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CHAPTER XLVI
The Royal Society and the Royal Institution – Scientific men of the time – Society of Arts – Other learned Societies – Ballooning – Steam – Steamboats – Locomotives – Fourdrinier and the paper-making machine – Coals – Their price – Committee of the House of Commons on coal – Price of coals.
THE ROYAL Institution had just been founded (incorporated 13th January, 1800), and the Gresham lectures were held. The Royal Institution was patronized by its big elder brother, the Royal Society, for in the minutes of the proceedings of the latter, on the 15th of April, 1802, is the following:
“Resolved, that … the Royal Society be requested to direct their Secretaries to communicate from time to time to the Editor of the Journals of the Royal Institution, such information respecting the Papers read at the Meetings of the Society, as it may be thought proper to allow to be published in these Journals.”
In the first ten years of this century, no great scientific discoveries were made; the most prominent being the researches of that marvellous scientist and Egyptologist, Dr. Thomas Young,66 in connection with physical optics, which led to his theory of undulatory light.67 Yet there were good men coming forward, the pioneers of this present age, to whose labours we are much indebted; and any decade might be proud of such names as Faraday, Banks, Rennie, Dr. Wollaston, Count Rumford, Humphrey Davy, and Henry Cavendish, whose discovery of the gaseous composition of water laid the foundation of the modern school of chemistry.
The Society of Arts, too, was doing good work, and the Society of Antiquaries, and the Linnæan Society, were also in existence; but the Horticultural, and Geological Societies, alone, were born during this ten years.
Ballooning was in the same position as now, i. e., bags of gas could, as is only natural, rise in the air, and be carried whither the wind listed; and, especially in the year 1802, ærostatics formed one of the chief topics of conversation, as Garnerin and Barrett were causing excitement by their ærial flights.
Man had enslaved steam, but had hardly begun to utilize it, and knew but very little of the capabilities of its energetic servant. Then it was but a poor hard-working drudge, who could but turn a wheel, or pump water. Certainly a steamboat had been tried on the Thames, and Fulton’s steamboat Clermont was tried on the Seine in 1803, at New York in 1806, and ran on the Hudson in 1807; but the locomotive was being hatched. The use of iron rails to ease the draft was well known, and several patents were granted for different patterns of rail, but they were mainly used in mines, to save horse power. Under the date of 24th March, 1802, is a “Specification of the Patents granted to Richard Trevithick and Andrew Vivian, of the Parish of Camborne, in the County of Cornwall. Engineers and Miners, for Methods for improving the construction of Steam Engines, and the Application thereof for driving Carriages, and for other purposes.” Here, then, we have the germ of the locomotive, which has been one of the most powerful agents of civilization the world ever saw. But it was not till 1811 that the locomotive was used, and then only on a railway connected with a colliery.
It was not a mechanical age, or rather, applied mechanics was as a young child, and babbled sillily. The only thing I regret, in writing this book, is the time I have wasted in looking over Patent Specifications, to find something worthy to illustrate the mechanical genius of the time. The most useful invention I have found, is the paper-making machine. This was originally the conception of a Frenchman, Louis Robert, who sold his invention to Didot, the great printer, who, bringing it to England, got Fourdrinier to join with him in perfecting it. It did not, Minerva-like, spring ready armed from its parent’s brain; but was the subject of several patents; but the one which approaches nearest to, and is identical in all essential points with, the present paper-making machine, is his “Specification, enrolled pursuant to Act of Parliament of the 47th of George the Third, of the Invention of Henry Fourdrinier and Sealy Fourdrinier, of Sherborne Lane, London, and John Gamble, of Saint Neots, in the County of Huntingdon, Paper Manufacturers; for making Paper by means of Machines, for which several Letters Patent have been obtained at different periods. Term extended to 15 years from 14th August, 1807.” This extension had been obtained by means of an Act of Parliament passed the previous session, and the machine was capable of making the endless web of paper now in vogue.
