regular time; and the cries for Mr. Kemble became so loud, that the
manager thought proper to obey the summons. Amid all these scenes of
uproar he preserved his equanimity, and was never once betrayed into
any expression of petulance or anger. With some difficulty he obtained
a hearing. He entered into a detail of the affairs of the theatre,
assuring the audience at the same time of the solicitude of the
proprietors to accommodate themselves to the public wish. This was
received with some applause, as it was thought at first to manifest a
willingness to come back to the old prices, and the pit eagerly waited
for the next sentence, that was to confirm their hopes. That sentence
was never uttered, for Mr. Kemble, folding his arms majestically, added,
in his deep tragic voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I wait here to know
what you want!" Immediately the uproar was renewed, and became so
tremendous and so deafening, that the manager, seeing the uselessness of
further parley, made his bow and retired.
A gentleman then rose in the boxes and requested a hearing. He obtained
it without difficulty. He began by inveighing in severe terms against
the pretended ignorance of Mr. Kemble, in asking them so offensively
what they wanted, and concluded by exhorting the people never to cease
their opposition until they brought down the prices to their old level.
The speaker, whose name was understood to be Leigh, then requested a
cheer for the actors, to show that no disrespect was intended them. The
cheer was given immediately.
A barrister of the name of Smythe then rose to crave another hearing for
Mr. Kemble. The manager stood forth again, calm, unmoved, and severe.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said he, "I wait here to know your wishes." Mr.
Leigh, who took upon himself, "for that night only," the character of
popular leader, said, the only reply he could give was one in three
words, "the old prices." Hereat the shouts of applause again rose, till
the building rang. Still serene amid the storm, the manager endeavoured
to enter into explanations. The men of the pit would hear nothing of
the sort. They wanted entire and absolute acquiescence. Less would not
satisfy them; and, as Mr. Kemble only wished to explain, they would not
hear a word. He finally withdrew amid a noise to which Babel must have
been comparatively silent.
Fourth night.--The rioters were more obstinate than ever. The noises
were increased by the addition of whistles, bugle-horns, and watchmen's
rattles, sniffling, snorting, and clattering from all parts of the
house. Human lungs were taxed to the uttermost, and the stamping on the
floor raised such a dust as to render all objects but dimly visible. In
placards, too, there was greater variety. The loose wits of the town had
all day been straining their ingenuity to invent new ones. Among them
were, "Come forth, O Kemble! come forth and tremble!" "Foolish John
Kemble, we'll make you tremble!" and "No cats! no Catalani! English
actors for ever!"
Those who wish to oppose a mob successfully, should never lose their
temper. It is a proof of weakness which masses of people at once
perceive, and never fail to take advantage of. Thus, when the managers
unwisely resolved to fight the mob with their own weapons, it only
increased the opposition it was intended to allay. A dozen pugilists,
commanded by a notorious boxer of the day, were introduced into the
pit, to use the argumentum ad hominem to the rioters. Continual scuffles
ensued: but the invincible resolution of the playgoers would not allow
them to quail; it rather aroused them to renewed opposition, and a
determination never to submit or yield. It also strengthened their
cause, by affording them further ground of complaint against the
managers.
The performances announced on the bills were the opera of "Love in a
Village," and "Who wins?" but the bills had it all to themselves, for
neither actors nor public were much burthened with them. The latter,
indeed, afforded some sport. The title was too apt to the occasion to
escape notice, and shouts of "Who wins? who wins?" displaced for a time
the accustomed cry of old prices.
After the fall of the curtain, Mr. Leigh, with another gentleman, again
spoke, complaining bitterly of the introduction of the prize-fighters,
and exhorting the public never to give in. Mr. Kemble was again called
forward; but when he came, the full tide of discord ran so strongly
against him that, being totally unable to stem it, he withdrew. Each
man seemed to shout as if he had been a Stentor; and when his lungs were
wearied, took to his feet and stamped, till all the black coats in his
vicinity became grey with dust. At last the audience were tired out, and
the theatre was closed before eleven o'clock.
Fifth night.--The play was Coleman's amusing comedy of "John Bull."
