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The Dawn of the XIXth Century in England / A social sketch of the times
PREFACE
THAT Sir Walter Scott, when he called his novel “Waverley; or, ’Tis Sixty Years Since,” thought that the time had come, when the generation, then living, should be presented with a page of history, which would bring to their remembrance the manners and customs of their grandfathers, must be my excuse for this book.
For, never, in the world’s history, has there been such a change in things social, as since the commencement of the Nineteenth Century; it has been a quiet revolution – a good exemplar of which may be found in the Frontispiece, which is a type of things past, never to be recalled. The Watchman has long since given place to the Police; the climbing boy, to chimney-sweeping on a more scientific plan; and no more is “Saloop” vended at street corners; even the drummer-boys are things of the past, only fit for a Museum – and it is of these things that this book treats.
The times, compared with our own, were so very different; Arts, Manufactures, Science, Social Manners, Police, and all that goes to make up the sum of life, were then so widely divergent, as almost to make one disbelieve, whilst reading of them, that such a state of things could exist in this Nineteenth Century of ours. In the first decade, of which I write, Steam was in its very babyhood; locomotives, and steamships, were only just beginning to be heard of; Gas was a novelty, and regarded more as an experiment, than the useful agent we have since found it; whilst Electricity was but a scientific toy, whose principal use was to give galvanic shocks, and cause the limbs of a corpse to move, when applied to its muscles.
Commerce was but just developing, being hampered by a long and cruel war, which, however, was borne with exemplary patience and fortitude by the nation – England, although mistress of the seas, having to hold her own against all Europe in arms. The Manners, Dress, and Food, were all so different to those of our day, that to read of them, especially when the description is taken from undoubtedly contemporary sources, is not only amusing, but instructive.
The Newspapers of the day are veritable mines of information; and, although the work of minutely perusing them is somewhat laborious and irksome, the information exhumed well repays the search. Rich sources, too, to furnish illustrations, are open, and I have availed myself largely of the privilege; and I have endeavoured, as far as in my power lay, to give a faithful record of the Dawn of the Nineteenth Century in England, taken absolutely from original, and authentic, sources.
CHAPTER I
Retrospect of Eighteenth Century – Napoleon’s letter to George III. – Lord Grenville’s reply – French prisoners of war in England – Scarcity of provisions – Gloomy financial outlook – Loan from the Bank of England – Settlement of the Union with Ireland.
THE old Eighteenth Century lay a-dying, after a comparatively calm and prosperous life.
In its infancy, William of Orange brought peace to the land, besides delivering it from popery, brass money, and wooden shoes; and, under the Georges, civil war was annihilated, and the prosperity, which we have afterwards enjoyed, was laid down on a broad, and solid basis.
But in its last years, it fell upon comparatively evil days, and, although it was saved from the flood of revolution which swept over France, yet, out of that revolution came a war which embittered its closing days, and was left as a legacy to the young Nineteenth Century, which, as we know, has grappled with and overcome all difficulties, and has shone pre-eminent over all its predecessors.
The poor old century had lost us America, whose chief son, General George Washington, died in 1799. In 1799 we were at war with France truly, but England itself had not been menaced – the war was being fought in Egypt. Napoleon had suddenly deserted his army there, and had returned to France post-haste, for affairs were happening in Paris which needed his presence, if his ambitious schemes were ever to ripen and bear fruit. He arrived, dissolved the Council of Five Hundred, and the Triumvirate consisting of himself, Cambacérès, and Le Brun was formed. Then, whether in sober earnest, or as a bit of political by-play, he wrote on Christmas day, 1799, the following message of goodwill and peace:
“Called by the wishes of the French nation to occupy the first magistracy of the French Republic, I deem it desirable, in entering on its functions, to make a direct communication to your Majesty.
“Must the war, which for four years has ravaged every part of the world, be eternal? Are there no means of coming to an understanding?
“How can the two most enlightened nations of Europe, more powerful and stronger than is necessary for their safety and independence, sacrifice to the idea of a vain grandeur, the benefits of commerce, of internal prosperity, and domestic happiness? How is it they do not feel that peace is as glorious as necessary?
“These sentiments cannot be strangers to the heart of your Majesty, who rules over a free nation, with no other view than to render them happy.
“Your Majesty will only see in this overture, my sincere desire to effectually contribute to a general pacification, by a prompt step, free and untrammelled by those forms which, necessary perhaps to disguise the apprehensions of feeble states, only prove, in the case of strong ones, the mutual desire to deceive.
“France and England, by abusing their strength, may, for a long time yet, to the misery of all other nations, defer the moment of their absolute exhaustion; but I will venture to say, that the fate of all civilized nations depends on the end of a war which envelopes the whole world.
Fair as this looks to the eye, British statesmen could not even then, in those early days, implicitly trust Napoleon, without some material guarantee. True, all was not couleur de rose with the French army and navy. The battle of the Nile, and Acre, still were in sore remembrance. Italy had emancipated itself, and Suwarrow had materially crippled the French army. There were 140,000 Austrians hovering on the Rhine border, and the national purse was somewhat flaccid. No doubt it would have been convenient to Napoleon to have patched up a temporary peace in order to recruit – but that would not suit England.
On Jan. 4, 1800, Lord Grenville replied to Talleyrand, then Minister for Foreign Affairs, in a long letter, in which he pointed out that England had not been the aggressor, and would always be glad of peace if it could be secured on a sure and solid basis. He showed how France had behaved on the Continent, cited the United Provinces, the Swiss Cantons, and the Netherlands; how Germany had been ravaged, and how Italy, though then free, “had been made the scene of unbounded anarchy and rapine;” and he wound up thus:
“His Majesty looks only to the security of his own dominions and those of his Allies, and to the general safety of Europe. Whenever he shall judge that such security can in any manner be attained, as resulting either from the internal situation of that country from whose internal situation the danger has arisen, or from such other circumstances of whatever nature as may produce the same end, His Majesty will eagerly embrace the opportunity to concert with his Allies the means of immediate and general pacification.
“Unhappily no such security hitherto exists: no sufficient evidence of the principle by which the new Government will be directed; no reasonable ground by which to judge of its stability. In this situation it can for the present only remain for His Majesty to pursue, in conjunction with other Powers, those exertions of just and defensive war, which his regard to the happiness of his subjects will never permit him either to continue beyond the necessity in which they originated, or to terminate on any other grounds than such as may best contribute to the