The primitive state of our manufactures at this date may be, perhaps, best understood by a typical illustration or two, taken by Pyne, a most conscientious draughtsman, who drew all his studies from nature. The first, on the next page, is an Iron Foundry, casting shot.
Coals were very dear, and that was owing to two things. First, that only the Sunderland district coals were used in London, because they only could, in any quantity, be shipped to London; the vast Staffordshire, and other inland basins, being out of the question, owing to lack of carriage, except where a canal was handy; and the other reason for their high price was that there being no steam vessels, a contrary wind would keep the coal-ships out of port, and, consequently, denude the market.
The inland coals were cheap enough in their own localities —vide the Morning Post, August 6, 1800: “At Oldham, in Lancashire, the best coals are only 6s. 9d. equal to a London chaldron.68 At Barnsley, in Yorkshire, the best coals are sold at the pit’s mouth for only 1½d. per cwt. Surely, permission ought to be granted for coals to be brought to London, if they can be conveyed by water. This might be done, as the canals from Lancashire are now cut so as a barge with twenty-five tons of coals would arrive in London in fourteen days. They cost at the pit only 8s. 4d. per ton.”
But not only were they unattainable, but many of the coal-fields from which we now draw our supplies were absolutely unknown. Here is an instance —Morning Post, July 25, 1805: “A very fine stratum of coal, 15 feet deep, has been lately discovered on the Earl of Moira’s estate at Donnington, and by which the Leicestershire Canal Shares have been doubled in their value.”
In looking at the following list of prices of coals, it must be borne in mind that these are the market prices for coals ex ship; and it was reckoned that 12s. per ton was a fair price to allow for metage, carriage, and profit. Add this, and remember that a sovereign at the commencement of the century had the purchasing power of, and, consequently, worth, about 30s.; it will then be seen that coals were excessively dear – such as would now practically extinguish every manufacture.
Even in 1800, when coals were only about 48s. or 48s. 6d., the price was considered so excessive, that a Committee of the House of Commons sat upon the subject, and issued a report, imputing it to the following causes:
“1. The agreement among the Coal Owners in the North, called ‘The Limitation of Vends,’ by which each colliery on the Tyne is limited, so as not to exceed a certain quantity in each year. Those Coal Owners who are found to have shipped more than their stipulated quantities, being bound to make a certain allowance at the end of each year, to those who have shipped less, and to conform to certain other regulations adopted by the Coal Owners on the river Wear.
“2. The detention of the ships at Newcastle, waiting for the best coals, sometimes a month or six weeks.
“3. The want of a market in London which would admit of a competition, perfectly free, in the purchase of coals.
“4. The circumstance of the coal-buyer being, in many instances, owners both of ship and cargo; which (as appears by the evidence) leads to considerable abuse.
“5. The want of a sufficient number of Meters, and of craft, for unloading the ships on their arrival in the river, and the occasional delays in procuring ballast on their return voyage.
“6. The practice of mixing the best coals with those of an inferior quality, and selling the whole so mixed as of the best kind; and
“7. To frauds in the measurement, carriage, and delivery of coals.”
That there were great profits made by coals, there can be no doubt. Mr. Walter, the proprietor of the Times, had been a coal-factor, and had failed in business, before he started his newspaper – in which, in its early days, he keenly scanned the state of the Coal Market for the benefit of the public.
Here is a paragraph advertisement from the Morning Herald, June 2, 1802, which shows that our grandfathers could advertise in as catching a style as the present generation: “On Saturday, the following conversation occurred between two sailors opposite Somerset House: ‘Ah! Sam, how are you?’ ‘Why, Jack, when I saw you, a few days ago, I was near a Gentleman; but now, through my folly, am a complete beggar!’ ‘Cheer up, Sam, for you are near a Gentleman now. I have just received all my prize money and wages; we have been partners in many a hard battle; we will be partners now. I am going to the London Sea Coal Company, in Southampton Street, Holborn, to buy a score of coals; and, by retailing of which, I’ll prove to you, there’s a devilish deal more satisfaction and pleasure than in throwing the gold dust away on bad women or public-houses.’” This company were in September, 1804, selling their coals at 58s. per chaldron.
