Continuation of food riots in London—Inefficiency of Police—Riots
still continue—Attempts to negotiate a Peace—A political meeting
on Kennington Common—Scarcity of corn—Proclamation to restrict its
consumption—Census of the people.
THE Lord Mayor in vain promulgated a pacific Proclamation; the Riots
still went on.
“COMBE, MAYOR.
“_Mansion House, Sept. 17, 1800._
“Whereas the peace of this City has been, within these few days, very
much disturbed by numerous and tumultuous assemblies of riotous and
disorderly people, the magistrates, determined to preserve the King’s
peace, and the persons and property of their fellow-citizens, by every
means which the law has intrusted to their hands, particularly request
the peaceable and well-disposed inhabitants of this City, upon the
appearance of the military, to keep themselves away from the windows;
to keep all the individuals of their families, and servants, within
doors; and, where such opportunities can be taken, to remain in the
back rooms of their houses.
“By order of his Lordship.
“W. J. NEWMAN, _Clerk_.”
In reading of these Riots we must not forget that the civil
authorities for keeping the peace were, and had been, for more than
a century previous, utterly inefficient for their purpose, and the
laughing-stock of every one; added to which, there was a spirit of
lawlessness abroad, among the populace, which could hardly exist
nowadays. The male portion of the Royal Family were fearlessly
lampooned and caricatured, and good-natured jokes were made even on
such august personages as the King and Queen—the plain, homely manner
of the one, and the avaricious, and somewhat shrewish temper of the
other, were good-humouredly made fun of. The people gave of their
lives, and their substance, to save their country from the foot of
the invader; but they also showed a sturdy independence of character,
undeniably good in itself, but which was sometimes apt to overpass the
bounds of discretion, and degenerate into license.
So was it with these food riots. The mob had got an idea in their heads
that there was a class who bought food cheap, and held it until they
could sell it dear; and nothing could disabuse their minds of this, as
the following will show.
On the morning of the 18th of September, not having the fear of the
Lord Mayor before their eyes, the mob assembled in Chiswell Street,
opposite the house of a Mr. Jones, whose windows they had demolished
the previous night, and directed their attentions to a house opposite,
at the corner of Grub Street, which was occupied by a Mr. Pizey, a
shoemaker, a friend of the said Jones, to accommodate whom, he had
allowed his cellars to be filled with barrels of salt pork. These
casks were seen by the mob, and they were immediately magnified into
an immense magazine of butter and cheese, forestalled from the market,
locked up from use, and putrefying in the hands of unfeeling avarice.
Groaning and cursing, the mob began to mutter that “it would be a d—d
good thing to throw some stuff in and blow up the place.” Poor Pizey,
alarmed, sent messengers to the Mansion House, and Worship Street
office: a force of constables was sent, and the mob retired.
At night, however, the same riot began afresh. Meeting in Bishopsgate
Street, they went on their victorious career up Sun Street, through
Finsbury Square, overthrowing the constables opposed to them, down
Barbican into Smithfield, Saffron Hill, Holborn, and Snow Hills, at
the latter of which they broke two cheesemongers’ windows. Then they
visited Fleet Market, breaking and tossing about everything moveable,
smashed the windows of another cheesemonger, and then turned up Ludgate
Hill, when they began breaking every lamp; thence into Cheapside, back
into Newgate Street, St. Martin’s-le-Grand, and Barbican to Old Street,
where they dispersed for the night. From Ludgate Hill to Barbican, only
one lamp was left burning, and of that the glass was broken. Somehow,
in this night’s escapade the military were ever on their track, but
never near them.
On the 18th of September the King arose in his Majesty, and issued
a proclamation, with a very long preamble, “strictly commanding and
requiring all the Lieutenants of our Counties, and all our Justices
of the Peace, Sheriffs, and Under-Sheriffs, and all civil officers
whatsoever, that they do take the most effectual means for suppressing
all riots and tumults, and to that end do effectually put in execution
an Act of Parliament made in the first year of the reign of our late
royal ancestor, of glorious memory, King George the First, entituled
‘An Act for preventing tumults and riotous assemblies, and for the more
speedy and effectual punishing the rioters,’” &c.
