"To the castle!" - the Nottingham riots of 1831

 

“To the Castle!” - In today’s tale from Watnall Hall, we’ll focus in on that night of rioting in 1831 that led to Nottingham Castle being torched. There are plenty of tales to tell and Colonel Rolleston of Watnall Hall was in the thick of the action leading his Watnall Troop of the South Notts Yeomanry against the rioters. There’s also a poignant tale linking Watnall Hall to the “mad, bad and dangerous to know” celebrity poet Lord Byron.

By October 1831, Nottingham already had a bit of a reputation. Since the 1760s there had been a riot in the town every other year, sparked by almost anything: markets flooded with cheap imported fabrics? Riot! The king’s birthday? Riot! The price of cheese too high? Riot! These riots were obviously not without cause and, to quote the great William Cobbett, “I defy you to agitate any fellow with a full stomach” - many of Nottingham’s disturbances were due to high food prices, poverty wages and destitution. However, the town’s radicalism was also enflamed by another source: politics. Nottingham had an election riot back in 1754, burnt effigies in the Old Market Square denouncing the French Revolution in the 1790s, an anti-Tory riot in 1802 (could another of those be coming?) and, in 1812, brawls in the streets between royalists and republicans over whether you should stand up for the National Anthem.

1831 was different still. By this time great changes had come to Nottingham as part of the Industrial Revolution: the city's population was booming but there was no space for new housing. The expansion of the city was blocked to the west by the Duke of Newcastle’s Nottingham Park (today's upmarket Park Estate) and Lord Middleton’s estate at Wollaton Hall, and to the east by Colwick parish which was largely owned by the Musters family of Colwick Hall. The north and south boundaries were ‘common’ land which was allocated by lottery to 250 burgessess and freeholders, who defended their rights to the arable land as fiercely as the larger landowners so the surrounding green belt effectively enclosed the city.

In-filling with cramped, insanitary working-class hovels was the only way of accommodating the swarming inhabitants. Conditions worsened with lowering wages and unemployment particularly for growing numbers of Framework knitters. Thousands of men and women trudged the streets with banners inscribed: 'Pity Our Children' and 'We Ask for Bread'. The town was described as 'the worst slum in the Empire apart from Bombay.' Workers' frustration at a system that denied them any say in local or national affairs produced regular explosions. There was a cheese riot, a meat riot and a bread riot, and the government's usual answer was to reinforce the local garrison. Of the 30,000 people living in Nottingham in 1830, half were on poor relief and out of 1,100 cases of cholera, 290 were fatal. Agitation for parliamentary reform gripped in England in the early months of 1831 and at the May election, Nottingham returned two pro reform candidates.

On Sunday 9 October, after a night at the Goose Fair, hundreds of people assembled beside the White Lion public house (which is still on Clumber Street and most recently filled with slot machines), awaiting the arrival of the mail coach. The news they eagerly sought was whether the Reform Bill had passed in the House of Lords, which would have extended the vote to most men with a small holding of property (sorry, women and the working class) and ending some corrupt voting practices. Leading the opposition to these reforms was Henry Pelham Clinton, the fourth Duke of Newcastle and owner of Nottingham Castle. Cold and pompous, the Duke inherited his Dukedom when ten years-of-age and had little conception of what it meant to be anything else.

A big man with a loud voice, he loved making passionate gesticulations in a grand manner. Even the Duke of Wellington, not exactly a progressive, declared: 'There never was such a fool.' The Duke once admitted “I have only to show my face to cause a riot”.

When the mail coach arrived and the news read out, Nottingham first heard that the Reform Bill had been defeated. An eyewitness at the White Lion, a Mrs Gilbert, described the mood as “ripe for every form of mischief” and soon the crowd started getting rowdy. "Stones and brickbats were being thrown at windows in various directions. The Mayor hastened to the scene of action, and whilst exhorting the throng to refrain from acts of violence, was knocked down by a severe blow on the neck and much injured.". 

From this point until the Tuesday, two days later, the streets of Nottingham became the scene of fierce clashes between soldiers and yeomanry against “the mob”. Windows were smashed along the rows of shops near the Old Market Square. Demonstrators carried various placards reading such as “Down with the boroughmongers, down with the Duke” and “The King, liberty, and reform”. 

At dusk on Sunday, the Riot Act was read to little heed. As the military begin to disperse the crowds, the rioters moved their focus and targeted other places: Bradshaw’s wharf on Leenside, food is taken from Sharpe’s millers on Mansfield Road, Cooke’s grocers on Chapel Bar and, fittingly after the 1766 cheese riot, North's cheesemongers. Overnight too the office of the Nottingham Journal is attacked.

By Monday morning, the crowds had returned with 15,000 peacefully filling the Old Market Square to listen to the Mayor (still nursing a sore neck no doubt) and pro-reform orators asking for calm. The Town Clerk, perhaps over enthusiastically, stands the troops down. As the meeting breaks up, most of the crowd seem placated but a few hardcore groups disperse looking for trouble. In Sneinton shops are attacked, windows are again smashed at grocers, bakers and homes of town officials. 