October 8, 1804: “Pool69 price of coals: Wallsend, 54s. 6d.; Hebburn and Percy, 52s. 6d.; Wellington, 52s. 3d.; Temples, 51s. 8d.; Eighton, 48s. 3d. Eight ships at market, and all sold. The addition of 12s. to the above will give the price at which the coals should be delivered in town.”
That was in face of approaching winter. In summer time the price was naturally lower – July 1, 1805: “Coals. Monday, 24 June, 20 cargoes sold from 39s. 3d. to 49s. 6d. per chaldron. Wednesday, 26 do.; 10 ditto 42s. 9d. to 49s. Friday, 28: 15 ditto 43s. 9d. to 49s. 6d. in the Pool.”
In February, 1808, the retail price of coals was 64s.; and this did not include metage and shooting. In October, 1809, they rose to 74s., and in November of the same year they reached 84s.
CHAPTER XLVII
The Navy – Sailor’s carelessness – “The Sailor’s Journal” – The sailor and “a dilly” – Dress of the sailors – Rough life both for officers and men – Number of ships in Commission – Pressing – A man killed by a press-gang – Mutinies – That of the Danäe– Mutiny on board the Hermione, and cold-blooded slaughter of the officers – Mutiny in Bantry Bay – Pay of the officers – French prisoners of war.
IT WAS the fashion then, as it is now, to portray a sailor, as a harum-scarum, jovial, rollicking, care-for-nought; and doubtless, in the main, he was, at that time, as unlike as possible to the blue-riband, savings-bank Jack that he very frequently is now. Prize money was pretty plentiful; such things as a temperance captain and ship, were unknown; and the constant active service in which they were engaged, with its concomitant insecurity to life and limb, must have made them somewhat reckless, and inclined to enjoy life, after their fashion, whilst they still possessed that life. Rowlandson – May 30, 1802 – drew two of them in a caricature, called “The Sailor’s Journal.” They are dividing a bowl of punch, one is smoking, the other gives his mate some extracts from his Journal: “Entered the port of London. Steered to Nan’s lodgings, and unshipped my Cargo; Nan admired the shiners – so did the landlord – gave ‘em a handful apiece; emptied a bottle of the right sort with the landlord to the health of his honour Lord Nelson. All three set sail for the play; got a berth in a cabin on the larboard side – wanted to smoke a pipe, but the boatswain wouldn’t let me; remember to rig out Nan like the fine folks in the cabin right ahead. Saw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the upper deck – hailed him; the signal returned. Some of the land-lubbers in the cockpit began to laugh – tipped them a little foremast lingo till they sheered off. Emptied the grog bottle; fell fast asleep – dreamt of the battle of Camperdown. My landlord told me the play was over – glad of it. Crowded sail for a hackney coach. Squally weather – rather inclined to be sea-sick. Gave the pilot a two pound-note, and told him not to mind the change. In the morning, looked over my Rhino – a great deal of it, to be sure; but I hope, with the help of a few friends, to spend every shilling in a little time, to the honour and glory of old England.”
This was the ideal, and typical, sailor; the reality was sometimes as foolish. Morning Herald, June 12, 1805: “One day last week a sailor belonging to a man-of-war at Plymouth had leave to go on shore; but, having staid much longer than the allowed time, he received a sharp reprimand on his return. Jack’s reply was that he was very sorry, but that he had taken a dilly (a kind of chaise used about Plymouth) for the purpose of making the utmost haste, but the coachman could not give him change for half a guinea, and he, therefore, was obliged to keep him driving fore and aft between Plymouth and the Dock, till he had drove the half-guinea out! Unfortunately for poor Jack, it so happened, that when the half-guinea was drove out, he was set down at the spot whence he started, and had just as far to walk, as though he had not been drove at all.”
When in full uniform, a sailor in the Royal Navy was a sight to see – with his pig-tail properly clubbed and tied with black silk. We have already seen them in the picture of Nelson’s funeral car, and the accompanying illustration is of the same epoch, and shows a British sailor weeping over Lord Nelson’s death.
