William Tait, the recipient of James Browne’s letter in 1835, founded Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine in 1832, claiming that “there is a demand at this time for a magazine of liberal principles, of independent spirit… bringing out the sympathies of mankind” . A strong supporter of the Whig party and a member of the Edinburgh Citizens’ Society that provided hospitality to prominent Radical figures such as Daniel O’Connell, Tait was deeply sympathetic towards the push for reform; that his magazine was founded in the same year that saw the passing of the landmark 1832 Great Reform Act was no coincidence. The attached essay to Browne’s letter, entitled ‘the Spirit of the Time’ which “traces a fitful, tempestuous half-century of political liberalization from American Independence to the present Reform crisis” , was first published within the April edition of Tait’s 1832 series, and the original article was more extensive that Browne’s extract (likely because Browne’s excerpt was crammed onto one side of parchment!). Browne copied up to the penultimate line of the fourth page of the article (“perfidy, too, did its part”), therefore covering the American War of Independence, the French Revolution and Europe’s reaction to it, and Napoleon’s rise to power and his subsequent fall from grace. The article continues past Browne’s extract by stating that although “rivers of blood had apparently been poured out in vain” over the Napoleonic Wars, these sacrifices were not fruitless but rather saw that the monarchy could never be “re-constituted on its ancient principles; aristocracy received a blow from which it could never recover… and the abominably iniquitous principle of primogeniture… [was] forever abrogated” . This new order asserted its legacy, since “the generation which grew up in the course of its progress became unconsciously the inheritors of its principles… persons who are… resolute to maintain and defend all the great interests its created” . The piece also comments on the suicide of Viscount Castlereagh, announcing that although through his work the “old Bourbon incubus” was restored in France, his death saw the demise of “the system of Pitt… [and the] Holy Alliance” , before finally subsequently turning to the July Revolution of 1830. The Revolution established the July Monarchy of Louis Philippe I, who promised to follow a characteristically centrist juste milieu (‘happy medium’) form of rule. This is something that Tait’s clearly supported within the early 1830s, expressing “confidence in our present rulers” , especially since the House of Lords was characteristically hostile to the passing of the 1832 Reform Act, in opposition to what the article deemed to be the “united wishes of the King, the Commons, and the people” . Tait’s was conceived as a “Radical riposte” to Blackwood’s Magazine, a Tory-supporting publication which itself was borne out of a need to counter the Whiggish Edinburgh Review. This appears to be best illustrated through articles such as that which focuses on Manchester, a place which, the piece professes, “the public are very imperfectly acquainted” . Within this case study, the author charts the anti-Radical sentiment of the city in the late 18th century, with the people “all staunch Church-and-King men, who took great delight in hunting through the streets, hooting and abusing any poor reformer of that day” , as well as the tussles that occurred within the early 19th century between the Conservative and Radicals (or, as the article somewhat sarcastically labels them, the “respectables” and the “disaffected”). The piece also covers the Peterloo Massacre of August 1819 and the public reformist meetings that were arranged upon the success of the 1830 July Revolution in France . One particularly interesting additional inclusion within the article, however, is that it despite it clearly carrying pro-reformist messages the piece explicitly condemns Radicalism as a movement. For instance, when discussing the political parties of Manchester, they deem the Radicals to be “led by imprudent and violent individuals, and have done much to being political public meetings into disrepute” . I find this especially significant because of the nature of Tait’s as a Radical publication; it seems odd that a magazine that endorses Radical politics would permit the inclusion of an article that so evidently criticises the makeup of the movement and their impact. This decision may have been made for several reasons. Firstly, although the article does not favour Radicalism in terms of its composition, it is clearly sympathetic to the reformist agenda and thus correlates largely with the aims of Radicalism as a movement; Tait may have overlooked this short passage in favour of the wider message. Secondly, Tait may have actively distinguished between working-class Radicals and their representatives in Parliament. Radical MPs could not have been credibly labelled as “imprudent or violent individuals”, and so the editorial position of the magazine could have been to support Radicalism as a political ideology advocated within Parliament by elected officials, but to distance themselves from its working-class body. I find this interpretation not to be particularly convincing