daughter's health. The expense was no greater after the question about places was answered than before. However, his Majesty's acquiescence in the reasons alleged for absence, may serve to satisfy the objections of every other person.

"The claims of an heiress presumptive are not recognised, so far as we know, in any part of the Constitution; and to consolidate any pretensions of this hypothetical nature into an opposition to his Majesty, as it would be madness, we feel very well convinced, cannot be contemplated by her Royal Highness."

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 rejection of the Reform Bill caused some partial disturbances in the country. At Derby, a mob, on Saturday and Sunday, the 8th and 9th, committed several outrages, attacked the city gaol, set the prisoners at liberty, and then proceeded to the county gaol, where they were resisted and foiled in the attempt: on Monday evening quiet was restored, but not before several lives were lost, and many persons wounded. One young man, son of Mr. Haden, surgeon, was killed by the mob.

"At Nottingham, the castle, which belongs to the Duke of Newcastle, was burnt down; Colwick Hall, the seat of John Musters, Esq., was broke into, the furniture destroyed (including several valuable pictures, particularly Sir Joshua Reynolds' whole length of Mrs. M.), and the house set on fire, which, however, was soon extinguished. A factory at Beeston, belonging to Mr. Lowe, was burnt down. The House of Correction was attacked, but, the 15th Hussars arriving, the mob dispersed; fifteen of them were made prisoners. Some trifling disturbances took place at Loughborough.

"In the metropolis, also, fears were entertained; on the 10th the inhabitants of Bond Street were thrown into a panic, by a report that a mob of several thousand persons were coming, with the determination of breaking all windows where the shutters were not closed. Although it was only six o'clock, every shop was instantly closed, and the street presented, from one end to the other, a very dark and gloomy appearance. In Regent Street and some other of the great thoroughfares, the shutters were closed; and where there was property, more particularly valuable, boards were nailed across. Several Reform meetings were held on the same day, and various stratagems were had recourse to, by their promoters, to induce the shopkeepers and other inhabitants, to make a display of revolutionary emblems.

"On the 11th, as three policemen were coming through St. James's Square, with a prisoner in their custody, the crowd surrounded them, and rescued the prisoner. The constables took out their staves, but were pushed along until they arrived at (p. 82) Waterloo Place, where they were joined by a party of police. At the corner of Waterloo Place, the crowd took advantage of a heap of macadamised stones, which they flung at the police in every direction, so that the latter were glad to make their escape.

"Between two and three o'clock, a large assemblage took place in Hyde Park. Stones were thrown at Apsley House, and a few squares of glass were broken. When some of the Duke of Wellington's servants presented themselves at the windows, great hissing and hooting followed, and immediately afterwards, a shower of stones was thrown at the house, and almost every square of glass in it was demolished. Some policemen, who were upon the spot at the time, endeavoured to drive the crowd out of the Park, but violent resistance was made, and the constables were, ultimately, compelled to make a precipitate retreat, and take shelter in his grace's mansion. Notice of these proceedings having been given to St. James's police station, a large party of the C and T divisions, headed by a superintendent and four inspectors, proceeded with all possible haste to Hyde Park, where they formed in a body under the statue. They had not been there many minutes before they were saluted with several showers of stones. These attacks were, for a time, borne with exemplary patience; but, at length, a large crowd having collected in front of the Duke of Wellington's house, the police, in number about 200, sallied forth, and, in an instant, the rabble ran in all directions. Several of the ringleaders were taken into custody, and conveyed to Knightsbridge barracks.

"After the mob had been driven out of Hyde Park, they proceeded to the mansion of Earl Dudley, and commenced throwing stones at the windows; but a strong body of police, who had been stationed in his lordship's stables, suddenly rushed upon them with their staves, and the mob were beaten off.

"Some desperate attacks were made upon the new police by regularly organised gangs of pickpockets, and several constables were very severely beaten. At the corner of Charles Street, St. James's Square, some young thieves were taken into custody by three of the police, who were detached from the main body; the prisoners were rescued, and the constables were obliged to make their escape. One of the inspectors of the C division, who was parading in Pall Mall in private clothes, was recognised by (p. 83) some of the rabble, who kicked him and beat him in so cruel a manner, that he narrowly escaped with his life.

After the Levée was over, a vast number of the lower orders assembled in the park, awaiting the arrival of some of the Anti-Reform peers. About five o'clock, the Marquis of Londonderry, accompanied by a friend, made his appearance on horseback, and was proceeding to the House of Lords. Before the Marquis was aware, he found himself in the midst of between 4000 and 5000 persons. At first, he was not recognised, and he was proceeding with apparent security, when, on a sudden, a voice exclaimed, 'There goes the Marquis of Londonderry.' In an instant he was assailed with pebbles. Several of the missiles struck his lordship, which so enraged him, that he pulled up his horse, and solemnly declared that he would shoot at the first individual who again dared to molest him. His lordship accompanied his declaration by pulling out a brace of pistols. This, for a time, so intimidated the mob, that they gave way in a slight degree; and, after the Marquis had conversed for a few seconds with a gentleman on horseback near him, he rode off towards the Horse Guards. Thither the mob followed; and, believing that his lordship only endeavoured to intimidate them, they commenced another attack. The showers of stones were now thicker than ever, and one stone, hurled with considerable force, struck the noble Marquis immediately over his right temple, cut through his hat, and inflicted a serious wound on his head, which rendered his lordship nearly insensible. The military here interposed, and the Marquis was placed in a hackney coach, and conveyed home."

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:—

(p. 87) "I receive, with satisfaction, the expression of your loyalty and attachment to my person and government, and of your confidence in my Constitutional advisers.

"You may be assured of my sincere desire to uphold and to improve the securities afforded by the Constitution, for the maintenance of the just rights of my people, and you may rely on my continued disposition to further the adoption of such measures as may seem best calculated for that purpose. For the safe and successful accomplishment of such measures, it is, above all things, necessary that they should be discussed with calmness and deliberation; and I earnestly recommend to you to use all the influence you justly possess, with your fellow citizens, for the purpose of preserving the public peace from any interruption by acts of violence and commotion."

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—

"For the last two or three days the reports from Sunderland about the Cholera have been of a doubtful character. The disease makes so little progress that the doctors begin, again, to doubt whether it is the Indian Cholera, and the merchants, shipowners, and inhabitants, who suffer from the restraints imposed upon an infected place, are loudly complaining of the measures which have been adopted, and strenuously insisting that their town is in a more healthy state than usual, and the disease is no more than what it is usually visited with at this season.

"In the mean time all preparations are going on in London, just as if the disorder was actually on its way to the metropolis. We have a Board at the Council Office, between which, and the Board at the College, some civilities have passed, and the latter is now ready to yield up its functions to the former, which, however, (p. 93) will not be regularly constituted without much difficulty and many jealousies, all owing to official carelessness and mismanagement. The Board has been diligently employed in drawing up suggestions and instructions to local boards and parochial authorities, and great activity has prevailed here, in establishing committees for the purposes of visiting the different districts of the metropolis, and making such arrangements as may be necessary, in the event of sickness breaking out. There is no lack of money or labour for this end, and one great good will be accomplished, let what will happen, for much of the filth and misery of the town will be brought to light, and the condition of the poorer and more wretched of the inhabitants can hardly fail to be ameliorated.

"The reports from Sunderland exhibit a state of human misery, and necessarily, of moral degradation, such as I hardly ever heard of, and it is no wonder, when a great part of that community is plunged into such a condition (and we may fairly suppose that there is a gradually mounting scale, with every degree of wretchedness, up to the wealth and splendour which glitter on the surface of society), that there should be so many who are ripe for any desperate scheme of revolution. At Sunderland, they say, there are houses with 150 inmates, who are huddled five and six in a bed. They are in the lowest state of poverty. The sick in these receptacles are attended by an apothecary's boy, who brings them (or, I suppose, tosses them) medicines, without distinction or inquiry."

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

| Total cases from commencement of disease. | Deaths.
Sunderland |  | 528 |  | 197
Newcastle |  | 286 |  | 99
North Shields and Tynemouth |  | 16 |  | 9
Gateshead |  | 143 |  | 55
Houghton le Spring and Pensher |  | 29 |  | 14
Haddington |  | 6 |  | 4
Walker Colliery |  | 7 |  | 1

(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—

"Yesterday afternoon, between two and three o'clock, the neighbourhood of Barratt's Court, Edward Street, Portman Square, was thrown into a state of violent uproar and confusion, in consequence of the messengers of the Marylebone Board of Health attempting to move to the cholera hospital in Nutford Place, Edgware Road, an Irishman, named John Heron, who was suddenly taken ill on Thursday (March 29th), and who was alleged to have been attacked with cholera. The messengers brought with them the usual sedan chair to carry away the patient, and were attended by five of the police force of the D division, to prevent any interruption being offered them in taking the man away. They had no sooner arrived opposite the house, than they were assailed with groans, hisses, and yells of a most discordant (p. 109) character, from a number of Heron's countrymen, who expressed their determination not to allow him to be removed out of his own apartment.

"The messengers, however, succeeded, after much difficulty, and with the assistance of the police, who were compelled to use their staves, in placing the man in the chair, and had proceeded with him but a few yards, when a simultaneous rush of the Irish, who had by this time assembled in the court to the number of between five and six hundred, was made, and in an instant the policemen were hemmed in by the crowd, and had their staves wrested from them. A scene of the utmost confusion and disorder then ensued; the sick man was dragged out of the chair, and pulled about in a most violent and shameful manner; the chair was broken to pieces, and, after much contention and disturbance, the man was carried back to his lodging, amidst the shouts of the victorious party, who declared they would resist any attempt that might be made to remove him. The disturbance assumed such a serious appearance at one time, that most of the neighbours closed their shops for the remainder of the afternoon. The whole of the neighbourhood remained in a state of excessive tumult during the rest of the evening. The necessary measures were afterwards taken by the police to preserve tranquillity."

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:—

"Dublin, June 5th.—These three days past the country has been in an extraordinary state of excitement. Messengers are running and riding through the counties Carlow, Kilkenny, Wicklow, West Meath, Dublin, King and Queen's County, Meath, Wexford, and Longford, leaving a small piece of turf (peat fuel), at every cabin, with the following exhortation: 'The plague has broken out, take this, and while it burns, offer up seven paters, three aves, and a credo, in the name of God and the holy St. John, that the plague may be stopped!' The messenger lays each householder under an 'obligation,' as it is called, to kindle his piece of turf, set fire to seven other pieces, quench them, and run through the country to seven other houses, wherein no turf has yet been left, and to repeat the same exhortation, under a penalty of falling a victim to the cholera himself! Men, women, and children are seen scouring the country in every direction, with this charmed turf, each endeavouring to be foremost in finding unserved houses. One man, yesterday, in the Bog of Allen, had to run thirty miles ere he could fulfil his task.

"The stories of its origin are various, but all agree that one piece of turf was blessed by a priest, and thus sent through the peasantry, where it multiplied itself and its powers of agitation sevenfold in every new hand. Nothing like it has been heard of since the time of the clan-gatherings. The police are on the alert, and messengers have been arrested from Kilkenny, where the blessed turf arrived at noon on Monday, to this city, where it came pouring in last night. The authorities are suspicious of Whitefeet conspiracy and secret intelligence, but nothing yet has transpired to warrant this view of the affair. The higher classes receive the blessed turf, and laugh at the thing as a hoax on the peasantry, without troubling themselves in transmitting it further; but the poorer householders are one and all in motion to avert the cholera and the curse of disobedience attaching to neglect.

"No one knows where the holy fire was first kindled. There (p. 111) are various accounts. It is said that it was first sent from Kilmayne, from Blessington, from New Ross and from Roscrea; that lightning consumed houses in New Ross, and that the holy turf was first kindled at its fire, etc.; but it is certain that the whole of the central counties of Ireland are thrown into a singular state of agitation. Yesterday, along the whole line of the grand canal from Dublin to Shannon harbour, people might be seen running. The captain of one of the packet boats that arrived in the city last night saw a turf-cutter running along the bank in the Bog of Allen to whom he owed some money for fuel. He called to him, 'Paddy, get in, and I'll pay you now.'—'I can't,' replied Paddy, still running, 'I've to serve seven houses yet with the holy turf, and I'd rather lose the money than earn the cholera.' The priests, in whose parishes this wildfire has spread, confess themselves as ignorant of its origin as the peasantry are."

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—

"The House of Lords routed.

"On Saturday last, the Town-green pond at Dunfermline teemed with toads, and, apparently, under extraordinary excitation. A number of boys stood looking on intensely for some time, when one of them exclaimed, 'It's the House of Lords debatin' the Reform Bill.' In an instant, 'Demolish,' was the universal and simultaneous cry. Caps and bonnets were filled (p. 115) with stones. 'Now for Wellington!' 'Here's at you, Londonderry!' 'Take that, Buckingham!' 'The bishops, the bishops!' shouted a little urchin. The 'hurra' became universal, and terrible was the work of death. The above incident 'points a moral,' if it does not 'adorn a tale.'"

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

"From the Hon. Henry —— to Lady Emma ——.

"Paris, March 30.

"You bid me explain, my dear angry Ma'amselle,
How I came thus to bolt, without saying farewell;
And the truth is,—as truth you will have, my sweet railer,—
There are two worthy persons I always feel loth
To take leave of at starting, my mistress and tailor,—
As, somehow, one always has scenes with them both:
The Snip in ill-humour, the Syren in tears,
She calling on Heaven, and he on th' attorney,—
Till, sometimes, in short, 'twixt his duns and his dears,
A young gentleman risks being stopp'd on his journey.

"But to come to the point:—though you think, I dare say
That 'tis debtor or Cholera drives me away,
'Pon honour you're wrong; such a mere bagatelle
As a pestilence, nobody, nowadays, fears;
The fact is, my love, I'm thus bolting, pell-mell,
To get out of the way of these horrid new Peers;
This deluge of coronets, frightful to think of,
Which England is now, for her sins, on the brink of;—
This coinage of nobles, coined, all of them, badly,
And sure to bring counts to a discount most sadly.

"Only think, to have Lords overrunning the nation,
As plenty as frogs in a Dutch inundation;
No shelter from Barons, from Earls no protection,
And tadpole young Lords, too, in every direction,—
Things created in haste, just to make a Court list of,
(p. 116) Two legs and a coronet, all they consist of!
The prospect's quite frightful, and what Sir George R—e
(My particular friend) says, is perfectly true,
That so dire the alternative, nobody knows,
'Twixt the Peers and the Pestilence, what he's to do;
And Sir George even doubts,—could he choose his disorder,—
'Twixt coffin and coronet, which he would order."

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—

"The Marylebone, or Tory Hunt.

"During the proceedings of the great Reform meeting of the parishes of St. Marylebone, St. Pancras, and Paddington, rather a ludicrous incident (as it turned out) occurred, which may, properly enough, be denominated as above. In the immediate vicinity of the spot on which the immense assemblage congregated, some Tory lordlings had the temerity to make their appearance on horseback, and, among the number, was recognized the heir-apparent of that pink of Toryism, the Earl of Mansfield; no sooner was this made known, than a thousand voices besieged the affrighted lordlings' ears; they put spurs to beast, and endeavoured to escape, but in vain; the Marylebonians gave chase, but, instead of the cry "So, ho!" yells, groans, and even (p. 118) missiles were let fly. It was, really, a fine hunt—over hedge, over ditch and bog; and, after a fine run of two miles, the lordlings were surrounded, and, fortunately for them, their cries for mercy were granted, and they were allowed to scamper off, after such a chastisement as they will never forget."

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]—

(p. 120) "On the 18th of June our Equity Courts were not sitting. I was, therefore, in chambers; and, as I sat working near the window on the ground floor, I was startled by three horsemen passing towards Stone Buildings, with a mob at their heels, shouting, hooting, and hissing. I sent my clerk to see what was the matter, and, upon his return, finding that the Duke of Wellington was the object of displeasure, I sent the clerk, with some others, round to the men's chambers, to beg them to come at once to protect the Duke. I found the Duke, with Lord Granville Somerset, and Lord Eliot, had been to the Tower on official business, and were then at the Chambers, in Stone Buildings, of Mr. Maule, the Solicitor to the Treasury, with whom the Duke had an appointment. In making my way to Mr. Maule's, I found a considerable mob in Stone Buildings and its approaches, and their conduct was most violent.

"When I joined the Duke, we considered what was the best mode of protecting him and his companions. He would not listen to any mode of retreat by which he might avoid the mob. I assured him that the Lincoln's Inn men would effectually prevent any violence, and he determined to get on horseback again, and to ride through the streets. I then went downstairs, and ordered the small gate leading to Portugal Street to be shut and guarded, so as to prevent the people getting round that way to interrupt us when we went through the great gates into Carey Street; and I ordered those gates to be shut as soon as the Duke had passed. I addressed a few words to the gentlemen, who had assembled in considerable numbers, and requested them to occupy the stone steps which the Duke would have to descend, in order to reach his horse. This they did, with great heartiness, and they exhibited, I may say, a fierce determination to defend the Duke against all comers. A butcher was bawling lustily against the Duke, when a young gentleman, a solicitor, seized him by the collar with one hand, and knocked him down with the other, and the mob seemed rather amused at it. The Duke, upon my return upstairs, asked how he was to find his way out of the Inn. I told him that I would walk before him. He would allow no one to hold or touch his horse whilst he mounted. He was pale, with a severe countenance, and immovable in his saddle, and looked straight before him, and so continued whilst I was with him. (p. 121) Lords Granville Somerset and Eliot rode on each side of him, and, of course, his groom behind. I walked in front, and, shortly, a brother barrister came up, and asked me if he might walk with me. I gladly accepted his arm, and we moved on, the mob, all the time, being in a state of fury. When we reached Lincoln's Inn Fields, a policeman made his appearance, and, drawing his staff, prepared for an onslaught. I called to him, and told him that the Duke's progress was under my directions, and that I desired he would put up his truncheon and keep himself quiet until I called upon him to act, and that he would communicate this order to the other policemen, as they came up. This kept them perfectly quiet. As we proceeded, the noise of the mob attracted the workmen in the shops and manufactories, particularly in Long Acre, where the upper windows were quickly opened by workmen, who, with their paper caps on, rushed to join the people; but nowhere was there any personal violence offered to the Duke, and the respectable portions of the crowd would promptly have crushed any attempt at violence.

"I had walked from the West End to my chambers that morning, and I recollected that there was an excavation at the west end of Long Acre, and a large mass of paving, and other stones collected there. I ordered several of the police to go there, in advance, quietly, and occupy the ground, so as to prevent any one from making use of the stones. This they did; but, scandalous as the conduct of the mob was, I must do them the justice to say that they showed no disposition to get at the stones. When we reached the West End streets, the people tailed off a good deal.

"As the Duke passed the United Service Club, he maintained his rigid posture, and cast no glance that way, whilst a few men who had rushed out of the club upon hearing the noise, looked on with wonder. Nothing more occurred; and, when we got opposite to the clock of St. James's palace, I, for the first time, turned round, and, there being only a few stragglers left, the Duke and his companions shook hands with me, and thanked me; and, putting their horses into a trot, reached Apsley House without further annoyance."

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:—

"East India House, November 8th.

Sir,

I have laid before the Court of Directors of the East India Company your letter of the 25th October, on the subject of communication by means of steam vessels between England and India, by the Mediterranean and the Red Sea; and, in reply, I am commanded to inform you that the Court, after a long and careful consideration of the subject, have been convinced that no advantage commensurate with the expense, as far as past experiments have shown, can arise from the establishment of steam packets on that line."

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—

"Nor were these merely empty denunciations. The house and the barn-yard of the tithepayer were reduced to ashes; his cattle were houghed, or scattered all over the country; or, as happened in the County of Carlow, hunted over precipices. There was no mode of destroying property which ingenuity could invent, or reckless daring perpetrate, but was called into exercise. Scarcely a week elapsed which did not announce the cold-blooded murder of a proctor, or a process server, or a constable, or of some poor countryman who had thought himself bound to obey the law, and to pay his debts.

"An archdeacon in the neighbourhood of Cashel was in treaty with his parishioners for a commutation of his tithes. They could not agree on the yearly sum which he ought to receive. They surrounded him in sight of his own house, in broad daylight, and beat his head to pieces with stones. Several persons were ploughing in the field in which he was murdered, but either would not or dared not interfere. Whoever connected himself, in any manner of way, with the collection of tithe, had not one single hour's security for his property or his life. In the beginning of February the Irish Government found it necessary to have recourse to the "Peace Preservation Act," and proclaim certain baronies in the County of Tipperary to be in a state of disturbance.

"But a proclamation imposed no check on the outrages of men who now deserved, from the openness of their attacks, the name of insurgents. In the County of Westmeath, a body of two hundred of them assaulted and attempted to disarm a sergeant's guard, and a party of police stationed within a mile of a considerable town. In the County of Donegal, they marched about in military array, armed with guns, scythes, and pikes, compelling landlords to sign obligations to reduce their rents, and to pay no (p. 127) tithe. In Kilkenny, their deeds were even still more atrocious. They not only made domiciliary visits to compel the surrender of arms, but accompanied their lawlessness with unrelenting personal violence, and they perpetrated these enormities in the open face of day. A large body divided itself into smaller detachments. The latter took different directions to search the houses of farmers and proprietors; and, when their work was finished, they again united, at the sound of their horn, to renew their labours on the following day.

"In one instance they cruelly abused a farmer and his wife, because they would not give up their daughter. They then searched the house, found the young woman, who had concealed herself, and carried her off. A farm had been standing unoccupied because, on account of some unpopularity attached to its owner, no tenant would venture to take it. A tenant at last had entered upon it; a new house was built for him. He was immediately visited by these Irish legislators, and compelled, on pain of death, to give up his farm and his house. A farmer having refused to surrender a pair of pistols to a body of these wretches, they dragged him to the hearth, raked down the fire upon his feet, and continued this torture until their object was accomplished.

"An end was put, not merely to the payment of tithe, but to the payment of rent. A tenant ejected for non-payment was sure to have his revenge. If a new tenant entered, he had only to expect that his property would be committed to the flames, or he himself shot. The terror which was thus universally propagated went far to secure immunity to the offenders. To be connected with any attempt to execute the law against murderers, incendiaries, or robbers, was itself a high crime. To betray any activity in preserving order, was to become a marked man; to become a marked man was to be made the victim of open violence or hidden assassination.

"The parties accused of the murder of a process server and a captain of police, at the end of the preceding year, were brought to trial at the Kilkenny Assizes in March. But, after the assizes began, the Attorney-General found it necessary to delay the trials. He stated that there was such an extensive combination throughout the country to resist the payment of tithes, and to protect all (p. 128) who might be implicated, that the ends of justice could not be attained. A juror had objected to serve on the ground that, if he gave a verdict 'against the people,' his life and property would be in danger. The witnesses, too, were either under the same intimidation, or were, themselves, members of the illegal combinations....