It was a rough school, both for officers and men. We may judge somewhat of what the life of the former was like by Captain Marryat’s novels; but, lest they should be highly coloured, let us take a few lines from the first page of the “Memoir of Admiral Sir Edward Codrington”:70
“He spent nine years at sea as a midshipman; and I have repeatedly heard him say, that during those nine years (so important for the formation of character) he never was invited to open a book, nor received a word of advice or instruction, except professional, from any one. More than that, he was thrown among a set in the gun-room mess, older than himself, whose amusement it was – a too customary amusement in those days – to teach the lad to drink, and to lead him into their own habitual practice in that respect.”
If this was the case with the officers, how did the men fare? Volunteer recruits did not come from the pick of the labouring class, and the pressed men soon fell into the ways of those surrounding them. No doubt they were better off in the Royal Navy than in the Mercantile Marine; but the ship’s stores of that day consisted but of salt pork, and beef, the latter being indifferently called junk or old horse. The biscuits, too, were nothing like those now supplied on board Her Majesty’s ships. Wheat was very dear, and these sailors did not get the best of that. Inferior corn, bad package, and old age soon generated weevils, and the biscuit, when these were knocked out, was often but an empty shell. Bullied by their officers, and brutally flogged and punished for trifling faults, Jack’s life could not have been a pleasant one; and we can hardly wonder that he often deserted, and sometimes mutinied. Yet, whenever a fight was imminent, or did actually occur, all bad treatment was banished from his mind, and he fought like a Briton.
And there were many ships to man. Not only were all our dockyards hard at work building and repairing, but prizes were continually coming in; and the French men-of-war were better designed than ours – in fact, it may be said that we learned, at that time, our Naval Architecture from the prizes we took. In October, 1804, there were in commission 103 ships of the line, 24 fifty-gun vessels, 135 frigates, and 398 sloops – total 660. In March, 1806, there were 721 ships in commission, of which 128 were of the line. On January 1, 1808, there were 795 in commission, 144 being ships of the line. Many of these were taken from the French, as the following exultant paragraph from the Annual Register, August 19, 1808, will show:
“It must be proudly gratifying to the minds of Britons, as it must be degradingly mortifying to the spirit of Bonaparte, to know that we have, at this moment, in the British Navy, 68 sail of the line, prizes taken from the enemies of this country at different periods, besides 21 ships carrying from 40 to 50 guns each, 62 ships from 30 to 40 guns each, 15 carrying from 20 to 30 guns each, and 66 from 10 to 20 guns each; making a total of 232 ships.”
To man these ships, &c., some 100,000 men were needful, and as they would not come of their own will, they must be taken vi et armis. Impressing men for the King’s Naval Service had always been in use since the fourteenth century, so that it was no novelty; but it must have been hard indeed for a sailor coming from a long voyage (and they had long voyages in those days – no rushing three times round the world in a twelvemonth, and time to spare), full of hope to find his wife and children well, to be bodily seized, without even so much as landing, and sent on board a King’s ship, to serve for an indefinite period. A few extracts from the newspapers will show what a press was like.
Morning Post, January 21, 1801: “The press for seamen on the river and on shore is warmer than was ever known in any former war.”
Times, March 11, 1803: “The impress service, particularly in the Metropolis, has proved uncommonly productive in the number of excellent seamen. The returns at the Admiralty of the seamen impressed on Tuesday night amounted to 1,080, of whom no less than two-thirds are considered prime hands. At Portsmouth, Portsea, Gosport, and Cowes, a general press took place the same night. Every merchant ship in the harbours and at Spithead, was stripped of its hands, and all the watermen deemed fit for His Majesty’s service were carried off. Upwards of six hundred seamen were collected in consequence of the promptitude of the measures adopted… Government, we understand, relies upon increasing our naval force with ten thousand seamen, either volunteers, or impressed men, in less than a fortnight, in consequence of the exertions which are making in all the principal ports. Those collected on the river, and in London, will be instantly conveyed to Chatham, Sheerness, and Portsmouth. Several frigates and gun brigs have sailed for the islands of Jersey and Guernsey with impress warrants.”