There was no diminution of the uproar. Every note on the diapason of
discord was run through. The prize-fighters, or hitites as they were
called, mustered in considerable numbers, and the battles between them
and the pitites were fierce and many. It was now, for the first time,
that the letters O.P. came into general use as an abbreviation of
the accustomed watchword of old prices. Several placards were thus
inscribed; and, as brevity is so desirable in shouting, the mob adopted
the emendation. As usual, the manager was called for. After some delay
he came forward, and was listened to with considerable patience. He
repeated, in respectful terms, the great loss that would be occasioned
to the proprietors by a return to the old prices, and offered to submit
a statement of their accounts to the eminent lawyers, Sir Vicary Gibbs
and Sir Thomas Plumer; the eminent merchants, Sir Francis Baring and Mr.
Angerstein; and Mr. Whitmore, the Governor of the Bank of England. By
their decision as to the possibility of carrying on the theatre at the
old prices, he would consent to be governed, and he hoped the public
would do the same. This reasonable proposition was scouted immediately.
Not even the high and reputable names he had mentioned were thought to
afford any guarantee for impartiality. The pitites were too wrong-headed
to abate one iota of their pretensions; and they had been too much
insulted by the prize-fighters in the manager's pay, to show any
consideration for him, or agree to any terms he might propose. They
wanted full acquiescence, and nothing less. Thus the conference broke
off, and the manager retired amid a storm of hisses.
An Irish gentleman, named O'Reilly, then stood up in one of the boxes.
With true Irish gallantry, he came to the rescue of an ill-used lady.
He said he was disgusted at the attacks made upon Madame Catalani, the
finest singer in the world, and a lady inestimable in private life. It
was unjust, unmanly, and un-English to make the innocent suffer for the
guilty; and he hoped this blot would be no longer allowed to stain a
fair cause. As to the quarrel with the manager, he recommended them
to persevere. They were not only wronged by his increased prices, but
insulted by his boxers, and he hoped, that before they had done with
him, they would teach him a lesson he would not soon forget. The gallant
Hibernian soon became a favourite, and sat down amid loud cheers.
Sixth night.--No signs of a cessation of hostilities on the one side, or
of a return to the old prices on the other. The playgoers seemed to grow
more united as the managers grew more obstinate. The actors had by far
the best time of it; for they were spared nearly all the labour of their
parts, and merely strutted on the stage to see how matters went on,
and then strutted off again. Notwithstanding the remonstrance of Mr.
O'Reilly on the previous night, numerous placards reflecting upon Madame
Catalani were exhibited. One was inscribed with the following doggrel:--
"Seventeen thousand a-year goes pat,
To Kemble, his sister, and Madame Cat."
On another was displayed, in large letters, "No compromise, old prices,
and native talent!" Some of these were stuck against the front of the
boxes, and others were hoisted from the pit on long poles. The following
specimens will suffice to show the spirit of them; wit they had none,
or humour either, although when they were successively exhibited, they
elicited roars of laughter:--
"John Kemble alone is the cause of this riot;
When he lowers his prices, John Bull will be quiet."
"John Kemble be damn'd,
We will not be cramm'd."
"Squire Kemble
Begins to tremble."
The curtain fell as early as nine o'clock, when there being loud calls
for Mr. Kemble, he stood forward. He announced that Madame Catalani,
against whom so unjustifiable a prejudice had been excited, had thrown
up her engagement rather than stand in the way of any accommodation
of existing differences. This announcement was received with
great applause. Mr. Kemble then went on to vindicate himself and
co-proprietors from the charge of despising public opinion. No
assertion, he assured them, could be more unjust. They were sincerely
anxious to bring these unhappy differences to a close, and he thought he
had acted in the most fair and reasonable manner in offering to submit
the accounts to an impartial committee, whose decision, and the grounds
for it, should be fully promulgated. This speech was received with
cheering, but interrupted at the close by some individuals, who objected
to any committee of the manager's nomination. This led to a renewal of
the uproar, and it was some time before silence could be obtained. When,
at last, he was able to make himself heard, he gave notice, that until
the decision of the committee had been drawn up, the theatre should
remain closed. Immediately every person in the pit stood up, and a long
shout of triumph resounded through the house, which was heard at the
extremity of Bow Street. As if this result had been anticipated, a
placard was at the same moment hoisted, inscribed, "Here lies the body
of NEW PRICE, an ugly brat and base born, who expired on the 23rd of
September 1809, aged six days.--Requiescat in pace!"