"The Government at length seemed to think it time to try whether the law could not reach the tumultuary assemblies of the anti-tithe men and the ringleaders who collected them. The Vice-Lieutenant of the county of Kilkenny was dismissed from his office. A circular was addressed to the magistracy by the Irish Government, directing them to disperse all meetings collected in such numbers as to produce alarm and endanger the public peace, or distinguished by banners, inscriptions, or emblems which tended to disturbance, or throw contumely on the law. O'Connell denounced this circular as illegal, and expressed his hope that a reformed Parliament would not hesitate to receive an impeachment of the Irish Government founded upon it; but still he gave his advice that it should be obeyed. In consequence of these instructions, various large meetings were dispersed by the military, headed by a magistrate; but, where the meeting was strictly parochial, and quietly gone about, no opposition was offered to their petitioning against tithe and church cess.

"At the same time, a number of those persons of the better class, who had played the principal part at meetings where a combined scheme of disobedience was preached up, were arrested and held to bail, on a charge of misdemeanour. Among them were two of O'Connell's familiars, the president and vice-president of the Trades' Political Union. The Grand Jury found true bills against them, on the 4th of August, for having conspired, 'unlawfully,' to oppose and resist the payment of tithes, and to frustrate the remedies provided by law for the recovery of tithes, and for soliciting and conspiring to procure the King's subjects to hold no intercourse with any persons who should pay tithes.

"Following the example of O'Connell, when he was in a similar predicament, they set their wits to work to gain time. Costello took advantage of his legal privilege, to traverse to the next Commission; the others pleaded in abatement, that some of the Grand Jurors who had found the bills, were not seised of (p. 129) freeholds in the County of Dublin. A number of arrests took place, at the same time, in the county of Tipperary. Among the persons held to bail was Lord Galway, who had filled the chair at an anti-tithe meeting held in the neighbourhood of Clonmel....

"Before the end of the year they were brought to trial, and the majority of them, after a few convictions had taken place, pleaded guilty to the indictments. They pleaded guilty, even by the advice of O'Connell himself, their great leader in politics and law, under whose immediate patronage the holding of these meetings, and the denunciations which they thundered forth, had been conducted. Two of his most noisy retainers, the president and vice-president of the Trades' Political Union, were convicted at Dublin, and sentenced to six months' imprisonment. Their defence was that, in the course they had taken regarding tithes, they were only following the example of ministers and of the people of England, in regard to rotten boroughs, and they thought they had been aiding the Ministry in their efforts to abolish tithes. A number of similar convictions took place in the counties of Cork and Tipperary. The punishments inflicted were fines and imprisonment. The criminals were looked upon as martyrs, and the penalties which they were suffering were set down as another unpardonable injury committed against Ireland, by the English Government and Protestant Church."

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—

"Samuel Downe called in and examined.

Where do you live?—At Hunslet Carr, near Leeds.

What age are you?—Twenty-nine.

Have you been long acquainted with factories?—From my youth.

At what time did you begin to work at one?—At about ten years of age.

In whose mill did you work?—In Mr. Martin's, at Shrewsbury.

What were the customary hours of labour in the mill: state, first, what were the hours when they were brisk?—When they were brisk we used generally to begin at five o'clock in the morning, and they ran on till eight at night; sometimes half-past five to eight, and sometimes nine.

What time had you allowed for meals and refreshment?—The engine never stopped, except forty minutes at dinner time.

(p. 133) Were these long hours found to be very fatiguing?—Yes.

What means were taken to keep the children awake and vigilant, especially at the termination of such a day's labour as you have described?—There was generally a blow, or a box, or a tap with a strap, or sometimes with a hand.

Was very considerable severity used in that mill when you were there?—Yes.

Have you yourself been subjected to it?—Yes.

Strapped?—Yes, I was strapped most severely, till I could not bear to sit down on a chair without pillows, and I was forced to lie upon my face in the night-time, at one time; and through that I left. I was strapped both on my own legs, and then I was put on a man's back, and then strapped, and buckled with two straps to an iron pillar, and flogged, and all by one overlooker; after that, he took a piece of tow, and twisted it in the shape of a cord, put it in my mouth, and tied it behind my head.

He gagged you?—Yes; and then he ordered me to run round a part of the machinery where he was overlooker, and he stood at one end, and every time I came there, he struck me with a stick, which I believe was an ash plant, and which he generally carried in his hand; and sometimes he hit me, and sometimes he did not; and one of the men in the room came and begged me off, and that he would let me go, and not beat me any more; and, consequently, he did.

You have been beaten with extraordinary severity?—Yes; I was so beaten that I had not power to cry at all, or hardly to speak, at one time.

What age were you at that time?—Between ten and eleven.

What had you done?—I believe that in the machinery I did not like the part he put me to, because I had never been in a mill where there was any machinery before in my life, and it was winter time, and we worked by gas-light, and I could not catch the revolutions of the machinery to take the tow out of the hackles. I desired him to remove me to another part, which he did for some part of the day, and then sent me back to that which we call doffing the hackles.

You say that you were so beat that you could not even cry?—I cannot assign any other reason for it; it was not because I had not sufficient punishment: I did my endeavours. When he had (p. 134) used some mode of language which gave me to understand that he wanted me to cry when he had flogged me on the man's back, I remember he repeated a verse about devils trembling, and said, 'But this hardened wretch will not shed a tear.' He was a member of a religious society, and I suppose that was the reason that made him use those words.

Was he discharged from that society?—Yes, I believe he was; my grandmother went to the class, it was held in the chapel, and he was discharged from it.

Were young women as well as young men beaten?—Yes, I never saw any distinction between boys and girls."

"Eliza Marshall called in and examined.

Where did you get work first?—At Mr. Marshall's in Water Lane.

Was that a flax mill?—Yes.

How happened you to leave that mill?—It was so dusty: it stuffed me so much that I could scarcely speak.

Did it affect your health?—Yes, I should not have lived long if I had not left.

Where did you next go to?—To Mr. Warburton's in Meadow Lane.

What business is Mr. Warburton?—A worsted spinner.

What were your hours of work?—When first I went to the mill we worked from six in the morning till seven in the evening.

What time had you allowed for dinner?—When first I went we had an hour, but we did not keep that long; we removed to Lady Lane, and then we had but half an hour.

What time had you for breakfast and drinking at Mr. Marshall's?—A quarter of an hour for breakfast, I believe, and a quarter of an hour at tea, I think; but it is so long since that I cannot recollect particularly.

When you removed to Lady Lane, how long were you required to work?—After a little time, in Lady Lane, we began at five in the morning, and worked till nine at night.

Did they allow you more time for dinner there?—No; we had half an hour for dinner then, and none for breakfast or tea.

How did you get your breakfast and drinking?—We got some little of it, and then went on with our work.

(p. 135) How old were you when you went to Mr. Warburton's—Nine years old.

Do you think you were always allowed your whole time at dinner?—No; sometimes it was twenty minutes only; and sometimes the engine went on before we could even get our dinner.

Were they punctual in allowing you to leave at night, or did they get any time out of you then?—They used to get many a half hour out of us at night.

Are you sure of that?—I am sure of it.

Were you not very much fatigued with that length of labour?—Yes.

Did they beat you?—When I was less, they used to do it often.

Did you not think that treatment very cruel?—I have cried many an hour in the factory.

You were exceedingly fatigued at night, were you not?—Yes; I could scarcely get home.

Had you to be carried home?—Yes, to be trailed home.

How were you waked in the morning?—The bell in Mill Street rang at half-past five, and we got up by that.

That was not a pleasant sound to you?—No, it was not.

Was the fatigue gone off in the morning?—No, I was worse in the morning.

Did this begin to affect your limbs?—Yes; when we worked over hours, I was worse by a great deal. I had stuff to rub my knees, and I used to rub my joints a quarter of an hour, and sometimes an hour or two.

Were you straight before that?—Yes, I was straight before that; my master knows that well enough; and when I have asked for my wages he said I could not run about as I had been used to do.

Did he drop your wages in consequence?—No; but he would not raise my wages, as I hoped he would. I asked, 'Could I not mind my work?' and he said, 'Yes, but not so quick.'

Are you crooked now?—Yes, I have an iron on my right leg; my knee is contracted.

Was it not great misery for you to do your work?—Yes, it was.

You could hardly get up to your bed of a-night, sometimes, (p. 136) could you?—To speak the truth, my sister has carried me up many a time; she is bigger than I am. I have gone on my hands and knees many a time.

Have you been to the Leeds infirmary, to have, if possible, your limbs restored?—Yes; I was nearly twelve months an outpatient, and I rubbed my joints, but it did no good; and, last summer, I went to the Relief, and that did me no good, and I was obliged to have a machine; and this last winter, I have been in the infirmary six weeks.

They have put irons on your legs?—Yes; they cost £3.

Have any of the surgeons at the infirmary told you by what your deformity was occasioned?—Yes, one of them said it was by standing. The marrow is dried out of the bone, so that there is no natural strength in it.

You were quite straight till you had to labour so long at those mills?—Yes; I was as straight as any one.

You kept at your work as long as you possibly could, with a wish to assist in keeping your parent?—Yes; I had a step-father, and he was not willing to keep me, and I went as long as I could; at last I cried and used to fall back in bed when they called me, so that they could not find it in their hearts to send me.

State whether, when your mill has been shown, and when people have come to look at it, there has not been a great deal of preparation before it has been seen by a stranger?—Yes, there has.

Has there been a great deal done to make it appear clean and nice, and the children tidy?—Yes, a great deal.

Have any other mills been prepared for people coming to them, to your knowledge?—We live in Leeds, at the Bank, nearly opposite Holforth's silk mill; there was a Parliament gentleman going there on the Saturday, and the children kept on till 12 o'clock on the Friday night, and then they had an hour given them on the morning of Saturday to go and dress themselves.

When was this?—I can't tell rightly; two or three weeks since, as nearly as I can recollect.

Did the children come in their Sunday clothes then?—Yes.

Were all the children there?—Yes, for anything I know.

Were any of those who were ill-looking or unwell kept away?—There were some of them sent home.

(p. 137) That were not to return?—Yes.

What were they sent home for?—I do not know; but there was a gentleman going there.

Were they sent home because they did not appear to be in good health?—Yes, that was the purpose, I believe.

You saw those persons, did you?—Yes.

Did you not think it very wrong for people, who wish to show the condition in which children are to make those sort of preparations previously?—Yes; it was to deceive the gentleman."

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—

"In the reign of George IV. a new star rose upon the horizon, in the person of Mr. William Crockford; and the old-fashioned games of macao and lansquenet gave place to the all-devouring thirst for the game of hazard. Crockey, when still a young man, had relinquished the peaceful trade of a fishmonger for a share in a "hell," where with his partner Gye he managed to win, after a sitting of twenty-four hours, the enormous sum of £100,000 from Lords Thanet and Granville, Mr. Ball Hughes, and two other gentlemen whose names I do not remember. With this capital, added to his former gains, he built the well-known palace in St. James's Street, where a club was established and play organized on a scale of magnificence and liberality hitherto unknown in Europe.

"One may safely say, without exaggeration, that Crockford won the whole of the ready money of the then existing generation. As is often the case at Lord's Cricket Ground, the great match of the gentlemen of England against the professional players was won by the latter. It was a very hollow thing; and, in a few years, £1,200,000 were swept away by the fortunate fishmonger. He did not, however, die worth more than a sixth part of this vast sum;[12] the difference being swallowed up in various unlucky speculations.

"No one can describe the splendour and excitement of the early days of Crockey. A supper of the most exquisite kind, prepared by the famous Ude, and accompanied by the best wines in the world, together with every luxury of the season, was furnished (p. 139) gratis. The members of the club included all the celebrities of England, from the Duke of Wellington to the youngest Ensign of the Guards; and, at the gay and festive board, which was constantly replenished from midnight to early dawn, the most brilliant sallies of wit, the most agreeable conversation, the most interesting anecdotes, interspersed with grave political discussions and acute logical reasoning on every conceivable subject, proceeded from the soldiers, scholars, statesmen, poets, and men of pleasure, who, when 'the House was up,' and balls and parties at an end, delighted to finish their evening with a little supper and a good deal of hazard at old Crockey's. The tone of the club was excellent. A most gentlemanly feeling prevailed, and none of the rudeness, familiarity, and ill-breeding, which disgrace some of the minor clubs of the present day, would have been tolerated for a moment.

"The great foreign diplomatists, Prince Talleyrand, Count Pozzo di Borgo, General Alava, the Duke Palmella, Prince Esterhazy, the French, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Austrian ambassadors, and all persons of distinction and eminence who arrived in England, belonged to Crockford's as a matter of course; but many rued the day when they became members of that fascinating but dangerous coterie. The great Duke himself, rather a friend of the dandies, did not disdain to appear now and then at this charming club; whilst the late Lord Raglan, Lord Anglesey, Sir Hussey Vivian, and many more of our Peninsula and Waterloo heroes were constant visitors. The two great novelists of the day, who have since become great statesmen, D'Israeli and Bulwer Lytton, displayed at that brilliant supper table, the one his sable, the other his auburn curls; there, Horace Twiss made proof of an appetite, and Edward Montague of a thirst, which astonished all beholders; whilst the bitter jests of Sir Joseph Copley, Colonel Armstrong, and John Wilson Croker, and the brilliant wit of Alvanley, were the delight of all present, and their bons mots were, the next day, retailed all over England.

"In the play room might be heard the clear, ringing voice of that agreeable reprobate, Tom Duncombe, as he cheerfully called, "Seven," and the powerful hand of the vigorous Sefton, in throwing for a ten. There might be noted the scientific dribbling of a four by "King" Allen, the tremendous backing of nines and fives by Ball Hughes and Auriol, the enormous stakes played for by (p. 140) Lords Lichfield and Chesterfield, George Payne, Sir St. Vincent Cotton, D'Orsay and George Anson, and, above all, the gentlemanly bearing and unmoved demeanour, under losses or gains, of all the men of that generation.

"The old fishmonger himself, seated snug and sly at his desk in the corner of the room, watchful as the dragon that guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides, would only give credit to sure and approved signatures. Who that ever entered that dangerous little room can ever forget the large green table, with the croupiers, Page, Parking, and Bacon, with their suave manners, sleek appearance, stiff white neck cloths, and the almost miraculous quickness and dexterity with which they swept away the money of the unfortunate punters when the fatal cry of, 'Deuce ace,' 'Aces,' or 'Sixes out,' was heard in answer to the caster's bold cry of 'Seven,' or 'Nine,' or 'Five's the main.'

"O noctes cænæque deum! But the brightest medal has its reverse, and after all the cost and gaiety and excitement of the night, how disagreeable the waking up, and how very unpleasant the sight of the little card, with its numerous figures marked down on the debtor side in the fine bold hand of Mr. Page. Alas, poor Crockey's! shorn of its former glory, has become a sort of refuge for the destitute, a cheap dining-house.[13] How are the mighty fallen! Irish buckeens, spring captains, 'welchers' from Newmarket, and suspicious looking foreigners, may be seen swaggering after dinner through the marble halls and up that gorgeous staircase, where once the chivalry of England loved to congregate; and those who remember Crockford's in all its glory cast as they pass a look of unavailing regret at its dingy walls, with many a sigh to the memory of the pleasant days they passed there, and the gay companions and noble gentlemen who have long since gone to their last home."

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:—

"The Hells in the Quadrant.

"Those seats of vice (the gaming-houses) which, for some time past, have existed in the Quadrant, appear to be done up, as, since Saturday, not one of them has been opened. Since the five persons have been apprehended, the visitors have been extremely scarce; nor was their confidence restored, even by the proprietors' having the chain up at the street door, coupled with a fellow's being employed at each of the hells to patrol before the different establishments, for the purpose of giving the requisite information as to who sought admission into those dens of destruction. Although a very active search has been made for the purpose of ascertaining what has become of Daly, the clerk of the Athenæum Club-house, who left that establishment on the 8th instant, no trace had been found of him—one of the many lamentable instances of loss of character and ruin which overtake those who suffer themselves to be lured into those houses. Daly, who enjoyed the confidence of the whole of the members, was suddenly missed on the above day. On looking over his papers, a diary was found, from which it appeared that he had lost large sums of money at No. 60, and as it has since been ascertained he was there on the previous day, it is supposed that he lost 24 £5 notes at play which belonged to his employers. Upon this discovery being made, some gentlemen of the Athenæum waited on the parish officers, to ascertain whether they could put a stop to the gaming-houses. It was, however, found that it could not be done, unless some person would come forward and identify those at play; a relation of Daly accordingly went to the house, and supplied the necessary proof. It was at this establishment, a few months since, the foreigners who had been fleeced made an attempt to rob the bank; and, shortly after that, placards were posted on the walls in the neighbourhood of the Quadrant, cautioning persons from going into any of the hells, as drugged wine was invariably given to those who were going to play."

(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—

"Three prisoners, out of six, answered to the indictment of keeping and maintaining a common gaming-house, and pleaded guilty. The prosecuting counsel, Mr. Clarkson, said that the house in question was situate No. 54, Regent's Circus, six doors from the house which was lately prosecuted. He should have been able to prove that on February the 7th, 9th, 12th, and 14th last, the games of rouge et noir and roulette were played for sums varying from one sovereign to one shilling. He should have also proved that on some one or on all those occasions the defendants acted in the capacities of doorkeeper, banker, and waiter. He (Mr. Clarkson) was informed by the officers of St. James's parish that at the last Sessions there were twenty-seven houses of this description situate therein, and out of that number only two had been closed in the interval, but three new ones had been opened, so that the number had been increased rather than otherwise.

"Mr. Philips, for the defence, said that those houses had nothing to do with the present case. He would advise the parish officers to go to Crockford's, not far distant from the house in question, where they would find lords and peers of the realm at play.

"The bench sentenced two of the prisoners to three months, and one to fourteen days imprisonment in the House of Correction, whilst the bail of one who did not appear was estreated."

## (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—

"Marylebone Office.

"Yesterday morning, just as the business had commenced, a case of trivial importance was called on, when at the moment the writer came into the Justice Room, and was approaching the desk usually appropriated for reporters, which had been previously occupied by two policemen, who, knowing the arduous duties which those connected with the press had to perform, immediately gave way, when the following colloquy ensued—

"Mr. Rawlinson (to the policeman): Why do you give way to that man—you have a better right to be here than he has? Then, extending his voice, he said to the reporter, I wish you would not come here so often, sir.

"Reporter: 'I believe, sir, that police offices are, or at least ought to be, open to the public; and, as I am employed by the Times newspaper to report the proceedings at this office, I humbly submit that I have as much right to stand here for the information of the public in general as any policeman who may be a witness in the case before you.'

"Mr. Rawlinson: The office is too full of reporters; I beg, sir, that you will give way to the witness.

"Reporter: Most certainly, sir; but, with all due deference, I beg to submit that in a public office reporters are entitled to admission.

"Mr. Rawlinson (angrily): Perhaps I may let you know to the contrary.

"Here the conversation dropped."

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:—

"Political Meeting and Murder.

"For some days placards had been posted up, addressed to the members of the political unions, calling a public meeting, to be held in Calthorpe Street, Coldbath Fields, preparatory to forming a National Convention. A proclamation had been issued from the Home Office, prohibiting the meeting as being illegal. It was held, nevertheless, on the 13th. The hour appointed for the meeting was two o'clock, but the populace had been assembling for three hours previously. Shortly after twelve o'clock strong detachments of the metropolitan police marched into the neighbourhood, and took up their quarters in the riding school of the London Volunteers, and the several livery stables in the vicinity. Colonel Rowan and Mr. Mayne, the two Commissioners, had previously arrived, and were accommodated at a house in the neighbourhood, attended by two clerks. A magistrate of Hatton Garden office was stationed in the House of Correction, as were also other magistrates, and a strong body of the police force. Two officers of the 1st Regiment of Life Guards were on the spot, (p. 148) in plain clothes, keeping up a constant communication with their regiment, a detachment of which was under arms, and ready at a moment's notice.

"Matters remained in this state till near two o'clock, by which time the number of people had greatly increased, and there were between three thousand and four thousand present. During this time the committee, consisting of six individuals, were holding their council at the Union public-house, Bagnigge Wells, and some discussion arose between them, as to which of them should ascend the hustings first. A young man named James Lee undertook to open the proceedings by proposing a person to fill the chair. Shortly before three o'clock a caravan, which had been engaged for the purpose, took its station. Lee jumped into it, followed by a person named Mee, and several others. Lee waved his hat several times, which was answered by the shouts of the assembly. The owner of the van, however, did not like the appearance of things, and instantly drove off, the committee jumping out of the caravan. Lee was then carried on the shoulders of some of the mob, to the railings, and proposed that Mr. Mee should take the chair, which, being seconded, Mr. Mee stood up and addressed the meeting, calling upon those present to beware of those hirelings of the Government who were paid to induce them to commit a breach of the peace. The Union, who had been anxiously expected all the morning, at this moment made their appearance, and the acclamations of the populace were deafening. The Union consisted of about a hundred and fifty persons, and the banners carried were, 'Liberty or death,' with a skull and cross-bones on a black ground, with a red border; 'Holy Alliance of the Working Classes;' 'Equal Rights and Equal Justice;' a Tricoloured flag; the republican flag of America; and a pole with the cap of Liberty.

"They had scarcely got upon the ground, before a detachment of the A division (supported by some other divisions) marched into Calthorpe Street with the greatest order and precision. Their promptitude and formidable appearance seemed to make a momentary impression on the mob, but a person, pointing to the banner of 'Liberty or death,' shouted, 'Men, be firm!' This was sufficient to rouse their feelings; they called out, 'Down with them; Liberty or death!' and appeared determined to resist to (p. 149) the utmost. 'Go on, go on!' resounded from all sides to the speaker.

"The division of police had halted in the middle of the street, and received renewed orders to act calmly and with forbearance. They then walked forward, with their staves in their hands, clearing their way through the observers who had been attracted to the spot, and pressed forward directly to the man who still continued to address the mob. The police were instantly attacked by the mob. The conflict was but of a minute's duration, and the sound of the blows, and the shrieks of the women who had obtruded themselves into danger were loud. When a clearance was effected, at least twenty men were prostrate on the ground, with blood streaming from their heads. Sergeant Harrison, of the D division, was the first who seized a banner, but received a violent blow on the arm. Robert Cully, C 95, and his brother, made up to another, when Cully received a wound in the abdomen from a stilletto, and instantly expired. Sergeant Brooks was also wounded, besides several others who received blows. The people rallied in the open space by the prison, and made a vigorous attack on the police, which was instantly and effectually repelled, though not till they had attempted to rescue the banner of 'Liberty or death.' The police were therefore formed into lines, extending across the different streets, for a quarter of a mile round the place, and every party of three or four persons was instantly ordered to 'Move on.' In Gray's Inn Lane, on the N division clearing the place, one man took a stone to fling at the policeman who was ordering him off, but his arm was arrested by another policeman. A united shout of 'Stone the —— ——!' arose, and there was an immediate rush of the populace into the middle of the road, where there were fresh laid granite stones; but a movement of the whole division, and the capture of the ringleaders, arrested the further progress of the mob. By four o'clock, everything was tranquil, and a number of prisoners had been arrested.