though, not least because the distinction between Radical MPs and their working-class constituents/supporters was not always tidy; Scottish Radical MP Joseph Hume, (who, with the support of Tait, established the Calton Martyrs Monument beginning in 1837) was a proponent of militant Radicalism through his early support of the London Working Men’s Association, alongside his formation of the Radical Constitutional newspaper in 1836 . Thirdly, it is possible that Tait allowed its inclusion for tactical benefit on two fronts, both of which pertain to Tait’s readership; although he was an “independent radical” , Tait was also explicit in his desire for his magazine not to express allegiance to any one political party. Tait may have seen the article’s slander on the Manchester Radicals as motivation to prove wrong their assumptions on those with Radical beliefs and consequently inspire, rather than diminish, the Radical cause (this may have been left to the individual in terms of what their reaction consisted of – namely, either to reject the labels of imprudence and violence and pursue their Radical beliefs through a more moderate methodology, or to proudly adopt such branding and wield it within their struggle). In tandem, although the piece lambasts Radicalism, it is much more glowing in its assessment of Liberalism. Since the readership of Tait’s also consisted of a large number of Whig and Liberal Party supporters, the decision to retain this passage of the article could have been made in a bid to reconcile the makeup of the various pro-reformist parties together and unite them in a common front against the Tories. This is especially pertinent since the Lichfield House Compact, which had been passed in the same year, was an agreement made by the Radicals and the Irish Repeal Party to act as one political body against Tory opposition. Tait may have been trying to employ a similar tactic through his retention of this article. Notable contributors to the magazine included John Stuart-Mill, Thomas Caryle, Sir Edwin Chadwick and Sir William Molesworth . But although the magazine clearly encouraged writers both Scottish and otherwise to contribute, Odile Boucher Rivalain in article ‘Reviewing Radical Poetry in Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine and The Westminster Review in the 1830s and 1840s’ observes that Tait’s could not deny its inherent Scottishness. This may have “irritated” the young Radicals who had associated themselves with the early Westminster Review but became disillusioned with it after it fell into financial difficulties in 1828 and was eventually sold to another interested party. This in turn prompted the formation of the London Review, which was financially backed by Molesworth . As Rivalain’s piece explicates, the establishment of the London Review enabled reviews of ‘Radical Poetry’ to come to the forefront, which had been previously ignored by its predecessor . Through the publication of seminal articles, Tait’s “had already drawn the focus of the public to this type of poetry” . But although Tait’s was the “champion” of Radical Poetry within the 1830s, the London Review also made a distinct effort to prioritise literature that “[awakened] man’s moral conscience… and [motivated] him to adopt a responsible attitude and play an active part in society” . Tait’s combined with Johnstone's Edinburgh Magazine in 1834, a publication initiated by John and Christian Isobel Johnstone which itself was founded in 1832, in light of the developments surrounding the Great Reform Act. James Bertram, in his Some Memories of Books, Authors, and Events, labels Mrs Johnstone as the “working genius” of the magazine, who “passed judgement on the articles offered and… [contributed] both in fiction and criticism” . Johnstone, in keeping with the progressive stance of Tait’s, was also an early feminist, and it was rumoured that although her husband had agreed with William Blackwood (the owner of the politically conservative Blackwood’s Magazine) to engage in a joint venture to buy the copyright of the Edinburgh Weekly Chronicle, the agreement was eventually called off because of their contrasting political opinions . Other corollaries that occurred as a result of the merger of Johnstone’s and Tait’s were a reduction in price to the magazine, as keeping with the wishes of the Johnstones that it could be available to as wide a sect of the public as possible, alongside the significant fact that Mrs Johnstone became “the first woman to serve as paid editor of a major Victorian periodical” . Lastly, it is worth mentioning that in the same year that Johnstone became editor of the magazine, Tait’s was also intimately involved with accusations made by Peter MacKenzie to Alexander Richmond. As discussed in my post on Richmond, MacKenzie attacked Richmond on various charges, such as but not limited to the claims that Richmond fabricated the entire plot and that he specifically acted as an agent provocateur. Tait’s published the last of MacKenzie’s books – namely The Exposure of the Spy System - outlining these accusations; Richmond in return “raised an action against Tait’s London booksellers, Simpson and Marshall” , but Richmond was nonsuited in the trial, and hence the defence was successful .