Mr. Kemble then retired, and the pitites flung up their hats in the air,
or sprang over the benches, shouting and hallooing in the exuberance of
their joy; and thus ended the first act of this popular farce.
The committee ultimately chosen differed from that first named, Alderman
Sir Charles Price, Bart. and Mr. Silvester, the Recorder of London,
being substituted for Sir Francis Baring and Sir Vicary Gibbs. In a few
days they had examined the multitudinous documents of the theatre,
and agreed to a report which was published in all the newspapers,
and otherwise distributed. They stated the average profits of the six
preceding years at 6 and 3/8 per cent, being only 1 and 3/8 per cent.
beyond the legal interest of money, to recompense the proprietors for
all their care and enterprise. Under the new prices they would receive
3 and 1/2 per cent. profit; but if they returned to the old prices, they
would suffer a loss of fifteen shillings per cent. upon their capital.
Under these circumstances, they could do no other than recommend the
proprietors to continue the new prices.
This report gave no satisfaction. It certainly convinced the reasonable,
but they, unfortunately, were in a minority of one to ten. The managers,
disregarding the outcry that it excited, advertised the recommencement
of the performances for Wednesday the 4th of October following. They
endeavoured to pack the house with their friends, but the sturdy O.P.
men were on the alert, and congregated in the pit in great numbers.
The play was "The Beggar's Opera," but, as on former occasions, it
was wholly inaudible. The noises were systematically arranged, and
the actors, seeing how useless it was to struggle against the popular
feeling, hurried over their parts as quickly as they could, and the
curtain fell shortly after nine o'clock. Once more the manager essayed
the difficult task of convincing madness by appealing to reason. As soon
as the din of the rattles and post-horns would permit him to speak, he
said, he would throw himself on the fairness of the most enlightened
metropolis in the world. He was sure, however strongly they might
feel upon the subject, they would not be accessory to the ruin of
the theatre, by insisting upon a return to the former prices.
Notwithstanding the little sop he had thrown out to feed the vanity of
this roaring Cerberus, the only answer he received was a renewal of
the noise, intermingled with shouts of "Hoax! hoax! imposition!" Mr.
O'Reilly, the gallant friend of Madame Catalani, afterwards addressed
the pit, and said no reliance could be placed on the report of the
committee. The profits of the theatre were evidently great: they had
saved the heavy salary of Madame Catalani; and by shutting out the
public from all the boxes but the pigeon-holes, they made large
sums. The first and second tiers were let at high rents to notorious
courtesans, several of whom he then saw in the house; and it was clear
that the managers preferred a large revenue from this impure source to
the reasonable profits they would receive from respectable people. Loud
cheers greeted this speech; every eye was turned towards the boxes, and
the few ladies in them immediately withdrew. At the same moment, some
inveterate petite hoisted a large placard, on which was inscribed,
"We lads of the pit
Will never submit."
Several others were introduced. One of them was a caricature likeness of
Mr. Kemble, asking, "What do you want?" with a pitite replying, "The old
prices, and no pigeon-holes!" Others merely bore the drawing of a large
key, in allusion to a notorious house in the neighbourhood, the denizens
of which were said to be great frequenters of the private boxes. These
appeared to give the managers more annoyance than all the rest, and the
prize-fighters made vigorous attacks upon the holders of them. Several
persons were, on this night, and indeed nearly every night, taken
into custody, and locked up in the watchhouse. On their appearance the
following morning, they were generally held to bail in considerable sums
to keep the peace. This proceeding greatly augmented the animosity of
the pit.
It would be useless to detail the scenes of confusion which followed
night after night. For about three weeks the war continued with unabated
fury. Its characteristics were nearly always the same. Invention was
racked to discover new noises, and it was thought a happy idea when
one fellow got into the gallery with a dustman's bell, and rang it
furiously. Dogs were also brought into the boxes, to add their sweet
voices to the general uproar. The animals seemed to join in it con
amore, and one night a large mastiff growled and barked so loudly, as to
draw down upon his exertions three cheers from the gratified pitites.