"An inquest was held on the body of Cully, the policeman who had been stabbed. From the state of political feeling, the jury seemed determined to justify murder on the ground that the meeting was legal, or, if illegal, had not been legally dispersed. The inquest was continued for several days, and finally the jury, (p. 150) after retiring for nearly three hours, returned the following verdict: 'We find a verdict of justifiable homicide on these grounds: That no Riot Act was read, nor any proclamation advising the people to disperse; that the Government did not take the proper precautions to prevent the meeting from assembling; and that the conduct of the police was ferocious, brutal, and unprovoked by the people; and we moreover express our anxious hope that the Government will, in future, take better precautions to prevent the occurrence of such disgraceful transactions in this metropolis.'

"Coroner: Your verdict only traduces the police and the Government. You are not borne out by the evidence in justifying the murder of this man. Were the people innocent who used the murderous weapons, stilettos, bludgeons, and lances, such as you have seen?

"Foreman: We state in our verdict on what grounds we justify the homicide. We do not traduce the police, nor the Government. We trust that our verdict will prevent the negligence and misconduct that has caused the arms and heads of his Majesty's peaceable subjects to be broken.

"Coroner: Do you call them peaceable subjects?

"Foreman: It has been proved that they are peaceable. We will say no more, sir; record our verdict or dismiss us. We have told you, sir, we will not alter a letter. In regard to our oath, and our duty to our God, our country, and our King, we can give no other verdict.

"After a consultation of some length, the coroner directed the verdict, as originally put in, to be entered on the record. The depositions, inquisition, and record were then completed and signed.

"The coroner said, 'Gentlemen, I consider your verdict disgraceful to you; but I thank you for your great attention to the case.'

"The foreman, bowing, said, 'We thank you, sir.'

"Hereupon, a number of persons in the room, which was crowded to excess, exclaimed, 'Bravo, jurors; you have done your duty nobly, the country is indebted to you;' which was followed by vociferous cheering in the room, re-echoed with prodigious vehemence by the crowd outside. As the jury withdrew, numbers (p. 151) of persons pressed forward and shook each of them eagerly by the hand. In the streets, as they passed, they were cheered by name, while the police were hooted.

"On May 29th, the Solicitor-General moved the Court of King's Bench for a writ of Certiorari to remove the inquisition into that court, for the purpose of having the verdict quashed. The verdict, he said, was bad in point of law. The conclusion at which the jury had arrived was not only unwarranted by the facts given in evidence, but directly contrary to those facts."

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—

"Union Hall.

"Yesterday, in the course of examination of two boys, who were brought from Camberwell, before Mr. Chambers, for gambling on Sunday, some disclosures of importance respecting the extent to which the suspected adulteration of tea is carried on in this metropolis were made.

"In the possession of one of the juvenile defendants a policeman found two shillings upon taking him into custody, and when the boy was asked by the magistrate where he got that money, he immediately replied, 'Not by gambling, your Worship, but by picking tea leaves.'

"Mr. Chambers (smiling): The tea plant does not happen to grow in this country, my lad; therefore you are adding a falsehood to the offence for which you were brought here, and that offence is always sure to lead to crimes of more magnitude.

"The defendant still persisted in the truth of his assertion, relative to the picking of tea leaves; and when asked to explain the manner in which he did it, he replied, 'Why, your Worship, (p. 152) I am employed by a cowkeeper at Camberwell, who sends me into the fields to gather sloe leaves and black and white thorn leaves, and he pays me so much a pound for all I picks. I works hard, and sometimes earns a good bit of money at the job.'

"Mr. Chambers inquired what the cowkeeper wanted with sloe and black and white thorn leaves; it could not be for the use of his cows.

"Inspector Walters, of the P division, stated that he should be enabled to throw some light upon the subject of what the boy termed 'picking tea leaves.' The inspector then said that for the last month a number of poor persons, of both sexes, were observed in the fields adjacent to Camberwell, picking leaves out of the hedges. To such an extent, in fact, had this picking system lately been carried, in and about that neighbourhood, that many of the hedgerows were completely divested of their foliage. He had questioned some of the people as to the purposes for which the leaves were intended, and he had the same reply from all, namely, that they were employed by a cowkeeper, who gave them a penny a pound for sloe and black thorn leaves, and half that sum for white thorn leaves. One man told him that he picked between 50 and 60 lbs. a day, and always had a sure market for selling them to the cowkeeper. On a recent occasion a gentleman resident in Camberwell complained that the hedge surrounding one of his fields had been entirely stripped of its leaves, but he objected to give any person into custody for the damage committed on his property, but warned them not to be seen there again. The inspector added that the circumstance had created some surprise at Camberwell, and he had instituted an inquiry into the matter, in the course of which he ascertained that the statement made to him by the persons found picking the leaves was perfectly correct as to the party whom they supplied. The next step was to discover how the cowkeeper disposed of the leaves, and this was accomplished by placing persons to watch his premises, when it was found that they underwent no process while in his possession, but were sent in bags to extensive tea dealers in the city, to whose warehouses they were traced from the cowkeeper's yard in Camberwell.

"Mr. Chambers inquired what steps had been taken after tracing leaves of that description to the house of a tea dealer. It (p. 153) looked, certainly, very suspicious, for he heard reports of tea being adulterated with sloe leaves.

"The inspector said that information of the fact of such leaves as those he had described having been received at a tea warehouse was given to the Excise, and he had no doubt but they intended to act forthwith upon it."

## (p. 154) CHAPTER XV.
1833.

The Queen's visit to the City — Her unpopularity — King's dislike of the Duchess of Kent — Hungerford Market opened — Death and funeral of Wilberforce — Abolition of slavery — Synopsis of Act — A Women's rowing match — List of periodicals and their circulation — Return of Captain Ross — State of Ireland — Passing of "Coercion Bill," etc.

The poor Queen was still very unpopular, as we read in the Times of June 15th—

"We are assured by a gentleman who followed the royal procession on Thursday (June 13th), both in the approach to the Cathedral and in the subsequent visit to the Mansion House, that her Majesty's reception in the City was by no means so favourable as was represented. In passing up Ludgate Hill the groans and hisses of the multitude were extremely violent, so as quite to overpower the manifestations of respect which proceeded in that place from a very small portion of the spectators. After the termination of the service at St. Paul's, the royal carriage was attended, comparatively, by a very small number of the populace, and among these a few hisses were occasionally heard, with also a few indications of a more loyal nature; but the demeanour of a far greater portion of the spectators was cold and indifferent. Some hisses were heard from the populace at the time her Majesty was ascending the steps at the Mansion House. When the cortége drove off after the visit to the Lord Mayor, it was done with so much rapidity as to be soon out of sight, and almost elude the observation of the populace."

There was also considerable friction, in the royal (p. 155) circle itself. The King did not like the Duchess of Kent, and did not scruple to show his dislike openly in somewhat petty ways. Hear what Greville says—

"July 4th.—At Court yesterday, and Council for a foolish business. The King has been (not unnaturally) disgusted with the Duchess of Kent's progress with her daughter through the kingdom, and, amongst the rest, with her sailings at the Isle of Wight, and the continual popping in the shape of salutes to her Royal Highness. He did not choose that this latter practice should go on, and he signified his pleasure to Sir James Graham and Lord Hill, for salutes are matters of general order, both to army and navy. They (and Lord Grey) thought it better to make no order on the subject, and they opened a negotiation with the Duchess of Kent, to induce her, of her own account, to waive the salutes, and when she went to the Isle of Wight to send word that, as she was sailing about for her amusement, she had rather they did not salute her whenever she appeared. The negotiation failed, for the Duchess insisted on her right to be saluted, and would not give it up. Kemp told me he had heard that Conroy (who is a ridiculous fellow, a compound of 'Great Hussy' and the Chamberlain of the Princess of Navarre[14]) had said, 'that, as Her Royal Highness's confidential adviser, he could not recommend her to give way on this point.' As she declined to accede to the proposals, nothing remained but to alter the regulations, and, accordingly, yesterday, by an Order in Council, the King changed them, and from this time the Royal Standard is only to be saluted when the King or Queen is on board."

Among the odds and ends of news in this year was the opening of Hungerford Market, on July 2nd, amidst great festivity, which included a balloon ascent, and a ball and fireworks at night. It was situated on the site now occupied by the Charing Cross Station, and was demolished in 1862.

(p. 156) On the 29th of July died William Wilberforce, the distinguished philanthropist, memorable especially for his exertions in the abolition of slavery. He was buried on August 4th, in Westminster Abbey, the pall-bearers being the Lord Chancellor, the Speaker of the House of Commons, Lord Bexley, the Marquis of Westminster, the Right Hon. Charles Grant, Sir Robert Inglis, Mr. W. Smith, and His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester. Among the mourners were the peers, at the head of whom were the Dukes of Sussex and Wellington, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and most of the bishops, and, lastly, the members of the House of Commons.

It seems hard that he was denied the pleasure of seeing that come to pass, the forwarding of which had occupied so great a part of his life, viz. the abolition of slavery. In 1807 the importation of slaves into our colonies was decreed; but men's minds were exercised as to the lawfulness of keeping slaves at all, and an Anti-Slavery Society was established in 1823, the principal members of which were Wilberforce, Buxton, Zachary Macaulay, Lord Suffield, and Dr. Lushington, and in that year a movement was made in Parliament in furtherance of this object, but for some years the cause made little progress, until 1830, when it was again taken up. But, in 1833, the Government took it seriously in hand, and the abolition of slavery was carried with comparatively little opposition. True, Mr. W. E. Gladstone, in a debate thereon, on June 3rd, defended his father as a slave owner—he (p. 157) having an estate at Demerara, called Vreeden's Hoop—but he had a bad cause to back up, and his speech was practically nullified by Lord Howick's reply.

The opponents of the Bill talked of the helplessness of the negroes, who had always had everything found them, and prophesied that they would starve; indeed, an anonymous artist produced the accompanying picture of "An Emancipated Negro," who is reduced to catching butterflies for food.

The Bill passed the House of Commons on August 7th, and received the Royal Assent on August 28th. It is 3 and 4 Gul. IV. c. 73, and is entitled "An Act (p. 158) for the Abolition of Slavery throughout the British Colonies; for promoting the industry of the manumitted slaves; and for compensating the persons hitherto entitled to the services of such slaves." It is a long Act, but the following is a synopsis.

All children under six years of age, or born after August 1st, 1834, are declared free: all registered slaves above six years become, from the same date, apprenticed labourers, divided into two principal classes, prædial, or those engaged in agriculture, and the non-prædial; the apprenticeships of the former to expire August 1, 1838; of the latter August 1, 1840. The hours of the prædial apprentices not to exceed forty-five in any one week, and for which they were to be paid either by being boarded and lodged or by receiving a sum of money weekly. By this transition into the apprentice state, the slave immediately entered into the chief immunities of a free man; he could not be arbitrarily punished by his master, and became eligible to give evidence in criminal and civil courts, to serve on juries and in the militia. One of the chief difficulties to settle, was in determining the compensation to the owners of slaves for the loss of their compulsory services. A very small party in the Commons was in favour of the immediate and entire emancipation of the negroes, and that without any compensation whatever; the ministers at first proposed advancing a loan of £15,000,000 to the West India proprietors; subsequently this loan was transmuted into a gift of (p. 159) £20,000,000, by which liberal donation, Mr. Secretary Stanley said the whole plan would ensure the cordial co-operation of the planters and colonial legislatures. On this basis it was settled, and an end put to a question which had formed almost the exclusive subject of public interest and agitation by the religious portion of the community during the last half century.

To change from grave to gay. The "New Woman" was already beginning to assert masculine functions, though hardly in such an æsthetic manner as to-day. In 1787 Rowlandson portrayed a cricket match played in that year by women, at Ball's Pond, and several satirical prints immortalize the lady cricketer; but it was reserved for the Times of September 4, 1833, to chronicle—

"A Rowing Match among Women.—The proposed wager among women came off yesterday. It was said that the contest was for a purse of sovereigns given by the ladies and gentlemen of Lambeth; but it is believed the proprietor of a public-house near Lambeth Palace was the donor. The females were the wives and daughters of fishermen. The canaille mustered in shoals, and never did we see a rowing match so attended. The purlieus of Westminster and St. George's Fields had poured forth their population, and Billingsgate had supplied its oratory. To attempt to describe the rowing, or to give the names of Sal this, or Mary that, as they were bawled from the shore in a tone of encouragement, would be a gross insult to the understanding of our readers; but the lady who wore a blue bow in her cap as large as a sunflower, and who had her garments tied round her legs with a rope, had the distinguished honour of being declared the victor."

We are used to hear each newspaper vieing with another as to its circulation, but the following list is (p. 160) authentic, as every newspaper had to be stamped by the Inland Revenue, and the numbers as officially declared must needs be correct. It also supplies an authentic list of the ephemeral publications of the day. It covers from January 1, 1832, to June 30, 1833.

Period of Publication. | Title of Newpaper. | Number of Stamps.
Daily | The Times | } | 5,727,987 |
Thrice a week | Evening Mail
Daily | Morning Herald | } | 3,949,991 |
Thrice a week | English Chronicle
Daily | Morning Post | 1,047,000 |
" | Morning Chronicle | } | 2,682,297 |
Weekly | Englishman
" | Observer
" | Bell's Life in London
Daily | Morning Advertiser | 1,696,500 |
" | Guardian and Public Ledger | } | 433,218 |
" | British Traveller
Weekly | Weekly Times
" | County Chronicle | } | 213,500 |
" | County Herald
" | United Kingdom | 429,000 |
" | Mark Lane Express (commenced Jan. 3, 1832) | } | 65,710 |
" | New Farmer's Journal (commenced Feb. 11, 1833)
" | Farmer's Journal (discontinued July 16, 1832) | 46,975 |
" | British Liberator (commenced January 13, 1833) | 9,550 |
" | Merle's Weekly Register (commenced November 19, 1832) | 16,452 |
" | Sunday Herald (commenced April 7, 1833) | 14,300 |
" | Bell's Weekly Messenger | 776,500 |
" | Bell's Weekly Dispatch | 2,330,947 |
" | Ballot | 93,000 |
" | Atlas | 247,500 |
" | Examiner | 329,645 |
" | Literary Gazette | 62,675 |
" | Court Journal |  | 185,875 |
" | Naval and Military Gazette (commenced February 9, 1833)
" | New Court Journal (commenced March 30, 1833; discontinued June 1) | 4,850 |
" | Cobbett's Weekly Political Register | 128,500 |
" | John Bull | 445,500 |
Twice weekly | London Gazette | 218,000 |
Weekly | Spectator | 173,283 |
(p. 161)" | Age | 519,800 |
" | News | 199,000 |
" | Satirist | 393,022 |
Daily | Albion and Star | 393,000 |
" | Standard | } | 2,328,500 |
Thrice a week | St. James's Chronicle
" | London Packet
Weekly | London Journal
Daily | True Sun | } | 559,140 |
Weekly | Weekly True Sun
Daily | Courier | 1,170,250 |
" | Globe and Traveller | 1,657,500 |
" | Sun | 1,061,000 |
Thrice a week | Record | 397,250 |
Weekly | Sunday Times | } | 643,500 |
" | Essex and Herts Mercury
" | Alfred | } | 63,709 |
" | United Service Gazette (commenced February 9, 1833)
" | Town | 86,100 |
" | Patriot (commenced February 22, 1832) | 159,000 |
" | Old England (commenced April 14, 1832) | 48,300 |
" | Christian Advocate | 113,055 |
" | Bell's New Weekly Messenger | 365,500 |
" | The Truth (commenced February 10, 1833; discontinued March 10) | 5,000 |
" | The Athenæum, only one stamped number published within the period | 10,000 |
" | Commercial Gazette | 40,600 |
" | Law Chronicle | } | 10,475 |
" | Law Gazette
" | Racing Calendar | 42,575 |
" | Banker's Calendar | 16,000 |
" | Constitution (discontinued January 15, 1832) | 1,500 |
" | World (discontinued May 23, 1832) | 16,600 |
" | Plain Dealer (commenced January 1, 1832; discontinued February 19, 1832) | 9,000 |
" | Reflector (commenced December 15, 1832; discontinued December 29, 1832) | 2,600 |
" | Mercantile Journal | 17,465 |
" | Corn Trade Circular | 5,250 |
Thrice a week | Course of Exchange | 8,010 |
" | Commercial Record | 5,700 |
Weekly | London New Price Current | 22,300 |
" | Universal Corn Reporter (commenced February 6, 1832) | 20,000 |
" | Bankrupt's and Insolvent's Weekly Gazette | 16,987 |
Monthly | London Literary Gazette | 14,250 |
Weekly | The Movement (commenced April 28, 1833; discontinued June 3) | 3,000 |
" | London Mercantile Price Current | 5,610 |
" | United Kingdom Gazette | 4,706 |

(p. 162) Captain Ross, who from May 29, 1829, had been employed in the Victory steamer on a fresh expedition to the Arctic Regions, at the expence of Sir Felix Booth, a rich distiller, arrived safely at Stromness on October 12th, on board the Isabella of Hull (formerly his own discovery ship), which picked him up in Prince Regent's Inlet on August 27th, he having finally abandoned his own ship thirteen months previously. He had a narrow escape of losing all his papers; for, after showing them at the Admiralty, he left them in a cab. Luckily, the cabman was honest, and the captain recovered them.

Parliament (the first reformed) met on January 29th, and it was not long before the more effective government of Ireland was brought on for discussion. A Bill for the suppression of disturbances in Ireland (or, as it was commonly called, "The Coercion Bill") was introduced into the House of Lords by Earl Grey, was read a first time on February 15th, and was passed there without a division on February 22nd. But it had a very warm time in the House of Commons, and it was not passed until March 29th. The Lords agreed with the amendments of the Commons, and it received the Royal Assent on April 2nd. It is 3 and 4 Gul. IV. c. 4, "An Act for the more effectual suppression of local Disturbances and dangerous Associations in Ireland." The Lord Lieutenant at once put the Act in force, with very good results. The more daring outrages diminished; for whereas (p. 163) the offences against the law, in eleven counties, were 472 in March, they were but 162 in May.

(p. 164) Two other Bills, which materially tended to the pacification of Ireland, were passed, and became law respectively on August 14th and 28th—3 and 4 Gul. IV. c. 37, "An Act to alter and amend the laws relating to the Temporalities of the Church in Ireland," and 3 and 4 Gul. IV. c. 79, "An Act to provide for the more impartial Trial of Offences in certain cases in Ireland."

The fashions of this year include two walking-dresses, one dinner, and one ball-dress, together with bonnets, a turban, a cap, and various modes of dressing the hair. (See preceding page.)

## (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—

"An Heir.

"A single gentleman, member of an English university, disgusted at some family differences, is desirous of relinquishing his connections and changing his name. The advertiser, who is a gentleman of good education, affable manners, and pleasing address, submits the proposal to the consideration of the affluent, (p. 166) who have no issue. A full explanation will be entered into, and most respectable and satisfactory references given. Apply, etc."

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

"Remarkable Submarine Discovery.

"Among the occurrences which have been transmitted by tradition to our neighbours in Gower, is the account of the wreck of a homeward-bound Spanish galleon, laden with dollars, on Rhosily Sands, near the Wormshead, shortly after the conquest of South America by the Spaniards; that the crew, without giving information of the nature of her cargo, sold the wreck for a trifle to a Mr. Thomas, of Pitton, who, not being aware of the value of his purchase, or from some other cause, took no pains for her recovery, and that she shortly became completely embedded in the sands. Nevertheless, suspicion always existed in that part of the country that she must have had on board some valuable articles; and, about twenty-six years ago, in consequence of the sand having drifted very unusually, part of the wreck, in a very decayed state, became visible, and a great quantity of dollars, with some old iron and pewter, were then dug up from some depth in the sand. The late Mr. John Beynon, of Pitton, having failed to prove by any written document the purchase of the vessel by his ancestor (the above-named Mr. Thomas), Mr. Talbot, of Penrice Castle, the lord of the manor, became entitled to the property, but he generously refused to accept it; consequently, many of the inhabitants were much enriched by this fortuitous circumstance. The spot where the vessel struck being only open at four hours ebb-tide, and the sand having returned to its old quarters, the money-hunters were obliged to desist in their attempts, and all hope was abandoned of any further booty from that source. During the late gales, however, the sand having shifted again, the spot was once more resorted to, and the recovery of a very large quantity of dollars has been the result, some bearing the date of 1631, others further back. The circumstance has created a very peculiar interest in the neighbourhood; and, as it is not likely that the present lord of the manor, C. R. Talbot, Esq., will (p. 167) deviate from the precedent of his respected father, it is to be hoped that the neighbourhood, which is very poor, will be considerably benefited by this occurrence."

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—

"On this occasion, likewise, votes rose in price as the contest advanced, and towards its conclusion a single vote was sold for £80! Nearly every freeman who came to poll was bribed. The tickets given for enabling parties to claim payment from Mr. Denison's committee amounted to two thousand; and one of the witnesses having obtained these tickets, copied from them into a poll-book, against the name of each voter, the sum which had been paid him. The following is the analysis of the list of the other candidate, Mr. Ewart's voters, with their respective prices, as drawn up by his own law agent:—

600 | freemen | received | ... | ... | £10 | and | under.
462 | " | " | between | ... | £10 | " | £20
209 | " | " | " | ... | £20 | " | £30
24 | " | " | " | ... | £30 | " | £40
7 | " | " | " | ... | £40 | " | £50
1 | " | " | ... | ... | £60 |
—— |
1303 |

"One circumstance which disgracefully distinguished the bribery practised on these two occasions, was the open, fearless, and shameless manner in which it was conducted. The respective parties (p. 168) advertised for supporters, and announced the price which they were ready to give for votes on the walls of their committee rooms. Tickets or tally-papers were openly distributed, which were as regularly paid. The ingenious conductors of the election had thus the merit of systemizing corruption—of making the sale of consciences a counting-house affair, with the proper assortment of promissory notes or poll-tickets and bags of gold, with cashiers, examiners, and controllers of account!