At this point, about 3pm, the Mayor calls for the military again but "...disturbances at Derby had drawn off part of the troops from the Barracks, so that Colonel Thackwell had but a small disposable force, but this was divided into separate detachments, each one having a magistrate at its head, which, on the least alarm, instantly hastened to the scene of action, and, for about two hours, they were galloping in every direction". 

Over on the Forest, the famous line of windmills are attacked – the flour stolen, and the sailcloth slashed. But for the prompt arrival of a party of Hussars, the whole mill would have been demolished. The mob in Sneinton is aware of the news and they arm themselves – pulling up railings on Notintone Street to create rudimentary pikes. 

Their fury settles on John Musters, a strict Nottingham magistrate who owns Colwick Hall. The mob marches to Colwick and sacks the property, including drinking Magistrate Musters’ sizeable wine cellar! Mary Chaworth-Musters, the unrequited teenage sweetheart of bad boy celebrity poet and local lad Lord Byron, is the magistrate’s wife and is at home in the hall. She’d grown up at Annesley Hall where Byron had known her and in her youth had been to the glamourous balls that Watnall Hall was famous for. But tonight the rioters start several fires forcing her, with her daughter and servants, to flee to the garden and hide in the cold, damp shrubbery overnight. She was already in poor health and it’s said she never recovered from the shock and died a few months later. 

Meanwhile, back with the rioters, it is at this point that the famous yell goes up – a cry of “to the Castle!”. If you could ransack the house of a local lawmaker, why not the house of a duke! During this attack at Colwick, the mob from the Forest had armed and attacked the House of Correction on St John’s Street (which would now be next to PRZYM/Ritzy/Palais depending on your age!). The troops and constables, dealing with this attack, were unaware of the group now marching along the river toward Castle Rock. At around 7:30pm, they have reached Wheeler Gate and are smashing up houses before they reach and then storm the Castle, guarded by a solitary gatekeeper. 

The rioters loot and ransack the building, which had been unoccupied for several years and build a giant bonfire in the basement which rips through the house.  

The Derby Mercury reported "About nine o’clock, the spectacle was awfully grand, and viewed from whatever point, the conflagration presented an exhibition such as seldom witnessed. The grand outline of the building remained entire whilst immense volumes of flames poured forth at the windows, and in some places were seen through the green foliage of the trees. Thousands of people thronged the Castle-yard and every spot that commanded a sight of the fire. Between the hours of nine and ten, the conflagration had reached its height; the town was comparatively free from tumult, and thousands thronged the Castle-yard, to gaze with mingled feeling on the dreadfully novel spectacle... a tremendous sacrifice to the demon of anarchy and crime”. "

It is stated that the costly tapestries of the castle were freely sold after these events by the rioters for 3/- per yard.

By Tuesday morning Nottingham Castle had become nothing more than a charred hulk. Sadly, the bodies of two children, had probably died exploring the smouldering ruins, were also found. During the night the main body of rioters had headed down Derby Road clashing with troops. An attack on Wollaton Hall was only stopped by a full cavalry charge. Overnight too the Nottinghamshire Yeomanry had been called up to deal with the rioters, giving the troops some needed reinforcements. The main troublemakers of the crowd continued down Derby Road making it as far as Lowe’s mill in Beeston, which was also torched, while the Yeomanry began forcibly dispersing the crowds in the Old Market Square. On Bridlesmith Gate two men are shot by the troops during repeated skirmishes. At 5pm, the Mayor proclaims a curfew and by 7pm the streets of Nottingham are clear of people, while the Duke’s mansion smoulders atop the hill. 

As the embers cooled, the justice system began its work. Framework knitter John Armstrong from Pleasley (26), bobbin and carriage maker George Hearson (22) and boatman George Beck from Wollaton (20), who had also been the tap boy at the Eclipse pub on Chapel Bar, were hanged for their part in the riots – not specifically for the torching of the Castle but for Colwick Hall and for the mill in Beeston. Six more are transported to Australia.

In August 1832, a special court, awarded the Duke of Newcastle a sum of £21,000 as compensation for the destruction of the Castle. As a silent rebuke to the town, the Duke left the ruined shell of the building un-repaired for this rest of his life and it would remain a blackened ruin for the next 45 years. The photograph of the ruin at the top of the article was taken in c.1870. Finally it was let to the Corporation of Nottingham in 1875 on a 500 years' lease. Suitable alterations were made to the buildings and grounds and it was opened to the public on July 3rd, 1878, as a Museum of Fine Art.

Source : LeftLion website; Transactions of the Thoroton Society, 32 (1928); The Date-Book of Remarkable and Memorable Events Connected with Nottingham and Its Neighbourhood. 1750-1850 by John Frost Sutton. There's also an excellent castle history article here

All of the other "Tales From Watnall Hall" in the series are available here