Times, May 9, 1803: “On Sunday afternoon two gallies, each having an officer and press-gang in it, in endeavouring to impress some persons at Hungerford Stairs, were resisted by a party of coal-heavers belonging to a wharf adjoining, who assailed them with coals and glass-bottles; several of the gang were cut in a most shocking manner, on their heads and legs, and a woman who happened to be in a wherry, was wounded in so dreadful a manner, that it is feared she will not survive… The impress on Saturday, both above and below Bridge, was the hottest that has been for some time; the boats belonging to the ships at Deptford were particularly active, and it is supposed they obtained upwards of two hundred men, who were regulated (sic) on board the Enterprize till late at night, and sent in the different tenders to the Nore, to be put on board such ships whose crews are not completed… The impressed men, for whom there was not room on board the Enterprize, on Saturday were put into the Tower, and the gates shut, to prevent any of them effecting their escape.”
Morning Herald, December 11, 1804: “A very smart press took place yesterday morning upon the river, and the west part of the town. A great many useful hands were picked up.”
Morning Post, May 8, 1805: “The embargo to which we alluded in our Paper of Monday has taken place. At two o’clock yesterday afternoon, orders for that purpose were issued at the Custom House, and upwards of a thousand able seamen are said to have been already procured for the Navy, from on board the ships in the river.”
Morning Post, April 11, 1808: “On Saturday the hottest press ever known took place on the Thames, when an unprecedented number of able seamen were procured for His Majesty’s service. A flotilla of small smacks was surrounded by one of the gangs, and the whole of the hands, amounting to upwards of a hundred, were carried off.”
These raids on seamen were not always conducted on “rose-water” principles, and the slightest resistance met with a cracked crown, or worse. Witness a case tried at the Kingston Assizes, March 22, 1800, where John Salmon, a midshipman in His Majesty’s navy, was indicted for the wilful murder of William Jones. The facts of the case were as follow. The prisoner was an officer on board His Majesty’s ship Dromedary, lying in the Thames off Deptford. He and his lieutenant, William Wright (who was charged with being present, and assisting), went on shore on the night of the 19th of February, with nine of the crew, on the impress service; Wright had a pistol, Salmon a dirk, one of the sailors a hanger, and the rest were unarmed. After waiting some time in search of prey, the deceased, and one Brown, accompanied by two women, passed by; they were instantly seized upon, and carried to a public-house, from whence they endeavoured to effect their escape; a scuffle ensued, in the course of which the deceased called out he had been pricked. At this time three men had hold of him – a sufficient proof that he was overpowered – and whoever wounded him, most probably did so with malice prepense. The poor fellow was taken, in this state, to a boat, and thence on board a ship, where, for a considerable time, he received no medical assistance. The women, who were with him, accompanied him to the boat, and he told them that the midshipman had wounded him, and that he was bleeding to death; that every time he fetched his breath, he felt the air rushing in at the wound. He was afterwards taken to the hospital, and there, in the face of death, declared he had been murdered by the midshipman. The case was thoroughly proved as to the facts, but the prisoner was acquitted of the capital charge of murder, and I do not know whether he was ever prosecuted for manslaughter.
Men thus obtained, could scarcely be expected to be contented with their lot, and, therefore, we are not surprised to hear of more than one mutiny – the marvel is there were so few. Of course, they are not pleasant episodes in history, but they have to be written about.