"Another most striking and most melancholy characteristic of the contest was not only the universality of corruption among the poorer freemen, but the height to which the tide rose among persons in better circumstances, whom, but for the levelling nature of the system and the gradual decay of the moral sense which it produces, the infamy ought not to have reached. It was mentioned by the treasurer of Mr. Ewart's committee that several 'respectable' persons received large sums of money. A retired brewer demanded £50; a captain in the militia received £35; three brothers, 'respectable men,' were paid £30 a-piece; a druggist and his father, both 'respectable men,' each received £20; and a 'respectable man,' worth £10,000, as he came early in the contest, was satisfied to pocket the paltry sum of £12!"

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—

"The announcement of the newspapers that the elevation of the Duke of York's statue was to be celebrated with military honours drew a vast number of people to Carlton Gardens and the neighbouring houses. There was, however, no military spectacle, not even a military band to while away the time during the slow process of hoisting up the statue, which did not reach the top of the column till the people had dispersed, who had spent the day in wondering what was to happen to requite them for their trouble in coming to the spot and the tedium of waiting. Nothing was to be seen but a bit of canvas fluttering in the bitter east wind, showing the place of the statue, to which it served as wrapper. The ascent was imperceptibly slow, such as (p. 169) sailors proverbially say is the progress of lawyers to heaven. The weight of the statue is said to be seven tons, and the height above thirteen feet. A woman in the crowd, according to the Globe, observed, 'The Duke of York was never so large as that.' The same criticism was made by a learned judge on the statue of Canning at Westminster, and his companion, Mr. Thesiger, agreeing that Canning was not so large, readily perfected the criticism by adding 'nor so green either.'

"The statue of the Duke of York turns his back on the town and his face to the Park. This arrangement was contrary to the judgment of Mr. Westmacott, but insisted on by the Duke of Wellington, who held it a point of propriety that the Commander-in-Chief should face the Horse Guards. His Grace also contends that it will be seen by more people from the Park below than from Waterloo Place—another curious evidence of the correctness of his observation. But this is not the Duke's first mistake as to public views. It now seems that the Duke of York is ashamed to show his face to the town, and, what to military notions is worse, he turns his back on Waterloo Place.

"On the base of the monument should be inscribed, 'He made creditors pitied!'—an effect never before produced, as the sympathies of the world generally runs with poor debtors, and creditors are only thought of and talked of as 'hard' and 'cruel.' No general in history was ever so heavily charged as the Commander-in-Chief, and yet the charges of his creditors were the only charges the general ever defeated."

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—

(p. 170) "Circular Letter and Regulations from the Grand Lodge of Ladies' Maids.

"Madam,

"By direction of the Friendly Society of Operative Ladies' Maids, I have to inform you that, to stay the ruinous effects which a destructive fashionable competition has so long been inflicting on them, they have resolved to introduce certain new regulations into their profession, which regulations they intend should commence from Monday next; and I herewith beg to enclose a copy of them—

"Regulations.

"No sister shall be allowed to work, except for herself, from the first day of May to the last day of April. No sister shall plait, brush, or dress her lady's hair, or wait upon her in sickness—except for such extra remuneration as each sister shall deem it expedient to ask. No sister shall be called before ten in the morning, nor shall any sister remain in a service where she is refused a fire in her own room, an armchair, a subscription to a circulating library, the free use of her lady's clothes, and as many followers as she may like to retain. No lady shall presume to part with her maid or to hire another without the consent of all the ladies' maids within four miles of Grosvenor Square. Nor shall any lady buy any gown, bonnet, or any article of dress that may not be made serviceable or profitable to her maid, nor shall she be allowed to retain the same in wear after the Grand United Lodge of Operative Ladies' Maids shall have declared it a lawful perquisite. No sister shall be allowed to ask leave to go out, nor shall any sister be contradicted or found fault with, neither shall she be put up with a small looking-glass, nor with a room with a northern aspect.

"As the demands here specified are of so reasonable a nature, and as, moreover, they are unquestionably calculated for the benefit of the employers as well as the employed, the Society confidently hopes that you will accede to them, and, henceforth, a mutual confidence may be sustained between ladies and their maids, and that they will, for the future, consent to lace each other's stays, and dress each other's hair.

(p. 171) "It only remains for me to add that your ladies' maids, members of this Society, will cease to answer your bell, though you may ring it ever so often, should you decline to act upon the new regulations; and, further, I think it right to apprize you that, in that case, they will think it no longer necessary to keep any family secrets with which they may have made themselves acquainted.

"I am, Madam, Your obedient, humble servant,

"Sarah Brown,
"Secretary to the Grand United Lodge
of Operative Ladies' Maids."

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—

"The Oath of the Unionists.

"I (each party here to repeat his name), being in the presence of Almighty God and this assembly, do voluntarily (p. 173) declare that I will persevere in maintaining and supporting a brotherhood known by the name of the United Operative of the Grand National Consolidated Trades' Union of Great Britain and Ireland, and I do further promise that I will, to the utmost of my power, assist them, upon all just and lawful occasions, to obtain a just remuneration for our labour; nor will I, knowingly, ever fill the situation of, or finish the work of, any brother who has left his employer in obedience to the ordinances and regulations of the Consolidated Union aforesaid; and I call the Mighty Power who made me, to witness this, my most solemn obligation, by which I bind myself, that neither hopes nor fears, rewards nor punishments, nor even the law of life itself, shall ever induce me, directly or indirectly, to give information respecting anything contained in this lodge, and that I will neither write, nor cause to be written, anything appertaining thereto upon paper, or upon anything else whatsoever, but for the purposes of the aforesaid Union: and I do further promise to keep inviolable all its rules, signs, and secrets. Neither will I ever give consent to have any of its money divided, or appropriated to any other purpose than to the uses of this lodge, and for the end of the aforesaid Consolidated Union. And may God keep me steadfast in this my most solemn obligation."

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:—

"A Suitor to Royalty.

"A good deal of talk and merriment have been created in Kensington, in consequence of the eccentricities of a gentleman, (p. 176) said to hold a rank of some importance in the army, who has fallen desperately in love with the Princess Victoria, and who, for some months past, has taken every opportunity of manifesting the ardour of his passion for her Royal Highness. From what can be gathered of this eccentric gentleman's movements, it appears that about the beginning of last spring he made some very particular inquiries of the keeper at the Mount Gate, Kensington Gardens, as to the Princess, wishing, in particular, to know the best way in which he could obtain an introduction, and whether it was most likely an interview would be granted at Kensington Palace.

"The gatekeeper referred the gentleman to the proper authorities at the palace; after which he received three cards, containing, as the gentleman said, his titles and dignity, with a request that they should be immediately forwarded to her Royal Highness the Princess Victoria. On the cards were written "The King of Rome," "The Emperor of the Austrias," and "The Grand Lama of Thibet." Several letters were sent to the palace by this tripartite potentate, who was constantly seen promenading before the palace and in the gardens, waiting to obtain the desired interview with the Princess. One day, while the gatekeepers were at dinner, he contrived to jump over the palings into the shrubbery, and there plant a laurel, to which he affixed another letter to the Princess Victoria; which, of course, when discovered, was speedily removed.

"From that time, this gentleman continued to pursue the same system of eccentricity, and yesterday morning, having made some further inquiries of the gatekeeper respecting the Princess, the gatekeeper considered it to be the most prudent course to inform Sir John Conroy of the persevering conduct of the enamoured suitor. The gatekeeper having received his instructions, proceeded to the station-house, and returned to the gardens accompanied by Inspector McManus, of the T division. The gatekeeper and the inspector then proceeded towards a bench in the garden, where the individual in question had taken a seat. The inspector told him he must take him into custody, unless he would pledge his honour to abstain, in future, from the ridiculous system of annoyance he had practised. The individual, after some demur, gave the required promises, and was allowed to (p. 177) leave the gardens, after having given a card, which contained, as was presumed, his real name and rank, which was stated to be that of a lieutenant-colonel. He was a tall, military-looking man, with an umbrella and a bunch of lavender, and apparently about forty-five years of age."

## (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.

"On July 25th, M. Eustache Ude, the celebrated French cook, appeared at Bow Street on a summons at the suit of the Marquess of Queensberry, for unlawfully disposing of certain birds called 'red game,' between the 19th of March and the 1st of August, contrary to the provisions of the Game Laws.

"Sir Roger Griesley deposed that he was a member of Crockford's Club House, and one of the managing committee of that establishment. The defendant was cook there, and on the 19th of June witness dined at the club house, and saw grouse served in the room, but did not partake of it.

"M. Ude: Vell, my dear Sare Rojer, vat is all dis to me? Certainement you must know dat I don't know vat de devil goes up into de dining-room. How de devil can I tell veder black game, or vite game, or red game go up to de dining-room? Dere is plenty of game always go on in de house, but dat is noting to me. My only business is to cook for de palates of dose who like de game.

(p. 179) "Sir Roger Greisley: I really don't know what, in common justice, M. Ude can have to do in this matter. He is the cook of the establishment certainly, but he only prepares what is ordered. The committee order the things, and he provides according to that order.

"M. Ude: Tank you, my dear Sare Rojer. I knew you vould get me out of de scrape vot de noble marquis has got me into dis time.

"Charles, Marquess of Queensberry, sworn: I was a member of the committee at Crockford's, but am not now. I was at Crockford's on the 19th, and dined, and grouse was served at the table.

"M. Ude: But, my noble friend (great laughter), as I said to my friend Sare Rojer, I know noting at all about vot vent into de room. I never sawed it at all. De orders are given to me. I send my people to de butcher, and to de poulterer, and to de fishmonger, and de tings are brought, and I command dem to be cooked, and dey are cooked, and dat is all I know about it.

"Sir F. Roe: Whether you know it or not, the Act of Parliament makes you liable.

"M. Ude: Upon my honour, dat is very hard. Ven I got de summons I remonstrated vid my Lord Alvanley, and he say, 'Oh, never mind, Ude, say dey vere pigeons, instead of grouse.' 'Ah, my lord,' say I, 'I cannot do better dan call dem pigeons, because dat bird is so common in dis house.' (Loud laughter.)

"Sir F. Roe, who appeared greatly to enjoy the scene, said he must, upon the oaths of the noble marquess and Sir Roger Griesley, convict the defendant; but he should certainly put the lowest penalty, namely, 5s.

"M. Ude: Vel, I shall pay de money, but it is dam hard. Ve have always game in our house, and de poor devil of a cook have to pay de penalty for it. (Great laughter.)"

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

"Exportation of Ice to India.

"Lord William Bentinck has presented to Mr. Rogers, supercargo of the ship Tuscany, a handsome silver vase, bearing the following inscription: 'Presented by Lord William Bentinck, Governor-General and Commander-in-Chief in India, to Mr. Rogers, of Boston, in acknowledgment of the spirit and enterprise which projected and successfully executed the first attempt to export (sic) a cargo of American ice into Calcutta.' The quantity of ice landed by the Tuscany was about one hundred tons, and the selling price being 6-1/2 cents per lb., it is calculated that the owners received $12,500 upon an investment which, including the cost of all the extra precautions for preserving the ice, did not exceed $500."

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

"Soon his true love followed 'arter
Under the name of Richard Carr,
And her lily white hands she daubed all over
With the nasty pitch and tar."

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.

"Mansion House, 10th Feb.—The Lord Mayor having observed a statement in the Observer newspaper relative to a female who for some time past had performed the duties of a seaman, directed an inspector of police to make inquiries into the circumstances, in order that, if the girl required assistance, it might be rendered to her, without subjecting her to annoyance. The inspector now appeared before the Lord Mayor, accompanied by the girl, the captain of the vessel in which she came to London, and several gentlemen who felt an interest in the remarkable details of the case.

"Captain McIntire, of the Sarah, from Belfast, stated that he met the girl, whose name is Ann Jane Thornton, at St. Andrew's, in North America. She was dressed in sailor's clothes, and had all the appearance of having been brought up to that employment. He engaged her at nine dollars a month to act as cook and steward, and considered that she was what she seemed to be, until a few days before the arrival of the vessel in the port of London. It appeared that some of the crew had suspected her sex before she was seen washing in her berth, from the circumstance of her having repeatedly refused to drink grog.

"The Lord Mayor: It has been reported that she was ill-treated by her captain and the crew. I wish to be particularly informed upon that point. Captain McIntire said he would call upon the girl to say whether he had not uniformly treated her with kindness, and whether, when her sex was discovered, the degree of kindness and care was not increased. The girl declared that Captain McIntire had acted towards her with humanity, and had desired her to complain to him if any of the crew attempted to treat her harshly. She had been, in the course of the voyage, struck by some of the sailors, because she could not work as hard as they did—a thing she found it difficult to do in a gale of wind, but she did not tell the captain, as she determined to endure as much as possible, without grumbling.

"The Lord Mayor: Is it possible that this mere girl, for she cannot be more than sixteen or seventeen years of age, performed the duties of a seaman?

(p. 195) "Captain McIntire: It is, my lord. She performed them to admiration. She would run up to hand (sic) the topgallant sail in any sort of weather, and we had a severe passage. Poor girl! she had a hard time of it, she suffered greatly from the wet, but she bore it all excellently, and was a capital seaman.

"The Lord Mayor: Is the account of the romantic pursuit of the person she is said to be attached to correct? Is it true that she went to America after the captain who was said to be her sweetheart?

"McLean said that the account she had given him corresponded with that which had appeared before the public; but she would, herself, mention the particulars.

"Captain McIntire said that he had no doubt of the correctness of her statement. She was not at all given to loquacity. On the contrary, she did the duty of a seaman without a murmur, and had infinitely better use of her hands than of her tongue.

"This description of the female sailor seemed to be accurate. Her hands appeared as if they were covered with thick brown leather gloves, and it was only by repeated questioning the Lord Mayor got from her the facts, of which the following is the substance—

"Ann Jane Thornton stated that she is in the seventeenth year of her age. Her father, who is now a widower, took her and the rest of his family from Gloucestershire, where she was born, to Donegal, when she was six years old. He was owner of stores in that part of Ireland, and in good circumstances, and was always affectionate to her. She regretted that she had quitted her home, for her departure, of which she had given no previous notice to her father, must have caused him many a sorrowful hour. When she was only thirteen years old, she met Captain Alexander Burke, whose father resided in New York, and was the owner of vessels there; and, before she was fifteen, they became strongly attached to each other. Soon after, Burke was obliged to go to New York, and she took up the resolution to follow him. She quitted her father's house accompanied by a maid-servant and a boy, and, having procured a cabin-boy's dress, she exerted herself to obtain a passage to America. The servant-maid and boy took leave of her immediately upon her embarking, the latter being charged with a message to her father, informing him of (p. 196) her intention. By degrees she became reconciled to the labours of her new employment, but she beheld with joy the shores of New York, where she thought her labours would terminate. The moment she landed, she went off in her cabin-boy's dress to the house of Captain Burke's father, and said that she had worked under the captain's orders, and wished to be engaged by him again. It was by the father of the young man she was informed that his son had died only a few days before. America, however, was no place in which to look for sympathy. In the belief that the sea (which no doubt her affection for Burke recommended to her) was a more probable mode of existence than any she could adopt in the dress of her sex, she applied for and obtained a situation as cook and steward in the Adelaide, and, subsequently, in the Rover, in which latter vessel she sailed to St. Andrew's, where she fell in with Captain McIntire. The captain of the Rover had agreed to take her to Belfast, but he received an order from the owners to sail for the West Indies, and, as she was resolved to return to her father as soon as possible, she refused to accompany him. For thirty-one months she had been engaged in these remarkable adventures, and participated in the most severe toils of the crews of which she formed part.

"The Lord Mayor: And are you not weary of so harassing a life?

"Girl: Yes. I am anxious to get home. I hope and believe that my father will forgive me for the sorrow I have caused him. I have had my own sorrows, too.

"The Lord Mayor: How did it happen that you fancied the sailor's dress, well knowing that by assuming the appearance of one you pledged yourself to perform such terrible duties?

"Girl: I couldn't think of any other way, and I did the duties as well as I could. I underwent a good deal. I travelled from East Port in North America to St. Andrew's by myself, a distance of seventy miles through the woods. I walked all the way.

"The Lord Mayor: And without sustaining any injury?

"Girl: I received none. I knew the sailor's clothes would carry me through safe, and at St. Andrew's I met Captain McIntire.

"The Lord Mayor: I will give directions that you be taken care of until I can hear from your father, to whom I shall (p. 197) write to-night. You have done him great wrong by abandoning him under any pretence, but you have suffered bitterly for your disobedience.

"The information which the Lord Mayor received from Ireland was that, soon after the girl had left her home, her father had emigrated, with many others, to Canada, for the purpose of seeking his fortune among the numberless adventurers who ran away from Irish turbulence and starvation at that period, and that he had sent back no intelligence to Ireland since his departure. In Donegal, however, a sister of the young woman was found to reside, who expressed great joy at hearing of her relation. The Lord Mayor gave the girl adequate means of defraying her expenses to Donegal."

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.

"The approaches to the House of Lords are very limited; the Peers, as well as the King, must enter by the Royal doorway and gallery throughout the session, and both parties must enter the body of the house by the same doorway—namely, that at the end of the Royal Gallery, formerly opening into the Painted Chamber, now the House of Lords. Facing this doorway is the woolsack, and a very small one it is compared with its predecessor; and, immediately behind it, and to the right of the doorway, is stationed the throne, against that end of the House which abuts upon the Thames; this, like the woolsack, is of very diminished proportions, when contrasted with the grand and gorgeous affair in the former House of Lords, as (p. 198) may be inferred when it is stated that it is the identical throne constructed for George IV.'s Council Chamber in a room in Carlton House.

"The present House of Lords is remarkably narrow, as may be imagined from the fact that the cross benches (the arrangement of the old house being followed, though somewhat in miniature) will not conveniently accommodate three or four peers each. There are side galleries for the peers, approached by staircases in the body of the House, but in line with the bar. All the furniture, the forms, etc., are covered with crimson and brass binding, as was the case in the former House. There are six richly gilt chandeliers, suspended by long lacquered chains, for the purpose of lighting the House. Both Houses are to be heated by steam apparatus, similar to that used in King's College Chapel, etc. In the Lords the conductors appear in the House, but are neatly enclosed with iron casings: in the Commons the heat ascends through a large grating in the centre of the floor of the House.

"There is a large gallery for strangers in the House of Lords, that is, that it projects well into the House, instead of being out of the House, as was the case with the accommodation formerly accorded by their Lordships. The front row of this gallery is arranged for the Press, separated from the rest of the gallery by a high partition, or backboard, and approachable at the end of the gallery by a passage for the exclusive advantage of the front row.

"The arrangement of seats in the Commons differs materially from that which characterized St. Stephen's. Here, all is remarkably open. There are no places under the gallery; all the members' seats, to the very end of the House, and even in the members' side galleries (there being no woodwork, only two iron rails in front) are as visible to all the House as the Treasury or Opposition benches, so that there will no longer be the opportunities of retreating into recesses or behind curtains, and there indulge in high-sounding sleep, or in still more unparliamentary, because far more modern, exclamations and imitations, when midnight may have approached, to give notice that the 'crowing' of the cock or the 'braying' of patient steeds may be expected. These things may again distinguish (p. 199) the assembly, but those who contribute to such distinction must now, at least, be seen by strangers as well as members. This may not be without its good effect in awing even the most refractory into something like respect for others, if they have no great deal for themselves. The woodwork is entirely of oak, and the seats are covered with green leather. The Speaker's chair is constructed like the old chair, which was after a design furnished by Sir C. Wren, though that chair is introduced in the celebrated picture of Oliver Cromwell desiring the 'bauble' to be removed. The Royal arms are not at the top, as that would have intercepted the view of the gallery behind the Chair, which will be chiefly appropriated to the press, and under the Speaker's control."

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.

"Marlborough Street.—William Smart, the proprietor of a gaming-house in the Quadrant, called the 'Regent Circus Club,' appeared before Mr. Dyer, yesterday, on a warrant charging him with committing an assault on a man named John Ward, under the following circumstances. The complainant stated that he had for some time filled a situation in the gaming-house kept by the defendant, but no longer wishing to have anything to do with such disgraceful proceedings, he gave the defendant warning to leave; but, when he applied for his wages, he was attacked by the defendant, and most cruelly beaten by him.

"The defendant, in answer to the charge, stated it was totally false, and that the first assault had been committed by the complainant himself. The truth was, that he had been discharged from his situation on account of his having retained some money which did not belong to him. The complainant denied this statement, and said that his reason for leaving the service was on account of the disgust he felt at the proceedings that were going forward, and the system of robbery that was practised (p. 202) upon the gentlemen who went to the defendant's house. He here handed to the magistrate a couple of the dice that were made use of in the defendant's house, saying, at the same time, that they were loaded for the purposes of deception.

"Mr. Dyer, after examining the dice, said that although it was certainly very disgraceful, if it were true, to make use of such instruments to rob the persons who might be foolish enough to enter a house of such a description, yet that had nothing to do with the present question. He considered the assault proved, and therefore called upon the defendant to find bail.

"A person, who said he attended professionally for the defendant, said they had now to make a charge against the complainant of having wilfully broken a valuable pane of plate glass. It appeared that this occurrence took place at a house of a similar description to that kept by the defendant, and which belonged to one of his friends or a relation, called 'The Melton Club,' in Park Lane.

"Ward, the complainant, said that he went there for the purpose of asking for his money, but could not gain admittance. He accidentally broke the window, and gained admission as far as 'the tiger.'

"Mr. Dyer asked what was meant by 'the tiger?'

"Ward replied that it meant the second door at a gaming-house, which was a very strong one, which enabled the persons inside to shut out any one they did not like to admit.

"Mr. Dyer asked the person who made the charge why it had not been brought forward before?—He replied that it was so paltry, that he did not think it worth while to bring it forward.

"Mr. Dyer said that, whether it was a paltry one or not, it would have looked much better if it had been brought forward before a charge had been made by the complainant. He then said that the defendant must find bail for the assault, and, with respect to the counter-charge which had been made, he should not interfere in it, but leave the parties to take their legal remedies."

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—

"March of Intellect.

"We can vouch (says the Bristol Mirror) for the authenticity of the following copy of a letter from her late servant, to Mrs.——

(p. 204) "'Dear Madam, I cannot enter into the family of the Hon. ——, without returning you many thanks for your unsteady and dishonourable character. I am truly sorry that you have been so unfortunate in your four cooks since I left, and trust the fifth will be as indifferent; but your cruel and unladylike insinuations could have no weight where my real character was so well known.