Still, in spite of this terrible fulmination, the rioters again
“made night hideous” on the 19th of September; but they were not so
formidable, nor did they do as much mischief, as on former occasions.
On the 20th they made Clare Market their _rendezvous_, marched
about somewhat, had one or two brushes with the St. Clement Danes
Association, and, finally, retired on the advent of the Horse Guards.
Another mob met in Monmouth Street, the famous old-clothes repository
in St. Giles’s, but the Westminster Volunteers, and cavalry, dispersed
them; and, the shops shutting very early—much to the discomfiture
of the respectable poor, as regarded their Saturday night’s
marketings—peace once more reigned. London was once more quiet, and
only the rioters who had been captured, were left to be dealt with by
the law. But the people in the country were not so quickly satisfied;
their wages were smaller than those of their London brethren, and they
proportionately felt the pinch more acutely. In some instances they
were put down by force, in others the price of bread was lowered; but
it is impossible at this time to take up a newspaper, and not find some
notice of, or allusion to, a food riot.
The century would die at peace with all men if it could, and there
was a means of communication open with France, in the person of a M.
Otto, resident in this country as a kind of unofficial agent. The
first glimpse we get of these negotiations, from the papers which were
published on the subject, is in August, 1800; and between that time,
and when the _pourparlers_ came to an end, on the 9th of November,
many were the letters which passed between Lord Grenville and M.
Otto. Peace, however, was not to be as yet. Napoleon was personally
distrusted, and the French Revolution had been so recent, that the
stability of the French Government was more than doubted.
A demonstration (it never attained the dimensions of a riot)—this time
political and not born of an empty stomach—took place at Kennington
on Sunday, the 9th of November. So-called “inflammatory” handbills had
been very generally distributed about town a day or two beforehand,
calling a meeting of mechanics, on Kennington Common, to petition His
Majesty on a redress of grievances.
This actually caused a meeting of the Privy Council, and orders were
sent to all the police offices, and the different volunteer corps, to
hold themselves in readiness in case of emergency. The precautions
taken, show that the Government evidently over-estimated the magnitude
of the demonstration. First of all the Bow Street patrol were sent,
early in the morning, to take up a position at “The Horns,” Kennington,
there to wait until the mob began to assemble, when they were directed
to give immediate notice to the military in the environs of London, who
were under arms at nine o’clock. Parties of Bow Street officers were
stationed at different public-houses, all within easy call.
By and by, about 9 a.m., the conspirators began to make their
appearance on the Common, in scattered groups of six or seven each,
until their number reached _a hundred_. Then the police sent round
their fiery-cross to summon aid; and before that could reach them, they
actually tried the venturesome expedient of dispersing the meeting
themselves—with success. But later—or lazier—politicians continued
to arrive, and the valiant Bow Street officers, thinking discretion the
better part of valour, retired. When, however, they were reinforced
by the Surrey Yeomanry, they plucked up heart of grace, and again set
out upon their mission of dispersing the meeting—and again were they
successful. In another hour, by 10 a.m., these gallant fellows could
breathe again, for there arrived to their aid the Southwark Volunteers,
and the whole police force from seven offices, together with the river
police.
Then appeared on the scene, ministerial authority in the shape of one
Mr. Ford, from the Treasury, who came modestly in a hackney coach;
and when he arrived, the constables felt the time was come for them
to distinguish themselves, and two persons, “one much intoxicated,”
were taken into custody, and duly lodged in gaol—and this glorious
intelligence was at once forwarded to the Duke of Portland, who then
filled the post of Secretary to the Home Department.
The greatest number of people present at any time was about five
hundred; and the troops, after having a good dinner at “The Horns,”
left for their homes—except a party of horse which paraded the
streets of Lambeth. A terrible storm of rain terminated this political
campaign, in a manner satisfactory to all; and for this _ridiculus
mus_ the Guards, the Horse Guards, and all the military, regulars or
volunteers, were under arms or in readiness all the forenoon!