So strong did the popular enthusiasm run in favour of the row, that
well-dressed ladies appeared in the boxes with the letters O. P. on
their bonnets. O. P. hats for the gentlemen were still more common,
and some were so zealous in the cause, as to sport waistcoats with an
O embroidered upon one flap and a P on the other. O.P. toothpicks were
also in fashion; and gentlemen and ladies carried O.P. handkerchiefs,
which they waved triumphantly whenever the row was unusually deafening.
The latter suggested the idea of O. P. flags, which were occasionally
unfurled from the gallery to the length of a dozen feet. Sometimes the
first part of the night's performances were listened to with comparative
patience, a majority of the manager's friends being in possession of the
house. But as soon as the half-price commenced, the row began again
in all its pristine glory. At the fall of the curtain it soon became
customary to sing "God save the King," the whole of the O.P.'s joining
in loyal chorus. Sometimes this was followed by "Rule Britannia;" and,
on two or three occasions, by a parody of the national anthem, which
excited great laughter. A verse may not be uninteresting as a specimen.
"O Johnny Bull, be true,
Confound the prices new,
And make them fall!
Curse Kemble's politics,
Frustrate his knavish tricks,
On thee our hopes we fix,
T' upset them all!"
This done, they scrambled over the benches, got up sham fights in
the pit, or danced the famous O.P. dance. The latter may as well be
described here: half a dozen, or a dozen fellows formed in a ring, and
stamped alternately with the right and left foot, calling out at regular
intervals, O. P.--O. P. with a drawling and monotonous sound. This
uniformly lasted till the lights were put out, when the rioters
withdrew, generally in gangs of ten or twenty, to defend themselves from
sudden attacks on the part of the constables.
An idea seemed about this time to break in upon them, that
notwithstanding the annoyance they caused the manager, they were aiding
to fill his coffers. This was hinted at in some of the newspapers, and
the consequence was, that many stayed away to punish him, if possible,
under the silent system. But this did not last long. The love of
mischief was as great an incentive to many of them as enmity to the
new prices. Accidental circumstances also contributed to disturb the
temporary calm. At the Westminster quarter-sessions, on the 27th of
October, bills of indictment were preferred against forty-one persons
for creating a disturbance and interrupting the performances of the
theatre. The grand jury ignored twenty-seven of the bills, left two
undecided, and found true bills against twelve. The latter exercised
their right of traverse till the ensuing sessions. The preferment of
these bills had the effect of re-awakening the subsiding excitement.
Another circumstance about the same time gave a still greater impetus to
it, and furnished the rioters with a chief, round whom they were eager
to rally. Mr. Clifford, a barrister, appeared in the pit on the night of
the 31st of October, with the letters O. P. on his hat. Being a man of
some note, he was pounced upon by the constables, and led off to Bow
Street police office, where Brandon, the box-keeper, charged him with
riotous and disorderly conduct. This was exactly what Clifford wanted.
He told the presiding magistrate, a Mr. Read, that he had purposely
displayed the letters on his hat, in order that the question of right
might be determined before a competent tribunal. He denied that he
had committed any offence, and seemed to manifest so intimate an
acquaintance with the law upon the subject, that the magistrate,
convinced by his reasoning, ordered his immediate dismissal, and stated
that he had been taken into custody without the slightest grounds. The
result was made known in the theatre a few minutes afterwards, where
Mr. Clifford, on his appearance victorious, was received with reiterated
huzzas. On his leaving the house, he was greeted by a mob of five or
six hundred persons, who had congregated outside to do him honour as he
passed. From that night the riots may be said to have recommenced, and
"Clifford and O. P." became the rallying cry of the party. The officious
box-keeper became at the same time the object of the popular dislike,
and the contempt with which the genius and fine qualities of Mr. Kemble
would not permit them to regard him, was fastened upon his underling.
So much ill-feeling was directed towards the latter, that at this time a
return to the old prices, unaccompanied by his dismissal, would not have
made the manager's peace with the pitites.