"'From your grateful friend, ——,

"'P.S.—Farewell—

"'May the turf where thy old reliques rest
Bear herbs, odoriferous herbs, on thy breast:
Their heads, thyme and sage, and pot marjoram wave,
And fat be the gander that feeds on thy grave.'"

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.

"In the month of February last, the warehouse of Messrs. Hall & Co., on the Custom House Quay, was broken into, and a box, in which there were deposited diamonds belonging to a foreign countess, and amounting to from £7000 to £8000 in value, stolen therefrom. From the mode in which the robbery had been effected at the Custom House, it was the opinion of Lea, the constable, at the time, that both it and the one at Messrs. Hall & Co.'s had been accomplished by the same parties who had effected the Custom House robbery. By the most singular accident, however, a portion of the diamonds had been discovered in such a manner as to leave no doubt that they had been in the possession of William Jourdan. Lea, the officer, made the following statement:—

"He said that, having satisfied himself by inquiries and information through various channels that Sullivan and Jourdan were the persons engaged in the robberies, he, with much difficulty, traced out their residence in the neighbourhood of Kennington. He had no sooner done so, than they by some means or other got information of it, and, before he could secure them, left their homes, taking with them a portmanteau and trunks each, with an excellent stock of clothes, and took up their lodgings at the Red Lion Tavern, in King Street, Bloomsbury, where they represented themselves as persons engaged in mercantile pursuits. By this means, he (Lea) lost trace of them for several days, until a person who had been placed to watch the house at Kennington, followed and traced the brother of Sullivan to the Red Lion. Lea lost no time in going to the house, and on making inquiries of the landlady about the person (describing Sullivan's brother) who had been there, a short time before, with a green bag, and the object of his calling; she said he was a shoemaker, who had called to take some orders from, and do some work for, two gentlemen who were stopping in the house.

"Sullivan's brother is a common thief, and had merely assumed the character to prevent any suspicion in the minds of Mr. Proctor and his family, and, by this means, he was enabled to (p. 207) see his brother and Jourdan often, and, when seen by a fourth party, his manner towards them was precisely that of an artisan. Lea then proceeded to state that from the description which he obtained from Mrs. Proctor of the description of the persons who were at her house, he was satisfied that they were the parties of whom he was in pursuit, and he consequently made such arrangements as to succeed in the apprehension of both on the following morning.

"At that time (the 2nd inst.), after securing the prisoners, he made what he conceived to be a minute search of the apartments which the prisoners occupied, and had secured everything belonging to them, but he had now discovered that, notwithstanding all his care, he had overlooked some most valuable property.

"After the capture of the prisoners, Jourdan's wife and Sullivan's brother had repeatedly called at Mr. Proctor's, and, upon various occasions, expressed the greatest anxiety to go into the room which had been occupied by Jourdan, but this was refused, notwithstanding their earnest entreaties. Two or three persons, of gentlemanly appearance, had, at different times, driven up to the door in coaches, with luggage, as if they had come off a journey, and eagerly asked for lodgings; but Mr. Proctor, owing to what had previously happened, refused to let any strangers lodge at his house, and the parties were obliged to go away.

"On Thursday morning last, Mr. Hanson, a gentleman residing at Reading, who, when in town, was always in the habit of stopping at Mr. Proctor's, called there, and his luggage being taken into the room that had been previously occupied by Jourdan, he ordered a fire to be lit by the time he came home in the evening. This was done by a charwoman, who is in the habit of attending the house, and that being the first time since spring that a fire had been made in the room, she threw a quantity of what she conceived to be rubbish which had accumulated during the summer months under the ornamental paper in the grate, on the top of the coals, after the fire had been made up.

"In the course of the night the attention of Mr. Hanson was attracted to a most brilliant substance in the centre of the fire, and, on taking it out with the tongs, he, on inspection, found a (p. 208) brooch of considerable size, set with pearls, but the greater part of the gold mounting had melted from it. This circumstance led him to examine the fire more minutely, and he found two more, one of a larger and one of a smaller size, but which, as well as the former, had been seriously damaged by the fire. On communicating the circumstance to Mr. Proctor, the fire and the ashes underneath were carefully examined, and seven good sized brilliants, seven emeralds, one of which is of considerable size and must have been of great value, and four dozen of small but sparkling brilliants were found.

"Lea recollected perfectly, upon searching Jourdan's room, observing the ornamental paper in the fireplace, but not perceiving it disturbed in any way, it did not occur to him to examine it minutely, particularly as the prisoners had trunks in the room. There was no doubt on his mind that the property which had been placed there by Jourdan was of considerable value, from the anxiety evinced by his friends to get to the room to secure it, and it was not at all improbable that there was a portion of the notes stolen from the Custom House placed there also, and, if so, they must have been destroyed by the fire."

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:—

"A little girl who stated her name to be Charlotte Savage, and that she was thirteen years of age, was brought up by Mr. Solomon, who stated that her story was so extraordinary that he thought it his duty to let her state it to the bench.

"The child, in reply to the questions of the magistrate, stated that her father's name was Robert Savage, that he was formerly a soldier, but, on marrying her mother, turned Custom House officer, and was now living at Bristol. Just before hay-making time last year she and her brother Robert went to the theatre at Bath; and, as they were returning home at night, her brother being a little on before, she was taken up by some gipsies, who gagged her, and put her into a cart. She had ever since been travelling about with them, and knew the names of three, who were called John, Richard, and William Lee. They got a living by selling combs, and by stealing geese, turkeys, sheep, and rabbits, which they killed and skinned, and the skins of the sheep and rabbits they sold. Whenever they travelled through any towns they put her at top of a cart, and when they encamped she was always employed in washing linen or nursing the children; and she could not escape, there being always a great boy and girl with her.

(p. 215) "About three weeks ago they went through Brighton to Lewes. There part of the gipsies took lodgings, and those she was with, having to go into the town, left her in a lodging-house kept by a Mrs. Tickner. There, to amuse herself, she began reading the Testament with a little boy, which Mrs. Tickner observing, said she could not have been brought up to the gipsy life, or she would not have been able to read. She replied that she had not, and then told Mrs. Tickner her story. Mrs. Tickner said she had once had a little boy of her own stolen, and she knew the distraction the loss of children caused parents to feel; and that, therefore, the gipsies should give her up, or she would make them, and she would keep her until she should hear from her parents. She then got a letter written to them, and received an answer (stating her mother was on her deathbed, and had been ill ever since her disappearance), together with five shillings in a parcel. Mrs. Tickner then hearing that there was a steam packet that sailed from the chain pier at Brighton, let her come over to Brighton; she accordingly arrived there, and went to the pier to inquire about the packet, and was told that there was no steam packet that went from Brighton to Bristol, but there was a coach which did. She went to all the coach offices, and there learnt that the Bristol coach had ceased running for the last fortnight; and, upon asking for lodgings, was recommended to the Seven Stars. There she found a person who knew the place near the Bell, where she was taken up, and another who knew her mother and uncles. To them she showed the letter, which she had since lost; and, upon her making her story known, she was brought to the Town Hall, and put into the prison. At the idea of having been put into prison the child cried very much.

"Sir D. Scott asked what had become of the gipsies.

"The girl replied that she did not know, as they were travelling about the country.

"Mr. Solomon said he had taken the girl to the assistant-overseer, who took down the particulars in writing, but said he did not believe her story.

"The girl said if they would take her to Mr. Burton, of the theatre, he would know her again.

"Sir D. Scott: How do you know he is here?

"Girl: I read his name in the play-bill, and he used to write (p. 216) letters to my mother, when his wife lodged with us. He was property man at our theatre.

"Sir D. Scott: Property man! Why how came you to know there was such a person in a theatre? How came you to know so much about a theatre?

"The girl replied that her father and mother at one time lived in front of Bath theatre. They used to go to the theatre sometimes, by permission of Mrs. Macready; and she herself had been brought up to it, when a little girl three years old. They lived in the drawing-room and had the whole of the house.

"Sir D. Scott: If we let you go now, you will never get home with five shillings, and, then, if we did, you are likely to be taken by some gipsies again.

"Girl: I should like to be sent to Mr. Burton first, to see if he would send me home; he knows all my relations, and I know him well.

"Mr. Burton having been sent for, said he thought he could remember her face, but it was two years since he had seen her. He added he had no doubt of the truth of her story. The girl then asked him if he would let her have money to take her home, or if he would keep her until her friends could send for her. This Mr. Burton said he could not afford to do.

"Mr. Solomon said the girl told him the gipsies had a young man with them, chained down to one of their carts.

"Sir D. Scott: Chained down?

"The girl assured him that was the fact; and, from what she had heard from Mrs. Tickner, and the description of him, she had no doubt it was a son of the Rev. Mr. Jones.

"Sir D. Scott then ordered that the girl should be taken over to Lewes, and confronted with Mrs. Tickner; and, if what the girl stated turned out to be true, directed a letter to be sent to the parents; the girl, meanwhile, being kept in the workhouse."

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, some are good—indeed, we may say, very good—many promising, and some so bad that it was ground (p. 218) of wonder that room should be found for them. They certainly remind us of Peter Pindar's description of matrimony, which the caustic satirist describes—

'Like to Jeremiah's figs,
The good are very good, the bad not fit to give to pigs.'"

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 Hon. C. Berkeley said that he now brought this question, for the second time, under the consideration of the House, because he was perfectly convinced that his motion would have been carried last session, if many friends of the measure had not happened to have been in the House at the time. (Laughter.) The Committee, who had agreed to the report which had just been read, had been fairly chosen, and they had considered how the object could be attained at the least possible expense; and, for his own part, he could not see why ladies should not be admitted, when they were placed in such a situation that they could not interfere in the debate. (Great laughter.) It had been said that the presence of ladies during the debates would distract the attention of honourable members, although he must confess that if the ladies were in the House it would make no difference in his thoughts. (Loud and continued laughter.) Perhaps some gentlemen, at least, who were made of so much more inflammable materials (shouts of laughter) might be so affected. The ladies were once admitted to that gallery, and the debates were not prolonged then, though it was now the fashion to say that the debates would be prolonged if they were admitted, and that many persons who were not now in the habit of speaking would be generally getting up to address the House when the ladies were present; but, on the other hand, he believed there were many who spoke much more for the papers than the ears of their audience (great laughter), who would not speak if the ladies were there to hear them. He would not detain the House, but would conclude by moving that, 'It is the opinion of (p. 220) this House that the Resolution of the Select Committee appointed in 1835 to consider the means of admitting ladies to a portion of the Strangers' Gallery, together with the plan of Sir R. Smirke, should be adopted, and that means should be taken to carry it into effect, with as little delay as possible.'

"Mr. Potter, amidst the loudest laughter, begged leave to second the motion. He could not possibly conceive any good reason which could be assigned against it. The plan had been tried in the old House, in the Ventilator. (A laugh.) Surely the female sex were as much interested in the proceedings of that House as the other, and if any portion of them were disposed to hear the debates, they ought not to refuse them. It was well known that the ladies exercised an important influence in the State, and why should it not be properly exercised? Why should the beneficial influence of a virtuous and enlightened mother (a laugh) not be exerted over her son who had a seat in Parliament? And if the wife of any hon. member wished to hear the debates, why should she not have the opportunity? They were admitted into the French Chamber at Paris, and it was well known that the ladies had seats assigned to them. He had seen them there pay as much attention to the debates as any one else, and he had never witnessed the slightest appearance of levity. (Loud laughter.) The ladies were also admitted to hear the debates of Congress at Washington, and surely we ought not to act in this exclusive and Oriental manner.

"Mr. Kearsley said that he did hope that every hon. member, who was blessed with a bride or daughters, would give his negative to this idle, this ridiculous proposition. (Loud laughter.)

"Mr. O'Connell remarked that in the Irish Parliament ladies were admitted to hear the debates, and he was afraid the detail of the cause of their being admitted would throw something like a censure upon the members of the Irish Senate. However, he would state that at that time hospitalities of a particular kind prevailed in Ireland, and the consequence of these hospitalities was that many members came drunk to the House. (Laughter.) The remedy proposed was that ladies should be admitted. This was tried, and from that moment not a single person was seen drunk. He did not say there existed the same reasons for admitting the ladies into this House (laughter), but at all events (p. 221) he thought there existed no good reason why they should be excluded.

"Mr. Villiers said that he was neither blessed with daughters nor a bride-elect (laughter), but still he thought no sufficient grounds had been shown to justify this motion. He was, however, glad to find that every class of persons in the community was represented in this House. There were the friends of the people, the friends of the Church, the farmers' friends, and, now, the friends of the ladies. (Laughter.) He thought, however, the hon. and gallant member for Cheltenham, by his motion, proposed an organic change. (Renewed laughter.) But it seemed to him that no excitement existed outside of the House on the subject; he was not aware that any petitions had been presented with reference to it. The hon. and gallant member had said that he did not see any harm in the measure; but would the matter end here? Might not hon. Members have some ulterior views? (Loud laughter.) The hon. and gallant member proposed to admit the ladies into the gallery, but were there not places under the gallery? Were there not the lobby and the library, and might not some hon. member push the measure further and give them admission there, much to the inconvenience of the House? (Hear, hear.) But even if admitted to the gallery only, in what way, he begged to inquire, were hon. members to exercise their privilege? They could not admit as many ladies as gentlemen—nay, even they could not accommodate as many ladies as there were Irish members. Was the power of granting admissions to be vested in the Minister for the Home Department; and, if so, might not he be charged with undue influence in admitting ladies of a certain description? (Loud laughter.) Might not the champion of some old lady charge him with corrupt motives in excluding her? In short, the more the subject was considered the more difficult it seemed. (Renewed laughter.) He hoped, if the hon. and gallant member for Cheltenham would, if he meant to introduce a bill upon the subject, have it circulated in all the populous towns of the country, so that during the autumn its effects might be ascertained. (Great laughter.) At present hon. members were unacquainted with the complicated details of the measure; they did not know all the bearings of the proposition, though it had been brought forward for two sessions running; (p. 222) and, therefore, he hoped that the hon. and gallant member would consent to postpone it. (General laughter.)

"The House divided. For the motion, 139; against, 40."

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

"Royal Charley back again.

"We have received the following account of the departure from Greenock of Charles Edward Stuart and his brother, John Sobieski Stuart. They are said to be grandsons of Charles Edward Stuart, the Pretender. Of course they must be illegitimate, as the present King of Sardinia is heir to that prince:—

"'On Friday Charles Edward Stuart and his brother John, grandsons to the Pretender, embarked on board the Foyle for Londonderry. The scions of the house of Stuart belong to Italy, and have been on a tour to the north of Scotland, visiting the places named in the romantic adventures of their ancestor, the young Ascarvius. They are good-looking young men, and bear a strong resemblance to the portraits of "Royal Charley." They speak the Italian, French, English, Gaelic, and Irish languages, and are always attired in the Highland costume of the house of Stuart, and accompanied by a piper of the clan. They have never worn any other dress than the kilt and its Highland appendages, and their seal is a crown. At the time they embarked the piper played some of the principal Jacobite airs, composed as laments at the misfortunes of the Pretender. A number of Highlanders of the higher and middle classes went on board to have a peep at the strangers, and although they to a man were all of the High Tory caste, yet they looked with veneration on the Stuarts. The visitors and passengers assembled in the cabin seemed determined to honour the memory of "Royal Charley" by quaffing bumpers of the best "Glenlivet." One of the company was deputed to ask permission (sic) of Charles Edward, who respectfully declined the honour intended, and said it was not proper under present circumstances. The brothers expressed their high gratification at the enthusiasm of the Greenock Celtic Tories, and seemed much affected.'"

(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 Cutter match between the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge.

"The long-expected match between the gentlemen of the Universities came off on Friday (June 17th). The sum to be rowed for was £400, or, as others say, £1000. The weather was most unpropitious, and those who ventured forth on Friday must have possessed more than ordinary 'game.' Betting had been two and three to one on the Oxonians, and there were plenty of takers. At four o'clock the competitors were at their posts, and, the signal having been given, they were off. The gentlemen of Cambridge took the lead, but the Oxonians were right on them. Nothing could have been finer than the exertions displayed by each party, but Cambridge still maintained the lead, nor did they, throughout, ever forfeit that advantage. Cambridge won by four lengths, and did not exhibit any symptoms of distress."

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.

"The King invited the Duchess of Kent to go to Windsor on the 12th of August, to celebrate the Queen's birthday (13th) and stay there over his own birthday, which was to be kept (privately) on the 21st (the real day, but falling on a Sunday), and publicly on the day following. She sent word that she wanted to keep her own birthday at Claremont on the 15th (or whatever the day is), took no notice of the Queen's birthday, but said she would go to Windsor on the 20th. This put the King in a fury; he made, however, no reply, and on the 20th he was in town to prorogue Parliament, having desired that they would not wait dinner for him at Windsor. After the prorogation, he went to Kensington Palace to look about it; when he got there, he found that the Duchess of Kent had appropriated to her own use a suite of apartments, seventeen in number, for which she had applied last year, and which he had refused to let her have. This increased his ill-humour, already excessive.

"When he arrived at Windsor, and went into the drawing-room (at about ten at night), where the whole party was assembled, he went up to the Princess Victoria, took hold of both her hands, and expressed his pleasure at seeing her there, and his regret at not seeing her oftener. He then turned to the Duchess, and (p. 228) made her a low bow, almost immediately after which he said that 'a most unwarrantable liberty had been taken with one of his palaces; that he had just come from Kensington, where he found apartments had been taken possession of, not only without his consent, but contrary to his commands, and that he neither understood nor would endure conduct so disrespectful "to him."' This was said loudly, publicly, and in a tone of serious displeasure. It was, however, only the muttering of the storm which was to break the next day.

"Adolphus Fitzclarence went into his room on Sunday morning, and found him in a state of great excitement. It was his birthday, and, though the celebration was what was called private, there were a hundred people at dinner, either belonging to the Court, or from the neighbourhood. The Duchess of Kent sat on one side of the King, and one of his sisters on the other, the Princess Victoria opposite. Adolphus Fitzclarence sat two or three from the Duchess, and heard every word of what passed. After dinner, by the Queen's desire, 'His Majesty's health, and long life to him,' was given, and, as soon as it was drunk, he made a very long speech, in the course of which he poured forth the following extraordinary and foudroyante tirade:—

"'I trust in God that my life may be spared for nine months longer, after which period, in the event of my death, no regency would take place. I should then have the satisfaction of leaving the Royal authority to the personal exercise of that young lady (pointing to the Princess), the heiress presumptive of the Crown, and not in the hands of a person now near me, who is surrounded by evil advisers, and who is herself incompetent to act with propriety in the station in which she would be placed. I have no hesitation in saying that I have been insulted—grossly and continuously insulted—by that person, but I am determined to endure no longer a course of behaviour so disrespectful to me. Amongst many other things, I have particularly to complain of the manner in which that young lady has been kept away from my Court; she has been repeatedly kept from my drawing-rooms, at which she ought always to have been present, but I am fully determined that this shall not happen again. I would have her know that I am King, and I am determined to make my authority respected; and, for the future, I shall insist and command that the Princess (p. 229) do, upon all occasions, appear at my Court, as it is her duty to do.' He terminated his speech by an allusion to the Princess and her future reign in a tone of paternal interest and affection, which was excellent in its way.

"This awful philippic (with a great deal more which I forget) was uttered with a loud voice and excited manner. The Queen looked in deep distress, the Princess burst into tears, and the whole company were aghast. The Duchess of Kent said not a word. Immediately afterwards, they rose and retired, and a terrible scene ensued: the Duchess announced her immediate departure, and ordered her carriage, but a sort of reconciliation was patched up, and she was prevailed upon to stay till the next day. The following morning, when the King saw Adolphus, he asked him what people said to his speech. He replied that they thought the Duchess merited his rebuke, but that it ought not to have been given there; that he ought to have sent for her into his closet, and have said all he felt and thought there, but not at table before a hundred people. He replied that he did not care where he said it, or before whom, that, 'By God, he had been insulted by her in a manner that was past all endurance, and he would stand it no longer.'"

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.

"Alderman Kelly: What can you do besides writing poetry?

"Defendant: Besides writing poetry! Do you call that nothing? I can do more. I can teach people to write poetry.

"Alderman Kelly: Well, whatever you do, you must not annoy people of business. If you are in necessity, you have a claim upon your parish, whatever people may say to you, and I advise you to act accordingly.

"Defendant:

When beggars apply for parochial relief,
The welcome they meet is, 'You rascally thief,
Why don't you go work, or beg, borrow, or steal,
Of those who are able to pay for your meal?
Only pass by the parish; the devil may care
If you feed with a bishop, or feed with a bear.'

"Alderman Kelly: You had better give me back those two shillings for some more deserving person.

(p. 231) "Defendant: I'd willingly do so, but that I think people would never forgive me for being such a fool (laughter).

"Mr. Hobler (chief clerk): I'd have you try the Press, now that the stamp is reduced. I've known some people paid for worse stuff at the enormous rate of a penny a line.

"Defendant: God bless you, Mr. Hobler, you always give me good advice, as well as something to keep the wolf from the door.

Long life to you, my good old clerk,
With your pen stuck in your ear;
May your money increase from day to day,
And your children from year to year."

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—

"Their ballast being expended, near to the sea descended,
And what most them befriended, their cloaths went overboard,
Great coats and trousers gone, cork jackets they put on,
And thus again ascended aloft in the air.
They flew o'er Calais town, people of high renown
Took horses and rode after; it caused a hearty laughter,
And soon they found them hamper'd and clinging to a tree."

(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—

"Death had a high day in the metropolis last Sunday; and, perhaps, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, such a scene has not been witnessed. There was scarcely an undertaker unemployed, and many were unable to accomplish their orders. Hearses and mourning coaches were to be seen driving through the streets, hurrying from the execution of one funeral to the commencement of another. Walking funerals were met at almost every corner of the public streets, and many who had ordered carriages were unable to procure them, and were compelled to wade through the dirt and wet on foot. The churchyards seemed to be all bustle and confusion. The principal interments took place in the parishes of St. Pancras, Marylebone, St. Giles's, Clerkenwell, Whitechapel, Bethnal Green, and St. Margaret's and St. John's Westminster. It is computed that not less than a thousand burials must have taken place on Sunday, and when it is considered that the number of parishes in and around the metropolis is near two hundred, the calculation does not seem to be an exaggerated one.

"In the churchyards of St. Pancras and St. Giles the scenes were truly awful, and even disgusting to the feelings. The burial ground in the former had more the appearance of a ploughed field; furrows from the graves were turned up all over the place, and such was the scene between three and four o'clock, that not less than between forty and fifty interments took place, the undertakers scarce knowing which grave to go to. Groups of mourners, with corpses waiting, in every part, for the clergyman to take his turn in performing the funeral service; (p. 237) then the horrid manner of the grave-diggers (navigators, who seemed hired for the purpose), their awful language, and careless manner of filling in the graves, jumping and stamping on the coffins—such a sight, indeed, was enough to appal the hardest heart. Some of the mourners had actually to wait upwards of an hour before their relatives could be interred.