The first in this decade (for the famous mutiny at the Nore occurred in the previous century), was that on board the Danäe, 20 guns, Captain Lord Proby. It is difficult to accurately ascertain the date, for it is variously given in different accounts, as March 16th, 17th, and 27th, 1800; but, at all events, in that month the Danäe was cruising off the coast of France, with some thirty of her crew, and officers, absent in prizes, and having on board some Frenchmen who had been captured on board the privateer Bordelais, and had subsequently entered the English service. On board was one Jackson (who had been secretary to Parker, the ringleader of the Nore Mutiny in 1798), who had been tried for participation in that mutiny and acquitted, since when, he had borne a good character, refusing the rank of petty officer which had been offered to him, giving as a reason, that being an impressed man, he held himself at liberty to make his escape whenever he had a chance, whereas, if he took rank, he should consider himself a volunteer.
With him as a ringleader, and a crew probably containing some fellow sufferers, and the Frenchmen, who would certainly join, on board, things were ripe for what followed. The ship was suddenly seized, and the officers overpowered, Lord Proby and the master being seriously wounded. The mutineers then set all sail, and steered for Brest Harbour, and on reaching Camaret Bay, they were boarded by a lieutenant of La Colombe, who asked Lord Proby to whom he surrendered. He replied, to the French nation, but not to the mutineers. La Colombe and the Danäe then sailed for Brest, being chased by the Anson and Boadicæa, and would, in all probability, have been captured, had not false signals been made by the Danäe that she was in chase. Lord Proby had previously thrown the private code of signals out of his cabin window. They were all confined in Dinan prison.
The Hermione, also, was carried over to the enemy by a mutinous crew; but in October, 1800, was cut out of Porto Cavello, after a gallant resistance, by the boat’s crew of the Surprise, Captain Hamilton, and brought in triumph to Port Royal, Jamaica. On this occasion justice overtook two of the mutineers, who were hanged on the 14th of August – one in Portsmouth Harbour, the other at Spithead. Another of the mutineers, one David Forester, was afterwards caught and executed, and, before he died, he confessed (Annual Register, April 19, 1802), “That he went into the cabin, and forced Captain Pigot overboard, through the port, while he was alive. He then got on the quarter deck, and found the first lieutenant begging for his life, saying he had a wife and three children depending on him for support; he took hold of him, and assisted in heaving him overboard alive, and declared he did not think he would have taken his life had he not first took hold of him. A cry was then heard through the ship that Lieutenant Douglas could not be found: he took a lantern and candle, and went into the gun-room, and found the Lieutenant under the marine officer’s cabin. He called in the rest of the people, when they dragged him on deck, and threw him overboard. He next caught hold of Mr. Smith, a midshipman; a scuffle ensued, and, finding him likely to get away, he struck him with his tomahawk, and threw him overboard. The next cry was for putting all the officers to death, that they might not appear as evidence against them, and he seized on the Captain’s Clerk, who was immediately put to death.”
I have to chronicle yet one more mutiny, happily not so tragical as the last, but ending in fearful punishment to the mutineers. It occurred principally on board the Temeraire then in Bantry Bay, but pervaded the squadron; and the culprits were tried early in January, 1802, by a court martial at Portsmouth, for “using mutinous and seditious words, and taking an active part in mutinous and seditious assemblies.” Nineteen were found guilty, twelve sentenced to death, and ten, certainly, hanged.
There seems to have been no grumble about their pay, or food, or accommodation – a sea life was looked upon as a hard one, and accepted as such. The officers, at all events, did not get paid too well, for we read in the Morning Post, October 19, 1801: “We understand the Post Captains in the Navy are to have eight shillings a day instead of six. And it is supposed that Lieutenants will be advanced to four shillings instead of three.” They occasionally got a haul in prize money – like the Lively, which in August, 1805, was awarded the sum of £200,000 for the capture of some Spanish frigates.71
Spite of everything, the naval power of England reached the highest point it has ever attained, and no matter whatever grievances they may have been suffering from, the sailors, from the admiral to the powder monkey, behaved nobly in action, and, between the Navy and Army, we had rather more prisoners of war to take care of than was agreeable. Speaking of an exchange of prisoners, the Morning Post, October 15, 1810, says: “There are in France, of all kinds of prisoners and detained persons, about 12,000; in England there are about 50,000 prisoners,” and the disproportion was so great that terms could not be come to.