In the course of the few succeeding weeks, during which the riots
continued with undiminished fury, O. P. medals were struck, and worn in
great numbers in the theatre. A few of the ultra-zealous even wore
them in the streets. A new fashion also came into favour for hats,
waistcoats, and handkerchiefs, on which the mark, instead of the
separate letters O and P, was a large O, with a small P in the middle of
it: thus,
xxxxxxxxx
x x
x xxx x
x x x x
x xxx x
x x x
x x x
x x
xxxxxxxxx
The managers, seeing that Mr. Clifford was so identified with the
rioters, determined to make him responsible. An action was accordingly
brought against him and other defendants in the Court of King's Bench.
On the 20th of November, the Attorney-general moved, before Lord
Ellenborough, for a rule to show cause why a criminal information should
not be filed against Clifford for unlawfully conspiring with certain
others to intimidate the proprietors of Covent-Garden Theatre, and force
them, to their loss and detriment, to lower their prices of admission.
The rule was granted, and an early day fixed for the trial. In the mean
time, these proceedings kept up the acerbity of the O. P.s, and every
night at the fall of the curtain, three groans were given for John
Kemble and three cheers for John Bull.
It was during this year that the national Jubilee was celebrated, in
honour of the fiftieth year of the reign of George III. When the riots
had reached their fiftieth night, the O. P.s also determined to have a
jubilee. All their previous efforts in the way of roaring, great as they
were, were this night outdone, and would have continued long after "the
wee short hour," had not the managers wisely put the extinguisher upon
them and the lights about eleven o'clock.
Pending the criminal prosecution against himself, Mr. Clifford brought
an action for false imprisonment against Brandon. The cause was fixed
for trial in the Court of Common Pleas, on the 5th of December, before
Lord Chief-Justice Mansfield. From an early hour in the morning all the
avenues leading to the court were thronged with an eager multitude;
all London was in anxiety for the resuit. So dense was the crowd, that
counsel found the greatest difficulty in making their way into court.
Mr. Sergeant Best was retained on the part of the plaintiff, and Mr.
Sergeant Shepherd for the defence. The defendant put two pleas upon
the record; first, that he was not guilty, and secondly, that he was
justified. Sergeant Best, in stating the plaintiff's case, blamed the
managers for all the disturbances that had taken place, and contended
that his client, in affixing the letters O. P. to his hat, was not
guilty of any offence. Even if he had joined in the noises, which he had
not, his so doing would not subject him to the penalties for rioting.
Several witnesses were then called to prove the capture of Mr. Clifford,
the hearing of the case before the magistrate at Bow Street, and his
ultimate dismissal. Sergeant Shepherd was heard at great length on the
other side, and contended that his client was perfectly justified in
taking into custody a man who was inciting others to commit a breach of
the peace.
The Lord Chief-Justice summed up, with an evident bias in favour of the
defendant. He said an undue apprehension of the rights of an audience
had got abroad. Even supposing the object of the rioters to be fair and
legal, they were not authorized to carry it by unfair means. In order to
constitute a riot, it was not necessary that personal violence should be
committed, and it seemed to him that the defendant had not acted in an
improper manner in giving into custody a person who, by the display of a
symbol, was encouraging others to commit a riot.
The jury retired to consider their verdict. The crowd without and within
the court awaited the result in feverish suspense. Half an hour elapsed,
when the jury returned with a verdict for the plaintiff--Damages,
five pounds. The satisfaction of the spectators was evident upon their
countenances, that of the judge expressed the contrary feeling. Turning
to the foreman of the jury, his Lordship asked upon which of the two
points referred to them, namely, the broad question, whether a riot
had been committed, and, if committed, whether the plaintiff had
participated in it, they had found their verdict?
The foreman stated, that they were all of opinion generally that the
plaintiff had been illegally arrested. This vague answer did not satisfy
his Lordship, and he repeated his question. He could not, however,
obtain a more satisfactory reply. Evidently vexed at what he deemed the
obtuseness or partiality of the jury, he turned to the bar, and said,
that a spirit of a mischievous and destructive nature was abroad, which,
if not repressed, threatened awful consequences. The country would be
lost, he said, and the government overturned, if such a spirit were
encouraged; it was impossible it could end in good. Time, the destroyer
and fulfiller of predictions, has proved that his Lordship was a false
prophet. The harmless O. P. war has been productive of no such dire
results.