"The epidemic seems not only to have been destructive in its own natural form, but, at Guy's Hospital, in the wards, where a free circulation of air existed, it has, in many instances, run into bronchitis and pneumonia, and has even induced severe symptoms of typhoid or yellow fever, in all which cases, it is easy to guess what were the consequences. So very fatal, indeed, has it proved in this way, that the managers of several hospitals have set apart wards exclusively for patients with influenza. Dr. Johnson, at the last meeting of the Westminster Medical Society, stated that it has been far more violent in its character, and universal in its extent, than the epidemic of 1833."

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:—

(p. 241) "Yesterday being the anniversary upon which the heiress presumptive to the throne of these realms attained the age of eighteen, considerable expectation had been raised amongst the holiday seekers and sightseers of the metropolis that the day would be celebrated by military displays, reviews, and those attractions usually put forward on those occasions. Early in the morning dense crowds were seen wending their way from all parts of the metropolis, in the direction of Hyde Park, in anticipation that their 'weary walk' would be remunerated by one of those displays of military manœuvres which, in times of peace, delight those who wish to live at ease, and in the reality of which so many Britons have participated, to the honour, the glory, and the best interests of the land that gave them birth. So general was the anticipation that such would commence the festivities of the day, that crowds of artisans who had proceeded towards the usual scene of action at an early hour, were followed towards the same arena by vehicles of every description conveying their fellow-subjects, who, though more wealthy, were equally devoted to loyalty and amusement. Great was the disappointment when hour after hour passed and brought no military relief to the greensward, and eventually the multitude assembled diverged homewards, or proceeded in search of other attractions. It is proper to state that, at the dawn of day, salutes were fired from the ordnance depôts of the metropolis, and to this only was the military display confined.

"In the evening the principal streets of the City and West End were most brilliantly illuminated, and, the weather being fine, the crowds of eager spectators who had been disappointed early in the day rendered the streets impassable. The club houses in Pall Mall, St. James's Street, and elsewhere, were elegantly and most appropriately illuminated, with one solitary exception—the Reform club house in Pall Mall, in front of which was exhibited the word "Victoria" in variegated lamps. Some wags doubted the propriety of this display, and, looking at the Parliamentary events of the preceding night, were sceptical as to the fitness of the word at such a moment. It was, however, questioned by some bystanders whether the display was designed as a compliment to the heiress presumptive, or had reference to the "mighty triumph" of the pseudo Liberals in the House of (p. 242) Commons on the recent division.[20] Whatever was the intention of the parties by whose direction the exhibition was made, it is beyond doubt that the word 'Victoria' was, in that view, as much laughed at as though an insignificant 'Five' had blazoned forth in all the arrogance of conquest.

"Though the illuminations were by no means general, yet the tradespeople of the Royal Family manifested devoted loyalty and considerable taste in the displays they made. It would be invidious to the parties, and uninteresting to our readers, to describe the numerous devices and their localities. The task must be indefinite, and it must, therefore, content the curious to know that the brilliancy of the illumination, the taste displayed, and the good humour which manifested itself in all directions, made some considerable amends to the disappointment of the holiday folk in the morning. Densely as the streets were thronged (and we never saw them more so), we heard of no accident having occurred—a fact which was rendered the more remarkable by the total absence of anything like police arrangements as to the passage of carriages through the principal and most attractive of the streets. On the whole, however, the day passed off wonderfully well, and a late hour of the night saw thousands home, who were highly delighted with the sights they had seen."

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

"June Sonnet.

"Good was the omen on th' auspicious night
When kept was fair Victoria's natal day—
London in gas, and oil, and tallow gay,
Looked a vast isle of artificial light:
Anchors and crowns, and roses beaming bright;
Stars, garters, and triangles, shone around:
Lions and unicorns all chained and crowned,
And other blazonings—yellow, green, red, white—
Dazzled the air. But, more delighted, we
Welcomed one blazing letter everywhere
(p. 243) Playing a double duty. Hail, great V!
V! Ministerial sad majority—
Mark of the unhappy Five! with grim despair
Did Melbourne and his men that symbol see.'

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:—

"Windsor Castle, Tuesday, June 20.

"It has pleased Almighty God to release from his sufferings our most gracious sovereign, King William the Fourth. His Majesty expired this morning at twelve minutes past two o'clock.

"Matt. John Tierney.
"Wm. Fred Chambers.
"David Davies."

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—

"'Mr. Squeers, I believe, sir?'

"'The same, sir,' said Mr. Squeers, with an assumption of extreme surprise.

"'The gentleman,' said the stranger, 'that advertised in the Times newspaper?'

"'Morning Post, Chronicle, Herald, and Advertiser, regarding the academy called Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village of Dotheboys near Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire,' added Mr. Squeers. 'You come on business, sir, I see by my young friends....'

"'Hem!' said the other; 'twenty pounds per annum, I believe, Mr. Squeers?'

"'Guineas,' rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive smile.

"'Pounds for two I think, Mr. Squeers,' said Mr. Snawley, solemnly.

"'I don't think it could be done, sir,' replied Mr. Squeers, as if he had never considered the proposition before. 'Let me see: four times five is twenty, double that, and deduct the —— Well, a pound either way shall not stand betwixt us. You must recommend me to your connection, sir, and make it up that way....'

"'And this,' resumed Snawley, 'has made me anxious to put them to some school a good distance off, where there are no holidays—none of those ill-judged comings home twice a-year that unsettles children's minds so—and where they may rough it a little; you comprehend?'"

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—

"It is a very fine country—fresh mountain air. Dotheboys Hall is still here, no longer a school. Mr. Shaw, the original of Squeers, married a Miss Laidman, who was a sort of cousin of my father. The school buildings are pulled down, but the house (Dotheboys) is still a very nice handsome one, with large offices, cowhouses, etc. We learn from our landlady that in the room (p. 253) where we are now sitting (Unicorn Inn, Bowes) Dickens had lunch the day he and a friend rode over from Barnard Castle to see and make sketches of Mr. Shaw's school, and this same old lady, Mrs. Highmoor, waited on them. Dickens was only here that day, but he stayed longer in Barnard Castle, and got a great deal of gossip, not too true, about the school from one ——, a quondam usher of Shaw's and 'a bad lot,' who had, indeed, been turned off for bad conduct.

"Mrs. Highmoor tells me, as indeed my father always says, that Dotheboys Hall is a most exaggerated caricature. But somehow the description was in some respects so correct that everybody recognized it. Poor Shaw quite took it to heart, and did no more good, got childish and paralytic, and soon died. The school went down fast. Mrs. Shaw also died broken-hearted. But a good deal of money was left behind. Mrs. Highmoor says there were an immense number of boys; that Mr. Shaw chartered a special coach to bring them from London (this place is on one of the great coaching roads between York and Glasgow); and that there was great joy in the village on the arrival of the coach and its precious freight—quite the event it was. She says the boys were used very well, and fed as well as could be expected for £20 a-year; that there might be things wrong, but no complaints were ever made; that Shaw made money, because on his own farm he grazed the cows and fed the sheep and pigs which supplied the boys' food.

"My impression is that Yorkshire schools were bad, but not so bad as Dickens makes out, and Shaw's was better than most of them. There is a strong feeling here of indignation against Dickens, who no doubt ruined poor Shaw."

"An old pupil of Mr. Squires—the Mr. Squeers of Dickens's 'Nicholas Nickleby'—has died at New Brunswick, leaving behind a record of his schooldays. This is to be published as a sort of post-mortem vindication of Mr. Squires, whose career as a pedagogue was rather unfairly caricatured by the novelist. The old pupil is the Rev. Ralph Willis, a native of London. He went to school at Bowes, in Yorkshire, and it was through his father that Dickens heard of the school. Many of the scenes in the book he describes as inventions; but the moral of the reminiscences is that Squires was not as black as he was painted" (Globe, June 5, 1895).

(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—

"Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round."

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—

"At last, hurried steps are heard, and the door opening briskly, Mr. Jackson (the host) in person appears, who excuses himself for his delay on account of some business, which, he says, kept him; he shakes your hands, both at once, in each of his, and tells you dinner is served; and then you offer your arm to Mrs. Jackson, I take that of the timid eldest daughter, and we descend (p. 257) to the ground floor, to the dining-room, which, like the two drawing-rooms, is everywhere the same, in form, size, and situation. You can hardly fail to observe all the brilliant plate, not only on the table but also on the sideboard, where trays of every size, goblets, covers, plates, and other objects of the same metal are ranged against the wall; this display puts one in mind of a silversmith's shop.

"The table is out of all proportion long; each end is occupied, the one by Mr. Jackson, who undertakes to serve the fish and to carve the large joints (such as an immense turbot, and then an enormous piece of roast beef); the other end by madame, who, having placed you on her right, and me on her left, begins to serve the soup; she will afterwards ask you to carve the everlasting boiled fowls, à la sauce blanche. As for the French ragouts, which are ranged lengthwise down the table in covered dishes, be careful and avoid them; I recommend it as a friend. You have accepted soup, and I see that you are astonished to find little côtelettes, bones, forced meat balls, etc., swimming about; the cayenne pepper and other hot spices cause you to make a grimace, whilst they burn your throat; never mind! eat some turbot, you will find it excellent.

"You must now bravely 'screw your courage to the sticking place;' you are nailed to that chair for the space of two hours and a half at least, without any chance of conversation, except only a few interrupted words, each person speaking occasionally in a low tone to his or her neighbour. The burly Mr. Crack, to whom Mrs. Jackson introduced us, has, as yet, only opened his mouth for the purpose of endeavouring to satisfy his extraordinary appetite; this, however, appears to be labour in vain; he is placed in the middle of the table, and fills the place of two persons, whilst he eats enough for four. As to that soi-disant élégant—that little personage placed next to Miss Maria, who cannot turn his head because of his stiff black stock which keeps it in prison—you will guess by his ridiculous affectation and exaggerated politeness to his neighbours to what sphere he belongs; particularly when, during the dessert, on her asking him the favour to give her an orange, he will take it up between two spoons, one in each hand, his elbows raised and his fingers extended. The only speech which you will have heard him utter (p. 258) was when good Mr. Jackson cried out, after emptying his glass, 'After all, the climate of England is the best in the world!' and he rejoined, 'It is unquestionably true!' Thus pass two hours! However, at last the cloth is removed, and we continue round the well-rubbed or polished mahogany table. At this point of the entertainment Mr. Jackson makes us a bow, pronouncing at the same time a few indistinct words; we all return his bow. This, after dinner, is a regular custom—a sort of agimus tibi gratias, which is thus said in abridgment.

"The table is now covered with crystal, fruit, and flowers, and wine decanters; these are first arranged in battle array before the host; and, at his signal, made by pushing the first round, they begin their promenade of the table, one gentleman sliding them along to the next; the ladies take a little, taste the fruit, and, having occupied some moments in putting on their white gloves, rise, following the example of Mrs. Jackson; we all do the same, but only to conduct them to the door of the room. Here, however, the force of habit makes you forget the recommendation I had given you—you try to escape; but a hand retains you by the tail of your coat; it is that of Mr. Jackson, who observes to you that you have still a bottle of claret to finish with him. Mr. Crack, too, had made a polite effort to rise on the departure of the ladies, but his own weight reseated him; he has now got to the raisins and preserved fruits, etc.

"After another mortal hour a servant enters, and announces that the tea and coffee are taken upstairs; we ascend. Mrs. Jackson advances to us immediately, she asks if we play or sing, and tells us how amiable we should be to do so—this is a request rarely addressed to an Englishman, one is too sure of a reply in the negative. Mrs. Jackson appears very much astonished that neither you nor I can satisfy her in this respect; and, after many protestations in order to convince her, she makes a sign to Miss Dorothy, the great musician of the family, who opens the piano, places her two feet on both the pedals, and begins a confused din, under which the instrument itself seems to suffer. When she has finished you will be much embarrassed to tell me whether it was an adagio, a waltz, or a quadrille which she has favoured us with. But, never mind; like great Mr. Crack, who is seated in his armchair, digesting his dinner, you cry out, 'Delightful!' This is all that is required.

(p. 259) "At length midnight is nearly arrived, and ceremony and restraint, the nous ne savons que faire, still reigns at Mrs. Jackson's; having wished them good-night, let us go!"

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:—

"It appears to me that nothing can be better contrived to defeat its legitimate end than a large dinner-party in the London season—sixteen, for instance. The names of the guests are generally so announced that it is difficult to hear them; and, in the earlier part of the year, the assembling takes place in such obscurity that it is impossible to see. There is often a tedious and stupefying interval of waiting, caused perhaps by some affected fashionable, some important politician, or some gorgeously decked matron, or, it may be, by some culinary accident. At last comes the formal business of descending into the dining-room, where the blaze of light produces by degrees sundry recognitions; but many a slight acquaintance is prevented from being renewed by the chilling mode of assembling. In the long days the light is more favourable, but the waiting is generally more tedious, and half the guests are perhaps leaving the Park when they ought to be sitting down to dinner.

"At table intercourse is prevented as much as possible by a huge centre piece of plate and flowers, which cuts off the one half of the company from the other, and some very awkward mistakes have taken place in consequence, from guests having made personal observations upon those who were actually opposite to them. It seems strange that people should be invited to be hidden from one another. Besides the centre piece, there are usually massive branches to assist in interrupting communication; and perhaps you are placed between two persons with whom you are not acquainted, and have no community of interest to become so.

"When the company is arranged, then comes the perpetual motion of the attendants, the perpetual declining of what you do not want, and the perpetual waiting for what you do, or a silent (p. 260) resignation to your fate. To desire a potato, and to see the dish handed to your next neighbour, and taking its course in a direction from you round an immense table, with occasional retrograde movements and digressions, is one of the unsatisfactory occurrences which frequently take place; but, perhaps, the most distressing incident in a grand dinner is to be asked to take champagne, and, after much delay, to see the butler extract the bottle from a cooler, and hold it nearly parallel to the horizon, in order to calculate how much he is to put into the first glass to leave any for the second. To relieve him and yourself from the chilling difficulty, the only alternative is to change your mind and prefer sherry, which, under the circumstances, has rather an awkward effect. These and an infinity of minor evils are constantly experienced amidst the greatest displays, and they have, from sad experience, made me come to the conclusion that a combination of state and calculation is the horror of horrors. Some good bread and cheese and a jug of ale, comfortably set before me and heartily given, are heaven and earth in comparison.

"I must not omit to mention, amongst other obstacles to sociability, the present excessive breadth of fashionable tables, for the purpose of holding, first, the cumbrous ornaments and lights before spoken of; secondly, in some cases the dessert, at the same time with the side dishes; and, lastly, each person's cover, with its appurtenances; so that to speak across the table, and through the intervening objects, is so inconvenient as to be nearly impracticable. To crown all, is the ignorance of what you have to eat, and the impossibility of duly regulating your appetite. To be sure, in many particulars, you may form a tolerably accurate guess, as that, at one season, there will be partridges in the third course, and at another pigeons, in dull routine.

"No wonder that such a system produces many a dreary pause, in spite of every effort to the contrary, and that one is obliged, in self-defence, to crumble bread, sip wine, look at the paintings, if there are any, or, if there are not, blazon the arms on the plates; or, lastly, retreat into one's self in despair, as I have often and often done. When dinner is over, there is no peace till each dish in the dessert has made its circuit, after which the wine moves languidly round two or three times, and (p. 261) then settles for the rest of the evening, and coffee and small talk finish the heartless affair."

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

"I will give you, dear reader, an account of a dinner I have ordered this very day, at Lovegrove's at Blackwall, where, if you have never dined, so much the worse for you. This account will serve as an illustration of my doctrines on dinner-giving better than a long abstract discourse.

"The party will consist of seven men besides myself, and every guest is asked for some reason—upon which good fellowship mainly depends, for people brought together unconnectedly had, in my opinion, better be kept separate. Eight I hold to be the golden number, never to be exceeded without weakening the efficiency of concentration. The dinner is to consist of turtle, followed by no other fish but whitebait, which is to be followed by no other meat but grouse, which are to be succeeded by apple fritters and jelly; pastry on such occasions being quite out of place. With the turtle, of course, there will be punch, with the whitebait champagne, and with the grouse claret; the two former I have ordered to be particularly well iced, and they will all be placed in succession upon the table, so that we can help ourselves as we please. I shall permit no other wines, unless, perchance, a bottle or two of port, if particularly wanted, as I hold a variety of wines a great mistake. With respect to the adjuncts, I shall take care that there is cayenne, with lemons cut in halves, within reach of every one for the turtle, and that brown bread and butter in abundance is set upon the table for the whitebait. The dinner will be followed by ices and a good dessert, after which coffee and one glass of liqueur each and no more."

## (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:—

No. 1 was the only theatre with stalls, which, together with the boxes, were mostly rented for the season. Pit, 8s. 6d. Commence at 8.

No. 2. Commence at 7. Boxes, 7s.; pit, 3s. 6d.; lower gallery, 2s.; upper gallery, 1s. Half-price at 9.

No. 3. Same as Drury Lane.

No. 4. Commence at 7. Boxes, 5s.; pit, 3s.; lower gallery, 2s.; upper gallery, 1s. Half-price, none; but, as an equivalent, the performances were seldom over before 1.

No. 5. No account of prices. Not always open.

No. 6. Commence, 6.45. Boxes, 4s.; pit, 2s.; gallery, 1s. Half-price, 8.30.

No. 7. | Commence, 7. | Prices same as Adelphi. | Half-price, 8.30.
No. 8. | Commence, 6.30. | " | "
No. 9. | " | " | "
No. 11. | " | " | "
No. 14. | " | " | "

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—

"The Papyro Museum,

or 'Casting Pearls before Swine,' recently illustrated at 28, Old Bond Street, and here demonstrated as follows, viz:—

| £ | s. | d.
Dr. to 12 weeks rent of exhibition room | 25 |  | 4 |  | 0 |
"Carpenters' and drapers' bills | 11 |  | 3 |  | 1 |
"Three printers' bills | 11 |  | 2 |  | 0 |
"Advertisements in daily and weekly papers | 27 |  | 4 |  | 6 |
"Salaries of receiver, check-taker, and placard men | 25 |  | 19 |  | 0 |
"Sundries, including carriage, insurance, postage, magnifying-glasses, stationery, &c. | 8 |  | 5 |  | 4 |
| 108 |  | 17 |  | 11 |
Cr. by admissions £71 11s.; catalogues sold £7 1s. | 78 |  | 12 |  | 0 |
Loss on exhibition | £30 |  | 5 |  | 11 |

"Reflect on this, ye directors of public taste and opinion, opera goers, déjeuné doers, and ostentatious patrons of virtu. The exhibition of a single little mediocre picture, with a big name, 'The Chapeau de Paille,'[21] cleared, by your indiscriminate, gregarious appreciation, about twelve hundred guineas! The Tam O'Shanter Stone Works, between three and four thousand! While eighty groups of the most unique and exquisite gems of art in Europe, the achievements of English artists, and wholly devoted to British charity, realizes, by three months exhibition, a loss of £30 5s. 11d.! to say nothing of considerable personal expenses, and the sacrifice of immense mental and physical exertion. If this be not disgusting, if it be not an eternal disgrace, if it fail to rouse deep indignation, and to justify the bitterest contempt, then what can, or ought? Would anomalies so odious have happened in Dublin or Edinburgh? In Paris, Brussels, or Amsterdam? (p. 268) In Berlin, Vienna, Moscow, or St. Petersburgh? In Rome, Naples, Madrid, or even Lisbon? Would such barbarous and heartless apathy to genius and humanity be evinced in Algiers, America, Hayti, or, in short, by any people on earth, but the 'most thinking,' absurd seeking, flea-hunting dilettanti of the British Metropolis? So much for Royal and aristocratic patronage; so much for the schoolmaster at home; his boasted 'march of intellect,' 'penny' intelligence, discernment, patriotism, and benevolence, forsooth!"

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—

"Exhibition of Ancient Costume.

"The exhibition of ancient female costume worn at the courts of Oliver Cromwell and Charles II., which last year was exhibited at Regent Street, has this season been opened at the Somerset Gallery, No. 151, Strand. The dresses which compose this very curious and entertaining collection, were the property of Mrs. (p. 269) Luson, who was well known for her eccentricity and peculiar habits of life. Mrs. Luson died about fourteen years ago, at the almost antediluvian age of 116 years. The dresses now being exhibited, with many others which are in the possession of the proprietor of the exhibition, and also many ancient watches, bracelets, and female ornaments of various descriptions, came into the possession of Mrs. Luson, in consequence of her marriage with Mr. Luson, to whom they descended from Mrs. Bendysh, the daughter of Lady Fleetwood, and, consequently, the granddaughter of the Protector Cromwell. We believe they may be considered as genuine articles, and, as the proprietor affirms them to be, the identical garments worn by the Cromwell family on the occasions of Court festivals."

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.

"From Deutschland I come, with my light wares all laden,
To dear, happy England, in summer's gay bloom;
Then listen, fair ladies, and young pretty maidens,
And buy of a wand'ring Bavarian, a broom.
Buy a broom? Buy a broom?"

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—

"These girls are Flemings. They come to England from the Netherlands, in the spring, and they take their departure with the summer. They have only one shrill twittering note, 'Buy a broom?' sometimes varying it into the singular plural, 'Buy a brooms?' It is a domestic cry: two or three go together, and utter it in company with each other; not in concert, nor to a neighbourhood, and scarcely louder than will attract the notice of an inmate at a parlour window or an open street door, or a lady or two passing in the street. The hair is tightened up in front and at the sides, and so secured or skewered at the top of the head, as if it were constricted by a tourniquet; the little close cap, not larger than an infant's, seems to be put on and tied down by strings fastened beneath the chin, merely as a concealment of the machinery.

"Without a single inflexion of the body—and, for anything that appears to the contrary, it may be incased in tin—from the waist, the form abruptly and boldly bows out like a large beehive, (p. 276) or an arch of carpentry, built downward from above the hips, for the purpose of opening and distending the enormous petticoat into numerous plaits and folds, and therefore allowing the legs to walk without incumbrance. Their pictures are exactly miniatured in an unpainted penny doll of turnery ware, made all round, before and behind, and sold in the toy shops for the amusement of infancy. These Flemish girls are of low stature, with features as formal and old-fashioned as their dress. Their gait and manner answer to both. They carry their brooms, not under the left arm, but upon it, as they would children, upright between the arm and the side, with the heads in front of the shoulder. One, and one only, of the brooms is invariably held in the right hand, and this is elevated with the sharp cry of 'Buy a Broom?' to any one likely to become a purchaser, till it is either purchased or declined.