I have here given what, perhaps, some may consider undue prominence to
a trifling episode; but it is in these things that the contrast lies
as to the feeling of the people, and government, in the dawn of the
nineteenth century, and in these latter days of ours. The meeting of
a few, to discuss grievances, and to petition for redress, in the one
case is met with stern, vigorous repression: in our times a blatant
mob is allowed, nay encouraged, to perambulate the streets, yelling,
they know not what, against the House of Lords, and the railings of the
park are removed, by authority, to facilitate the progress of these Her
Majesty’s lieges, and firm supporters of constitutional liberty.
The scarcity of corn still continued down to the end of the year. It
had been a bad harvest generally throughout the Continent, and, in
spite of the bounty held out for its importation, but little arrived.
The markets of the world had not then been opened—and among the
marvels of our times, is the large quantity of wheat we import from
India, and Australia. So great was this scarcity, that the King, in his
paternal wisdom, issued a proclamation (December 3rd) exhorting all
persons who had the means of procuring other food than corn, to use
the strictest economy in the use of every kind of grain, abstaining
from pastry, reducing the consumption of bread in their respective
families at least one-third, and upon no account to allow it “to exceed
one quartern loaf for each person in each week;” and also all persons
keeping horses, especially those for pleasure, to restrict their
consumption of grain, as far as circumstances would admit.
If this proclamation had been honestly acted up to, doubtless it would
have effected some relief; which was sorely needed, when we see that
the average prices of corn and bread throughout the country were—
Wheat per qr. Barley per qr. Oats per qr. Quartern loaf.
113s. 60s. 41s. 1s. 9d.
And, looking at the difference in value of money then, and now, we must
add at least 50 per cent., which would make the average price of the
quartern loaf 2s. 7½d.!—and, really, at the end of the year, wheat was
133s. per quarter, bread 1s. 10½d. per quartern.
Three per Cent. Consols were quoted, on January 1, 1800, at 60; on
January 1, 1801, they stood at 54.
A fitting close to the century was found in a Census of the people.
On the 19th of November Mr. Abbot brought a Bill into Parliament “to
ascertain the population of Great Britain.” He pointed out the extreme
ignorance which prevailed on this subject, and stated “that the best
opinions of modern times, and each of them highly respectable, estimate
our present numbers, according to one statement, at 8,000,000; and
according to other statements—formed on more extensive investigation
and, as it appears to me, a more correct train of reasoning, showing an
increase of one-third in the last forty years—the total number cannot
be less than 11,000,000.”
This, the first real census ever taken of the United Kingdom, was
not, of course, as exhaustive and trustworthy, as those decennial
visitations we now experience. Mr. Abbot’s plan was crude, and the
results must of necessity have been merely approximate. He said, “All
that will be necessary will be to pass a short Act, requiring the
resident clergy and parish officers, in every parish and township,
to answer some few plain questions, perhaps four or five, easy to be
understood, and easy to be executed, which should be specified in a
schedule to the Act, and to return their answers to the clerk of the
Parliament, for the inspection of both Houses of Parliament. From such
materials it will be easy (following the precedent of 1787) to form an
abstract exhibiting the result of the whole.”
When the numbers, crudely gathered as they were, were published, they
showed how fallacious was the prediction as to figures.
England and Wales 8,892,536
Scotland 1,608,420
Ireland 5,216,331
——————————
Total 15,717,287[10]
——————————
One thing more was necessary before the dying giant expired, and that
was to rectify the chronology of the century.[11] “From the 1st day
of March last there has been a difference of twelve days between the
old and new style, instead of eleven as formerly, in consequence of
the regulations of the Act passed in 1752, according to which the
year 1800 was only to be accounted a common year, and not a leap year;
therefore old Lady-day was the 6th of April, old May-day 13th May, old
Midsummer-day 6th July, old Lammas 13th August, old Michaelmas-day 11th
October, &c., and so to continue for one hundred years.”
DRAW THE CURTAINS—THE OLD CENTURY
IS DEAD.
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