"The 'brooms' are one entire piece of wood; the sweeping part being slivered from the handle, and the shavings neatly turned over, and bound into the form of a besom. They are bought to dust curtains and hangings with; but good housewives have another use for them; one of them, dipped in fair water, sprinkles the dried clothes in the laundry, for the process of ironing, infinitely better than the hand; it distributes the water more equally and more quickly."

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—

"Innkeeper's Ways.

"I will conclude with a story told me the other day, by a Kentish gentleman, of an innkeeper's 'ways' on the Dover Road. Two gentlemen having dined and stayed all night, called (p. 285) for the bill in the morning, and one of them happened to be within earshot when the waiter went to the landlord to have it made out, and overheard the following colloquy: Waiter: 'Please, sir, the gemmen in No. 5 wants their bill.'—Landlord: 'Very well' (taking down a printed form), 'let me hear what they had.'—Waiter: 'Soup, sir.'—Landlord: 'Soup; very well; what sort was it?'—Waiter: 'Mock turtle.'—Landlord: 'Mock turtle, 3s. Did they make any remark about it?'—Waiter: 'No, sir; only one of them said it was werry good.'—Landlord: 'Did they eat of it twice?'—Waiter: 'Yes, sir.'—Landlord: 'Oh, then, mock turtle, 5s.; now go on.'—Waiter: 'Fried sole and shrimp sauce.'—Landlord: 'Fried sole, 2s.; shrimp sauce, 1s.; 3s. Did they make any remark about that?'—Waiter: 'One of them said that the fish was werry fresh.—Landlord: 'Indeed! then, fried sole, 3s.; shrimp sauce, 1s. 6d.; 4s. 6d. Now go on.'—Waiter: 'Small leg of Welsh mutton, potatoes, and French beans.'—Landlord: 'Mutton, 5s.; potatoes, 1s.; French beans, 5s.; rather early for French beans, isn't it?'—Waiter: 'Yes, sir; both the gemmen remarked that it was werry early.'—Landlord: 'Oh, then, French beans, 10s.'"

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—

"Steam Carriages on Common Roads.

"Some of the advantages to the public from the use of steam on the turnpike roads already begin to show themselves. Previous to the starting of the steam coach between Gloucester and Cheltenham, the fares were four shillings each person—now the public are taken by all the coaches at one shilling per head. On Tuesday morning the steam coach took thirty-three passengers from Cheltenham to Gloucester in fifty minutes."

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:—

"Sufficient evidence has been adduced to convince your Committee—

"1. That carriages can be propelled by steam on common roads at an average rate of ten miles per hour.

"2. That at this rate they have conveyed upwards of fourteen passengers.

"3. That their weight, including engine, fuel, water, and attendants, may be under three tons.

"4. That they can ascend and descend hills of considerable inclination with facility and safety.

"5. That they are perfectly safe for passengers.

"6. That they are not (or need not be, if properly constructed) nuisances to the public.

"7. That they will become a speedier and cheaper mode of conveyance than carriages drawn by horses.

"8. That, as they admit of greater breadth of tire than other carriages, and as the roads are not acted on so injuriously as by the feet of horses in common draught, such carriages will cause less wear of roads than coaches drawn by horses.

"9. That rates of toll have been imposed on steam carriages which would prohibit their being used on several lines of road, were such charges permitted to remain unaltered."

(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

"Steam Omnibus.

"Monday afternoon an omnibus, worked by steam on a new and ingenious principle, was tried on the Paddington Road. The machine altogether does not exceed the space which an ordinary omnibus, with horses attached, would occupy, and the appearance is particularly neat. The body is capable of containing fourteen persons, the engine dividing that from the furnace in the rear. The passengers experience no inconvenience from heat, and, coke being the fuel employed, there is no annoyance from smoke. The engine works on a crank, not on an axle, and the propelling power is applied to the wheels by means of iron chains. The chief recommendation, that which timid persons will consider most, is that there can be no possibility of explosion. The propelling power is equal to fifteen or twenty miles an hour; but, even when the steam is raised to its very highest pressure, there is no risk, the water being deposited in several iron pipes, or what are termed chamber boilers, with a valve to carry off the superfluous steam. The guide, who sits in front, has complete control of the vehicle, and can arrest its progress instantaneously. It is intended to ply regularly from Paddington to the Bank."

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—

"Selling a Wife.

"The following memorandum (says the Stockport Advertiser), drawn upon a 1s. 6d. stamp, will best explain the nature of a bargain between two fellows at a beer shop, in the Hillgate, in this town. Milward is a butcher, and was last week fined before our magistrates for using uneven balances in his trading transactions. The other persons are unknown to us:—

"'I, Booth Milward, bought of William Clayton, his wife, for five shillings, to be delivered on the 25th of March, 1831, to be delivered in a alter at Mr. John Lomases house.

"'William Clayton.
"'Witnesses: Joseph Gordon, G. Wood, George Whalley.'"

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

(p. 298) "Buying and Selling Wives.

"In an evening paper we find the following story: 'A most disgusting and disgraceful scene happened in Smithfield Market on Monday last, which at the present day is of very rare occurrence. About two o'clock in the afternoon a fellow came into the market leading his wife by a halter, and gave her to a drover, desiring him to tie her to the pens and sell her to the best bidder. The woman, who did not appear to be above twenty-five years of age, and not bad looking, suffered herself to be tied up very quietly. A crowd of persons soon gathered round, and a man of rather respectable appearance entered into a negotiation with the drover for the purchase of the wife; and, after some higgling, she was finally knocked down to him for the sum of ten shillings. The money was paid, but the drover refused to release her except on payment of two shillings as his commission for the sale which he had effected. Some confusion took place about the demand, but it was eventually paid, and she was released from the pens, opposite the Half Moon public house, and delivered to her purchaser, who appeared highly pleased with his bargain. The parties adjourned to a neighbouring public house, where the late husband spent the greater part of the money in brandy and water.'"

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:—

"Sale of a Wife by her Husband at Carlyle.

"On Saturday, the 7th instant, the inhabitants of this city witnessed the sale of a wife by her husband, Joseph Thompson, who resides in a small village about three miles from this city. He rents a farm of about forty-two or forty-four acres, and was married at Hexham in the year 1829 to his present wife. She is a spruce, lively, and buxom damsel, apparently not exceeding twenty-two years of age, and appeared to feel a pleasure at the exchange she was about to make. They had no children during their union, and that, together with some family disputes, caused them by mutual agreement to come to the resolution of finally parting. Accordingly the bellman was sent round to give public (p. 299) notice of the sale, which was to take place at twelve o'clock. This announcement attracted the notice of thousands. She appeared above the crowd, standing on a large oak chair, surrounded by many of her friends, with a rope or halter made of straw about her neck. She was dressed in rather a fashionable country style, and appeared to some advantage. The husband, who was also standing in an elevated position near her, proceeded to put her up for sale, and spoke nearly as follows:—

"'Gentlemen, I have to offer to your notice my wife, Mary Ann Thompson, otherwise Williamson, whom I mean to sell to the highest and fairest bidder. Gentlemen, it is her wish, as well as mine to part for ever. She has been to me only a bosom serpent. I took her for my comfort and the good of my house, but she became my tormentor, a domestic curse, a night invasion, and a daily devil. (Great laughter.) Gentlemen, I speak truth from my heart when I say, "May God deliver us from troublesome wives and frolicsome widows!" Avoid them as you would a mad dog, a roaring lion, a loaded pistol, cholera morbus, Mount Etna, or any other pestilential phenomena in nature.

"Now I have shown you the dark side of my wife, and told you her faults and her failings, I will introduce the bright and sunny side of her, and explain her qualifications and her goodness. She can read novels and milk cows; she can laugh and weep with the same ease that you can take a glass of ale when thirsty; indeed, gentlemen, she reminds me of what the poet says of women in general—

"'Heaven gave to women the peculiar grace,
To laugh, to weep, to cheat the human race.'

"She can make butter and scold the maid; she can sing Moore's Melodies, and plait her frills and caps; she cannot make rum, gin, or whisky, but she is a good judge of the quality from long experience in tasting them. I therefore offer her, with all her perfections and imperfections, for the sum of 50s.

"After an hour or two, she was purchased by Henry Mears, a pensioner, for the sum of 20s. and a Newfoundland dog. The happy people immediately left town together, amidst the shouts and huzzas of the multitude, in which they were joined by (p. 300) Thompson, who, with the greatest good humour imaginable, proceeded to put the halter which his wife had taken off round the neck of his Newfoundland dog, and then proceeded to the first public-house, where he spent the remainder of the day."

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—

"Sale of a Wife.

"Monday night a party of doughty neighbours met in a house in New Sneddon to enjoy a tankard or two of reaming swats, and to decide by which of the rival 'best possible instructors' they were, henceforth, to be enlightened. In the course of the discussion, one of them announced his intention of setting up a dram shop, and stated that there was only one article wanting. 'What was that?' 'A wife!' 'A wife!' exclaimed the host—whose name is as the name of the upper part of the garment in which the humble daughters of St. Mirren delight to conceal their beauties—'I will sell you mine for twenty pounds Scots.' Some higgling took place, in the course of which the virtues of the wife shone out with such conspicuous lustre that her price was raised to twenty pounds sterling. This sum the purchaser agreed to pay, a contract was drawn out, and signed by three witnesses, the conditions of sale being that the money was to be tabled, and the transfer completed by next day, at noon.

"Next day came, and found the seller, the purchaser, and their witnesses once more assembled, discussing at once the terms of agreement and a can of grog. Some of the witnesses seemed to think that the joke was carried far enough, and proposed that the whole proceedings should be nullified on the host forfeiting £1, to be 'melted,' in the house; but the host was too well up to trap (p. 301) to be wheedled out of his £20, and saddled with his wife to boot; he therefore persisted in the fulfilment of the contract, and, as the purchaser was equally averse to a rue bargain, arrangements were put in operation to complete the transaction.

"Meanwhile, the wife, whose good qualities may be judged of by the great rise which took place in her price, while the terms were under discussion, got a hint of the negotiations that were pending, and, being a good deal nettled that her opinion should not have been asked in an affair in which she was so nearly concerned, sallied out to a neighbouring court, known by the name of 'Little Ireland,' and sounded the tocsin of alarm. A much smaller matter than the sale of a wife was enough to agitate 'Little Ireland.' With ire akin to that which animated the bosom of 'Cutty Sark' and her compeers, as they sallied out of Alloway Kirk to avenge themselves on Tam o'Shanter and his mare Meg, sallied out the daughters of Little Ireland to avenge the insult thus offered to one of the best half of creation. Every damsel who could wag a tongue—mercy on us, how numerous a class!—every one who could wield a poker, fender, or pair of tongs, flew to arms, and resolved on a simultaneous attack; while the high contracting parties, and their assistant negotiators were within, discussing terms, wholly ignorant of the storm that was brewing around them. How the victory would have gone it is no way difficult to predict; but before active hostilities commenced, the police arrived, and conveyed the negotiators to the office, where they were detained until the vast crowds which had collected had dispersed, and until security had been given that appearance would be made next day. There the whole party were brought before the magistrates, and looked exceedingly foolish on the occasion. No such an affair as the sale of a wife seems ever to have been heard of in these northern latitudes, and, as the fiscal knew from the parricide case of old, that to prescribe a punishment for a crime was a powerful means to get the crime introduced, he resolved not to be privy to such a doing, and, therefore, restricted his charge to a breach of the peace. The magistrate did not find that a breach of the peace could be brought home to the parties; and, after animadverting in severe terms on the disgraceful nature of such proceedings, and addressing the salesman and purchaser in terms which, we dare say, they will not soon forget, he dismissed (p. 302) them from the bar. The purchaser, who is verging on three score years and ten, seemed to have come into court predetermined to appeal, and declared that a bargain was a bargain; but, with the whisky still buzzing in his head, he appealed at a wrong time, and tabled his shilling before the sentence of dismissal was pronounced."

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—

"Sale of a Wife.

"Yesterday morning, between ten and eleven o'clock, one of those disgraceful scenes, the sale of a wife, took place at the New Islington Cattle Market. It appears that at about nine o'clock a man about forty-two years of age, of shabby genteel exterior, led a well-looking young woman, about thirty years of age, with a halter round her waist, to Smithfield Market; and, having tied her up, was about to offer her to the highest bidder; but, several persons interfering, it was agreed to go forthwith to Islington Market to accomplish their object; and, in order to expedite the matter, they jumped into a hackney coach, and were driven off at full speed, to the spot where the marriage knot was to be dissolved. They were followed from Smithfield by a young man of plausible appearance, who on seeing the wife tied up at Islington (p. 303) Market for sale, bid 5s. for her, but he was outbid by several persons, but, subsequently, became purchaser of the lot for 26s., and conveyed her home in a coach to his lodgings. The other man walked home, whistling merrily, declaring he had got rid of a troublesome, noisy woman, and that it was the happiest day of his life. Surely the police ought to have interfered to prevent such a disgusting outrage upon Society."

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:—

"31A, Park Street, Grosvenor Square,
"Tuesday, May 5.

"Sir,

"As you have established yourself as the champion of your father, I have the honour to request your notice to a very scurrilous attack which your father has made upon my conduct and character.

"Had Mr. O'Connell, according to the practice observed among gentlemen, appealed to me respecting the accuracy of the reported expressions, before he indulged in offensive comments (p. 308) upon them, he would, if he can be influenced by a sense of justice, have felt that such comments were unnecessary. He has not thought fit to do so, and he leaves me no alternative but to request that you, his son, will resume your vicarious duties of yielding satisfaction for the insults which your father has too long lavished with impunity upon his political opponents.

"I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant,
"D'Israeli.

"Morgan O'Connell, Esq., M.P."

To this the younger O'Connell replied—

"9, Clarges Street, Tuesday, May 5.

"Sir,

"I have this day received a letter from you, stating that a scurrilous attack has been made upon you by my father, without giving me any information as to the expressions complained of, or when or where they were used, and which I now hear of for the first time.

"I deny your right to call upon me in the present instance, and I am not answerable for what my father may say. I called on Lord Alvanley for satisfaction, because I conceived he had purposely insulted my father, by calling a meeting at Brookes's for the purpose of expelling him from the club, he being at the time absent in Ireland.

"When I deny your right to call upon me in the present instance, I also beg leave, most unequivocably, to deny your right to address an insulting letter to me, who am almost personally unknown to you, and unconscious of ever having given you the slightest offence. I must, therefore, request that you will withdraw the letter, as, without that, it will be impossible for me to enter into an explanation.

"I have the honour, etc.,
"M. O'Connell.

"B. D'Israeli, Esq."

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—

"I expect to be a representative of the people before the Repeal of the Union. We shall meet at Philippi, and rest assured that, confident in a good cause, and in some energies which have been not altogether improved, I will seize the first opportunity of inflicting upon you a castigation which will make you at the same time remember and repent the insults that you have lavished upon

"Benjamin D'Israeli."

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—

"O'Connell would be irresistible were it not for the blots on his character—the contribution in Ireland for his support, and his refusal to give satisfaction to the man he is still coward enough to attack. They may say what they will of duelling; it is the great preserver of the decencies of society. The old school, which made a man responsible for his words, was the better. Then, in O'Connell's case, he had not made his vow against duelling when Peel challenged him. He accepted the challenge, and Peel went to Dover, on his way to France, where they were to meet; O'Connell pleaded his wife's illness, and delayed till the law interfered. Some other Irish patriot, about the same time, refused a challenge on account of the illness of his daughter, and a Dublin wit made a good epigram on the two—

"'Some men, with a horror of slaughter,
Improve on the Scripture command;
And honour their wife and their daughter,
That their days may be long in the land.'"

(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.

"Distressing Duel.

"Yesterday morning, between three and four o'clock, a meeting took place in a field near St. John's Wood between the Hon. Henry D—— and Mr. Robert ——. The parties are nearly related to each other, and the misunderstanding arose in consequence of an elopement of a distressing nature. The parties had taken their stations and were upon the point of firing, when a cabriolet dashed up the adjacent lane at a tremendous speed, and a lady, in a wild and hurried manner, rushed up the field towards the party, but ere she could succeed in reaching them the word 'Fire!' was given, and one of the combatants, Mr. Henry D——, fell. The lady, who proved to be the Hon. Mrs. D——, perceiving this, uttered the most heartrending shrieks, and, rushing to the spot, accused herself of being the murderer of her husband. The gentlemen present had the greatest difficulty in forcing her from the spot. A surgeon in attendance at first pronounced the hon. gentleman's wound to be fatal; but, subsequently, a consultation of medical men having been held at the hon. gentleman's residence, some slight hopes are entertained of his recovery. It is said that the unfortunate cause of the catastrophe has been in a state of delirium since the event, and has twice made an attempt to lay violent hands on herself."

## (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—

"Hoax on Lord Rolle.

"A few days since notices were sent to Lord Rolle that Mr. Swing was in his neighbourhood; that on a given night there would be farmhouses pulled down, ricks of corn burnt, and threshing-machines destroyed; that the labourers would assemble in organized masses; in fact, the neighbourhood of Bicton would be subject to Swing law. Lord Rolle very wisely received this advice with proper caution. All the Preventive Service men from Salterton and Exmouth, and all the crew of the cutter in the harbour were summoned to Bicton, where a large quantity of beef and good cheer was provided. The Preventive men ate the Baron's beef, and all seemed to enjoy the good cheer of the evening, which was kept up with great hilarity. On that very night a large quantity of brandy was landed on the coast. It is suspected that one or two of the smugglers got themselves sworn in as special constables, and enjoyed the baronial munificence, as spies, for the purpose of keeping the Preventive men quiet, while their companions were running, undisturbed, their cargo on the beach."

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

"Great Seizure of Silks.

"Information was a short time ago received by His Majesty's Board of Customs that it was contemplated to smuggle a very large quantity of silks, and the necessary steps were taken to counteract the efforts of the adventurers, who were, we understand, men of high repute for extensive dealings in the trade. The movements of certain parties were watched both by land and by water, in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, and in several seaport towns. At length Mr. Donne, an officer of the Customs, who was for some time occupied in the search, received information in the early part of last week that a lodgment of the expected property had been effected in the city of London, at the houses of (p. 315) some of the first people in the trade. It was not, however, stated that the leading men in the establishments were aware that the goods were contraband.

"Mr. Donne despatched, after having ascertained beyond a doubt that the silks had been warehoused without the payment of the duty, three officers of the Excise to three houses, one of which is in Newgate Street, another in a lane near Cheapside, and the third in a court in Fleet Street. At three o'clock each of these officers contrived to lay his hands upon silks of a very valuable description, upon which the duty had never been paid. The value of the seizure is estimated at not less than £10,000. It had been thought proper by the purchasers in the first house to take in a little brandy, without going through the usual ceremony of paying the duty, and two kegs of very fine Cognac were found on the premises and carried off by the officers, along with the more valuable goods.

"The silks were, it has been ascertained, smuggled from France; but no clue has as yet been found as to the manner in which they had been landed. They were packed up with great care in twenty-four large cases, which were evidently made in this country, and are such as Manchester goods are usually packed in. Upon being taken to the King's warehouses they were unpacked and examined. The gauzes are of a most beautiful kind. The officers will have the whole of the profits arising from this enormous seizure, the King having some time ago, as appears from the Order of the Lords of the Treasury issued at the commencement of his reign, given up all claim to any advantages arising from seizures of this description."

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

"According to the information laid before the Commissioners of the Customs, the mode of proceeding seems to have been this:—the steam vessel from Calais which brought the goods, arriving generally after night had set in, and the navigation of the Pool hazardous, was moored at some spot lower down than its place of destination, thus deferring the making the entries at the Custom (p. 316) House until the following morning. A waterman, who was regularly employed with a barge on the river, was engaged by the parties to lie off the steam vessel, which he was only to approach on a signal previously concerted. He then received on board his barge various packages, which he secured by locking up in the cabin. Consultations were held at the time when the first of these transactions took place, upon the mode of taking these packages ashore least likely to excite suspicion. After various plans were proposed, the expedient was resorted to of using wine hampers, which were landed at one of the stairs in Thames Street, and carried by porters to the warehouses for which they were intended. Another waterman, in addition to the first, was associated in these transactions, and both of them, if the case had proceeded, were to have been witnesses on the part of the Crown. It is not a little remarkable that these men were led to tell all they knew in the business through some advantage taken of them, as they conceived, in paying them for a smaller number of parcels than they had delivered.

"After two or three of these transactions had been completed, it began to be considered no longer safe to land the parcels within the precincts of the City; but a place higher up the river, near Battersea, was resorted to; and, as in this case the distance was much more considerable, the goods were carried home in carts. At length, when the number of transactions had amounted to ten or twelve, the bargemen seemed to have thought the affair ripe for exposure, and determined on making it. They gave information of the most precise kind respecting a landing intended to take place, in the beginning of August last, at the Battersea station. Persons were employed in different places for the purpose, and a cart was watched from and to a warehouse in the City belonging to Leaf and Co., at the door of which the goods were seized by a proper officer, and notice of it was given to Mr. Leaf, who happened to be at home at the time. They were afterwards taken to the Custom House. The total valuation of the goods taken on this occasion was something under £700.

"A few days afterwards information was given to the same officer that great bustle existed in the warehouse above-mentioned, and that persons were engaged there in packing up and removing a quantity of goods in a great hurry. These goods were traced to (p. 317) three different places, and seized as foreign, and not having paid the duty. On examining the packages, they were found to be filled up in a most slovenly manner, through haste, and so as to damage some of the goods—gauze ribands, for example. The whole were returned into the Exchequer, appraised at £5460, exclusive of the duty, and were claimed by the parties whose property they were, on the ground, either that they were British, or that they had actually paid the duty as foreign. They also brought actions for damages against all the officers concerned in the seizure of the goods."

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—

"Margate Smuggling.

"An extraordinary discovery has been made here, in the last week, by the officers of the Custom House, which shows the persevering and enterprising spirit of the smugglers. The officers went to search a house in the occupation of a man named Cook, at the back of Lion Place, near the Fort in Margate, and discovered in a room below a secret entrance, just large enough to admit a man crawling upon his knees. The officers proceeded downwards upon an inclined plane towards the seashore, to the distance of about two hundred yards, passing under several houses at the depth of many feet below the surface of the ground, until they reached the lower entrance, which opens on the north-west side of the Clifton Baths. The mouth of this entrance was boarded over and covered with chalk and earth, rammed down in such a manner as to conceal it completely. There were found, in (p. 318) the interior of the cliff, several trucks on wheels and implements for the conveyance of smuggled goods through the tunnel to Cook's house. The work, which it is calculated must have engaged two men at least eighteen months in cutting it, and must have cost, in labour, from £100 to £200, was just finished, and is reported to have been paid for by a great silk mercer and riband merchant in London.

"It is fortunate for the Revenue, as well as for the silk trade, that such a discovery has been made, as the whole plan of operation was so well projected that, whilst the hide remained only known to the smugglers, they might at any time, on dark nights, in the short space of an hour, have smuggled many thousand pounds' worth of property and carried it off in safety. It is whispered among the sailors on the pier that, if the officers had not been a little too eager in the pursuit, they might, within a week, when the dark nights came on again, have made an immense seizure; but that now they have entirely defeated their own object, because not a vestige of any contraband article was yet to be found upon the premises. This is the second subterraneous tunnel which has been dug under the same property within two years, and the second time of the officers being defeated by their eagerness to grasp so large a prize. It is but justice to the lessee of this singularly constructed property to say that not the least suspicion is entertained by the Revenue Officers of any connivance on his part, he having given them duplicate keys of the subterraneous excavations and baths, during the winter months when the property lies unoccupied, and cautioned them that, unless some of the Revenue Officers were stationed on the premises throughout the night, it was impossible to prevent smuggling."

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.

"Smuggling.

"The examination of the eight smugglers that were captured by the Vigilant Revenue cutter on the 1st and 4th inst., took place before the magistrates at Chatham, on Wednesday last; and, being found guilty of a breach of the revenue laws, were convicted, and, being disposed of, the cutter sailed for her station on Thursday. On the following day she made another seizure of 142 half ankers of foreign spirits, which were delivered to the Customs at Rochester, on Saturday. This seizure is the fourth that has been brought by the Vigilant into this port within twelve days, each seizure being the work of a separate cruise; that is, the cutter sailed to sea, made the capture, and returned to the port—the time including the cutter's detention for the trial of the smugglers.

"Smuggling has recently become much more prevalent on the coasts of Hampshire and Sussex than it has been for some months. This is to be ascribed, we are told, to the almost total absence of cruisers in the Channel. If so, where are our Revenue cruisers, or, what are they doing? If the country can afford to employ but few vessels, these few should be well-disposed and kept actively at work.

"The Mary smack, of twenty tons, with two men belonging to this port, was seized in this harbour on Friday, by Mr. Morgan of the coastguard, having a false bottom containing sixty-three half ankers, fifty quarter ankers, and fourteen jars of spirits, with four canisters of tea, regularly built outside her original bottom, and executed in such a complete manner that it would have been impossible to have discovered it but by information, which we understood was received from the Board."

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:—

"Capture of a Smuggler.

"A seizure, more valuable than has been made in this and the adjacent counties for many years, was effected in the Crouch river in the course of last week. Captain Dodd, master of the coal brig Nancy, of Newcastle, sold his pretended cargo of coal to a merchant with whom he had frequently traded, and was proceeding up the river to his destination, when the brig was boarded by Mr. Read, chief boatman of the Crouch guard station, who, observing something unusual in the conduct of the master, and that he left the vessel in an abrupt manner, his suspicions were excited, and he immediately set about an inspection, which led to a most important discovery. The coals at the top were found to be but a thin covering to a cargo of contraband goods, which, with the brig and crew, were immediately taken possession of and brought round to Collier's reach, where the cargo is now unloading; but, the coals being so mixed with the smuggled goods, present considerable difficulties, as it is calculated that there are five hundred packages of spirits and dried goods. Those already landed and safely deposited at the Custom House at Maldon, some of which were found secreted even in the fore and maintops, and consisting of spirits and tobacco, are estimated to be worth £1500; and it is expected that the whole cargo, with the brig itself, will bring from £3000 to £5000."

## (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:—

"We are sorry to say that trade in this district continues in a very depressed state; and the consequence is, a scarcity of employment and low wages for the operatives, amongst whom, we regret to observe, distress prevails to a most deplorable extent."—Manchester Courier.

"At Manchester it is stated there are fifty thousand hands out of employ, and most of the large establishments are working only half-time. At Wigan, which is not a large place, there are four thousand weavers totally unable to get work. Unless a stimulus is shortly given to commerce, persons who have the means of forming the most correct opinion say that half a million of hands (p. 325) at least will be idle in the manufacturing districts in the very worst time of the year."—Morning Chronicle.

"The pressure upon manufacturers and commerce has at last reached our county. Within a short time several extensive failures in the 'How of Fife,' along the Leven, as well as in the towns upon the coast, have taken place."—Fifeshire Journal.

"A meeting convened by the circular of several gentlemen was held on Friday, at the Public Office, for the purpose of considering what measures could be adopted sufficient to relieve the present appalling state of commercial distress. At this meeting it was universally admitted that the number of unemployed workmen, and the consequent distress which prevails, call for the adoption of prompt and efficient measures; and resolutions were passed expressive of the deep sympathy felt by the meeting for their suffering fellow-townsmen and their families."—Birmingham Journal.

"We regret that we cannot announce any improvement in the trade of this town. There has been one failure of a respectable lace concern since our last. The number of operatives employed by public subscription on the roads is nearly a thousand. The Relief Committee, after anxious deliberation, came to the decision on Monday evening that, in future, the wages allowed could be only 8s. a week on day work."—Nottingham Review.

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.

"Sir,

"The evening of my first concert in the King's Theatre is now so near, that I feel the duty of announcing it myself, to implore the favour of the English nation, which honours the arts as much as I respect it.

"Accustomed, in all the nations of the Continent, to double the ordinary prices of the theatres where I have given my concerts, (p. 335) and little instructed in the customs of this capital, in which I present myself for the first time, I did believe that I could do the same; but, informed by many of the journals that the prices already established there are higher than those on the Continent, and having myself seen that the observation was just, I second, willingly, the desire of a public, the esteem and good will of which I ambition as my first recompense.

"Paganini."

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.

"A Note of Enquiry, addressed to Paganini.

"Grant me reply, great Fiddler, to a word
Of question by my sympathy preferr'd;
Ah! do not fail:—
This wound that dooms thy fiddle to be dumb,
Which part of thy extraordinary thumb
Doth it assail?
Doth it at side, or joint, its mischief make?
Or is it, like the money thou dost take,
Down on the nail?"

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

"The personal appearance of Paganini is remarkable. He is a tall, thin man, with features rather emaciated, pale complexion, a sharp, aquiline nose, and a keen eye, the expression of which is greatly heightened when he is animated by his performance. His hair, which is dark, is worn long behind, and combed off the forehead and temples, in a manner which gives an air of great simplicity to his countenance. He seems to be about fifty years of age.

(p. 336) "The enthusiasm which his performance excited last night among the audience certainly surpassed anything of the kind within these walls. Every tour de force and striking passage was not only applauded, but cheered by the whole audience, and some of the variations were encored. At the end of every performance, and especially after the last, the applause, cheering, and waving of handkerchiefs and hats, altogether presented a most extraordinary scene. Foreigners, who have been present at his concerts in several other parts of Europe, remarked that the applause bestowed, and the enthusiasm excited last night, were greater than they had ever witnessed before."

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.

"I cam from ole Kentucky,
A long time ago,
Where first I larn to wheel about,
And jump Jim Crow.
Chorus. Wheel about, and turn about,
And do jis so,
Eb'ry time I wheel about,
I jump Jim Crow.

"I us'd to take him fiddle,
Eb'ry morn and afternoon,
And charm the ole Buzzard,
And dance to the Racoon.
Wheel about, etc.

"I landed fust at Liverpool,
Dat place of ships and docks,
I strutted down Lord Street,
And ask'd de price of stocks.
Wheel about, etc.

(p. 340) "I paid my fare den up to Town,
On de coach to cut a dash,
De axletree soon gave way,
And spilt us wid a smash.
Wheel about, etc.

"I lighted den upon my head,
All in de nassy dirt,
Dey all thought dat I war dead,
But I laughed and wasn't hurt.
Wheel about, etc.

"Dis head, you know, am pretty tick,
Cause dere it make a hole,
On de dam macadamis road,
Much bigger dan a bowl.
Wheel about, etc.

"When I got into Lunnon,
Dey took me for a savage,
But I was pretty well behaved,
So I 'gaged with Massa Davidge.
Wheel about, etc.

"Dem young Jim Crows about de streets,
More like a Raven rader,
Pray good people don't mistake,
Indeed, I'm not dere fader.
Wheel about, etc.

"Dem urchins what sing my song,
Had better mind dar books,
For anyhow dey can't be Crows,
You see d'ar only Rooks.
Wheel about, etc."

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—

"Opera Charges.

"The following sums are paid nightly to the performers at the King's Theatre: Pasta, £200, Taglioni, £120, Rubini, £100, Tamburini, £100, Donzelli, £50, Zuchelli, £50. Madame Pasta will receive £3500 for the season; and the amount payable to the principal characters alone, on the rising of the curtain, is above £1000."

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:—

"Marlborough Street.—A young man was brought into this office a few days ago, charged with stealing and disposing of, on his own account, and for his own use, the casts of several figures in plaster of Paris and other compositions, the property of Mr. Papera, the celebrated Italian modeller, in whose service the prisoner lived as journeyman, and the offence charged being clearly supported by evidence, the young man was fully committed for trial.

"Yesterday Mr. Papera applied again to the sitting magistrate, for advice how to act in a case in which he had to charge the young man in prison with an offence of much more enormous nature than that for which he had been committed to take his trial.

(p. 343) "Since the investigation of the former case, Mr. Papera said, he had discovered that several of 'Madame Vestris's legs' were exhibited for sale in the shop windows of various artists about town, and on an inspection of these legs, he immediately recognized them as his property, and they must have been stolen from his premises by the prisoner and sold by him.

"The magistrate inquired what sort of legs they were?

"Mr. Papera said they were casts of Madame Vestris's leg to a little above the knee and including the foot.

"The magistrate asked if such casts could not have been made by other artists, so as to render it difficult for Mr. Papera to identify them as belonging to him.

"Mr. Papera said it was impossible these casts could have been made by any other artist, because he was the only person to whom Madame Vestris had ever 'stood' to have a cast taken of her leg, and from that cast he had made one mould or model, and only one, and that was always kept with the greatest care under lock and key, except when required to be used in his model room, so that no person could possibly obtain access to it, except some one in his employ; and, as for any attempt at imitation, that was impossible to do with success, for so beautiful and perfect was the symmetry of the original, that it was from it alone the various natural niceties of the complete whole could be acquired and to perfection formed.

"The magistrate asked Mr. Papera if he kept these legs ready made in his establishment, and if in that state they were stolen by the prisoner?

"Mr. Papera said no; they were too rare and valuable an article to be kept ready made in the ordinary way of common shop legs, and were only made to 'order'—that is, when especially ordered by artists or amateurs."

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:—

"Mansion House.—Yesterday, a soldier, named George M'Willen, aged twenty-one years, was brought before the Lord Mayor, charged by a soldier with having deserted from the 77th Regiment.

"William Rogers, a private in the army, stated that the prisoner had admitted to him that he had deserted from his regiment.

"The Lord Mayor (to the prisoner): Did you acknowledge that you deserted?

"Prisoner: Yes, my lord, but not till he told me I was a deserter; I was not quite such a fool.

"The Lord Mayor: Why did you desert from your regiment?

"Prisoner: Because I was tired of flogging. I am only twenty-one years of age, and I have received nine hundred lashes. (Here were some expressions of surprise and disgust.)

"The Lord Mayor: Did I hear you rightly? Did you say nine hundred lashes?

"Prisoner: No doubt of it, my lord.

"Mr. Hobler: It is impossible, if you received nine hundred lashes, you can stand up so straight.

"Prisoner: I received them all, and I can show the marks. It is true I received them at different times; but I've had them all.

"The Lord Mayor: And what have you been doing with yourself since you deserted?

"Prisoner: I have been mining in Cornwall. I thought it would be the best way of getting out of danger by going underground.

"The Lord Mayor: And why didn't you stay in Cornwall? Why did you come to London?

"Prisoner: I don't know why I left Cornwall; but I was looking for work when I was taken up for deserting. I am able for any sort of labour.

"The Lord Mayor: Why were you flogged?

(p. 349) "Prisoner: I'd rather not say anything about that; I shall soon have to answer again.

"Mr. Hobler: You unfortunate fellow, you must have been a great violator of discipline, or you could not have been so dreadfully punished.

"The Prisoner (shaking his head): I've had my share.

"The Lord Mayor: Tell me, are you a sober man?

"Prisoner: No, my lord; I can't say I am.

"The Lord Mayor: By how many Courts Martial have you been tried?

"Prisoner: By four. In Belfast I was sentenced to receive 500 lashes, but they only gave me 300; they forgave me 200. In Londonderry they gave me 250. He mentioned two other places, in one of which he received 200, and in the other 150. He had deserted eight months ago, and had been a miner ever since, and the very first day he ventured to town he was apprehended.

"The Lord Mayor: You must be incorrigible, or you would never have been so dreadfully punished. I cannot help committing you."

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

"I saw two men who were tried for desertion, and their sentence was to receive 500 lashes round the fleet. There is, perhaps, nothing on the face of the earth so revolting to human nature, as this most brutal of all outrages upon the feelings of gallant tars under such a sentence. The day the man is to be punished is known by the admiral making a general signal to copy orders. A midshipman from each ship goes on board the admiral's ship with a book, and copies the order, which states that, at a certain hour, on such a day, a boat, manned and armed, is to be sent from the ship from which the man is sentenced to be punished. On the day appointed, the signal is made from the admiral, for the fleet to draw into a line. The hands are then turned up in each ship, and every officer appears with his cocked hat and sidearms, and the marines are drawn up in the gangway, with muskets and fixed bayonets.

(p. 350) "The ship launch to which the delinquent belongs is hoisted out, and rigged up for the bloody tragedy. In this boat are two boatswain's mates, with their cats, together with the surgeon and master-at-arms. The poor creature is now taken out of irons, in which he has been confined both before and after his sentence, and brought down from the deck into the boat. The master-at-arms next desires the mates to tie him up; he is then stripped, and a blanket thrown over his shoulders. The boats of each ship then make their painters fast, one ahead of the other, and thus form a long line of boats. The captain now looks over the gangway, the master-at-arms reads the infernal sentence, and the quantity of lashes the victim is to receive at each ship. The captain calls the boatswain's mate, and says, 'Go on, sir, and do your duty.'

"The blanket is now removed from the shoulders of the poor fellow, and then commences the fiend-like exhibition. After the victim has received one dozen, the captain tells the other boatswain's mate to commence, and after the poor fellow has received the next dozen the blanket is again thrown over his shoulders, and the boats tow the launch alongside the next ship, the drummer and fifer playing the Rogue's March. The same ceremony is repeated from ship to ship, until the surgeon pronounces that the man can receive no more without endangering life; and woe be to the tyrant who dares to inflict one lash more after the surgeon has spoken. I must here remark that I never knew an instance of a surgeon in the navy being a tyrant; on the contrary, both he and his assistants are always respected for their tender regard for the sick under their care. After this degrading and cruel punishment the man is again towed to his ship and helped on board; he is next sent into the sick-bay, his back anointed in order to heal it, and, in case he has not received all his punishment, to enable him again to be tortured. When a man has been flogged round the fleet he is of no further service, his muscles are contracted, and he is no longer an able man."

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:—

"Some useful papers have been printed by order of the House of Commons, exhibiting by a clear and distinct table the difference of expense attendant on the transport of convicts to New South Wales, as compared with the cost of their retention and employment on board of hulks in this country and in Bermuda.

"By a return for the years 1820 to 1829 inclusive, it appears that, deducting from the gross expense the sums earned by the labour of the convict, the cost of feeding, clothing, and maintaining each individual, together with that of the establishment, and of repairing the hulks, did not, in the course of last year, exceed £3 17s. 4-3/4d. per man.

(p. 352) "The expense of transporting convicts to New South Wales presents a very unfavourable view of that method of treatment, miscalled punishment, as compared with detention and hard labour on board the hulks. The official returns of 1828 give, for the charge of carrying out each male, £26 18s. 6d.; for each female, £34 8s. 6-3/4d. In 1829, for each male, £25 15s. 9-3/4d.; for each female, £27 12s. 6-1/4d."

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—

"To such a pitch has this system arrived, that the streets of Sydney are, literally, almost as crowded with carriages of every class as Cheapside, or the Strand, in London; carriages not only conveying, but being the property of emancipists, and convicts assigned to their wives.

"A London thief, of any notoriety, after having been a short time in Sydney, would scorn to place himself or his assignee wife in so mean a vehicle as a gig; nothing less than a carriage and pair is commensurate with the rank in felonry to which they have arisen in Australia.

"A better idea of the effect of all this upon a stranger cannot be conveyed than by the following anecdote of an officer who visited New South Wales on leave of absence from his regiment in India.

"Having gone with a friend in a gig from Sydney to the races at Paramatta, they were passed on the road by many genteel equipages, including close carriages, curricles, and landaus.

"In answer to the stranger's questions, his companion informed him that one brilliant 'set out' belonged to Sam Such-a-one, who had been a convict, but was now a free man and a man of fortune; that another was the property of a convict who kept a draper's shop in Sydney, but was assigned to his wife, who had brought out with her a large sum of money; that a third belonged to a ticket-of-leave man, who had obtained that indulgence almost immediately after his arrival in the colony—and so on.

"At the racecourse, where all the 'beauty and fashion' of (p. 354) felonry was assembled, the stranger's astonishment was complete at the number of instances in which he obtained similar answers.

"After some graver reflections on so singular an exhibition, he ironically remarked that he thought he had better return as soon as possible to India for the purpose of there committing some crime that should subject him to a short sentence of transportation; for it really seemed to him that that was the best way of getting on in the world!"

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

"Things are differently managed now, and when a transport ship arrives at Sydney, all the madams on board occupy the few days which elapse before their landing in preparing to produce the most dazzling effect at their descent upon the Australian shores.

"With rich silk dresses, bonnets a la mode, ear pendants three inches long, gorgeous shawls and splendid veils, silk stockings, kid gloves, and parasols in hand, dispensing sweet odours from their profusely perfumed forms, they disembark, and are assigned as servants and distributed to the expectant settlers.

"On the very road to their respective places of assignment the women are told of the easy retirement of the factory, and advised to get themselves sent there, without having to obtain the consent of an assignee master.

"Offers of marriage are made to some of them from the waysides; and at their new habitations they are besieged by suitors.

"The hapless settler who expected a servant, able, or, at least, willing to act perhaps as house and dairymaid, finds he has received quite a princess.

"Her highness, with her gloved and delicate fingers, can do no sort of work!

"Attempts are made to break her in, but in vain. 'If you don't like me, send me to the factory,' is the common retort; and the master, having no alternative, takes her before a Bench of magistrates, by whom she is returned to Government, and conveyed to the factory accordingly.

(p. 355) "The author, amongst the favours of this kind that have been conferred upon himself, once received a Dulcinea who, in addition to her other finery, brought such a cargo of hair, tooth and nail brushes, Macassar and other hair oils, otto of roses and botanical creams, cosmetics and scented soaps, that she might have commenced as a dealer in perfumery. She would have spent half her time at her toilette, and the rest in playing off the airs of a fine lady! She was quite indignant at not being allowed an exclusive dressing-room; and the more so as the dear doctor, during the passage, had considered her much too delicate to endure any sort of hardship, and had been so kind and considerate as to insist upon her using two kinds of tooth brush, lest the hardness of that first applied should injure the enamel of her teeth!"

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.

## (p. 356) BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

- A Ballade of the Scottyshe King.
- Chap Books of the Eighteenth Century.
- Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne.
- The Adventures of Captain John Smith.
- Humour, Wit, and Satire of the Seventeenth Century.
- English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon First.
- Old Times.
- The Dawn of the Nineteenth Century.
- The Voiage and Travayle of Sir John Maundeville.
- A Century of Ballads.
- The Fleet, its River, Prison, and Marriages.
- The Legendary History of the Cross.
- Men, Maidens, and Manners a Hundred Years Ago.
- Romances of Chivalry.
- Modern Street Ballads.
- Curious Creatures in Zoology.
- Social England under the Regency.
- Eighteenth Century Waifs.
- Drinks of the World.
- The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood.
- Charles Letts's Date Book and Chronological Diary.
- Lord Mayor's Show in the Olden Time.
- Real Sailor Songs.
- "Varia."
- History of the Lottery in England.
- Cassell's Social Life in England (partly).
- A Righte Merrie Christmasse!
- Hyde Park from Domesday Book to Date.
- When William IV. was King.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.

## Notes

1: The "Greville Memoirs," edit. 1875, vol. ii. p. 23.

2: Now on exhibition at Madame Tussaud's Waxworks show.

3: "The Greville Memoirs," vol. ii. edit. 1875.

4: Wellington.

5: Times, July 12th.

6: Louis Philippe.

7: This engine may now be seen in the Patent Museum, South Kensington.

8: Times, September 7, 1831, p. 3, col. 1.

9: Defacing an old Great Seal is a very perfunctory performance. The two halves are slightly tapped with a hammer, and the seal is, by a fiction, supposed to be so defaced as to be incapable of being used again.

10: I cannot reconcile these dates. The King prorogued Parliament on October 20th, whilst there is no doubt that the attack on Apsley House took place on the 11th, for it is mentioned in the parliamentary reports of the 12th.

11: Glegg's "Life of Wellington," edit. 1864, p. 375.

12: His personal property was sworn under £200,000, but his real estate amounted to £150,000 more.

13: Gronow probably intimates the time when the interior was redecorated in 1849, and opened for the Military, Naval, and County Service, but was closed again in 1851.

14: See Sir C. Hanbury Williams' Poems.

15: This, luckily, was not the case, as it is still in keeping at the House of Lords.

16: Academia Artis Pictoriæ Noribergæ, p. 274.

17: Sir Robert Peel.

18: The King.

19: The first boat race between the two Universities was on June 10th, 1829, from Hambledon Lock to Henley. Oxford won by five or six lengths.

20: A debate on church rates, in which the majority was only five.

21: Now in the National Gallery: bought by the trustees from the late Sir Robert Peel.

22: Tom Hood notices this steam carriage in his poem of "Conveyancing"—

"Instead of journeys, people now
May go upon a Gurney,
With steam to do the horses' work,
By powers of attorney;

Tho' with a load, it may explode,
And you may all be undone!
And find you're going up to heaven,
Instead of up to London."

23: As applied to tailors, "cabbage" means the remnants of cloth stolen in making up garments. The "goose" is the large iron used for pressing seams, etc.

24: The reader can find others in the Times of March 18, 1833; February 1, and November 2, 1836; and February 9, 1837.

## Transcriber's note.

Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all other inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling has been maintained.

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