1832 and 1833 were immensely significant years for Scottish reform. 1832 saw the Scottish equivalent of the 1832 Great Reform Act, more formally known as the Representation of the People Act 1832, passed around the same time as it did in England and Wales. 1833 was noteworthy in terms of Burgh (a type of autonomous municipal corporation – essentially a town – in Scotland) reform, since both the Burgh Reform Act and the Burgh Police (Scotland) Act were passed in this year. Much like in England and Wales, the 1832 Scottish Reform Act greatly boosted the electorate, ensuring that suffrage was no longer a privilege that belonged to a select few families. 60,000 Scottish male citizens received the right to vote overnight, magnifying the electorate from 5,000 inhabitants to 65,000. In percentage terms, the passing of the act saw a growth in representation from 0.2% to 13% of the male population, a mark-up of 1400% (as opposed to an 80% increase in England) . It is also worth noting that this progression in representation continued to gather speed as the 19th century went on. By 1867, about one-third of males were able to vote in Scotland, a figure consistent with the electoral composition of England and Wales . And with the passing of the Third Reform Act in 1884, which applied to the whole of the United Kingdom, all men paying an annual rental of £10 and all those holding land valued at £10 now had the vote regardless of whether they lived in the countryside or urban areas . But there continued to be exceptions. The ballot remained non-secret post-1832, and landowners could also legally manipulate the vote by distributing £10 gifts so as to enfranchise those living in their jurisdiction who were willing to endorse them in upcoming elections . Moreover, although sweeping changes were effectuated in 1884, live-in-servants, soldiers housed in barracks and (under the principle of ‘no taxation with representation’) those who did not pay rates still could not vote . And women, of course, had to wait until 1918 before they received enfranchisement. Aside from increasing the electorate, the 1832 Scottish Reform Act also had implications for the burghs and counties which sent MPs to Parliament. Edinburgh and Glasgow now had two MPs (in clear contrast to the situation pre-1832 explicated above). ‘Parliamentary Burghs’ such as Paisley were established alongside other older ‘Royal Burghs’, including such as Aberdeen and Dundee, who sent MPs to Parliament for the first time . Although, unlike the burghs, the counties continued to elect one MP per county, there were exceptions to six counties who, prior to the passage of the Act, elected an MP only in alternate Parliaments. This setup was amended in 1832 – but the solutions varied between each constituency pairing. Clarkmannanshire would be merged with Kinross-shire, and Cromarty and Nairnshire with their respective neighbouring counties – namely, Ross and Elginshire . Buteshire and Caithness had, despite being geographically disparate from each other, prior to the 1832 Act sent representatives alternately to Parliament. The passing of the Act saw both Buteshire and Caithness each send one of their own. A year later, two notable acts were passed which further concerned burgh reform and representation. Firstly, the 1833 Burgh Reform Act “swept away the corruption of self-perpetuating town councils by introducing proper elections for town councillors” instead of elections led by the councils. For instance, it introduced “annual elections of councillors by men with the same qualifications as parliamentary electors, for the annual election of one-third of the councillors” . Moreover, although the 1833 Burgh Reform Act did not weed out all such privileges – for instance, Royal Burghs were allowed to keep their own registers of sasines (a legal document that records the transfer of ownership, usually a sale or an inheritance, of a piece of land or of a building ) post-1832 - such benefits were rooted out of all but the largest and most powerful Royal Burghs by later 20th century reform . Interestingly, municipal reform had been attempted over ten years prior to the passing of both 1833 bills by Lord Archibald Hamilton, MP for Lanarkshire from 1802 to until his death 1827. Opposition to the bill ostensibly derived from concerns that change to the municipalities would “violate the treaty of union and infringe chartered rights”, but de facto disdain for bill came from the fear that “municipal reform would entail parliamentary reform” . Hamilton’s advocation for reform did enact change in the shape of minor economic reform (burgesses were allowed to complain to the Lord Exchequer if they felt that town funds were being mismanaged), but reformists lamented that the bill left untouched the self-elective principle which they deemed to be the “real root of evil” that was preventing meaningful change . Hansard sheds further light on the mood of the reformists; a debate on the bill on the 17th of June 1822 saw that although the Lord Advocate argued that the bill was “consistent with the report of the committee up stairs, and that it went directly to remedy the evils complained of”, Hamilton rebutted that in no way did the bill’s passing assuage “the abuses complained of by the inhabitants of the royal burghs of Scotland, and confirmed by the three reports of committees of that House” . He further argued that “to call it a remedy for these admitted abuses, was a total misapplication of terms… [as it] did not meet the paramount abuse of self-election, from which alone so many mischiefs originated” . Joseph Hume echoed the thoughts of Hamilton, asserting that “no effectual relief could be given, unless by a modification of the absurd and dangerous principle of self-election. The defect of this measure was, that it did not go to the root of the evil” . Indeed – until 1833 – nothing would. The Burgh Police Act, of the same year, implemented two significant reforms alongside the changes brought about by the 1833 Burgh Reform Act. The first was the ability for burghs to adopt powers that would see an improvement in various services within the burgh, such as cleaning, lighting, paving and water supply . The second saw royal burghs, as well as burghs of barony, be permitted to hold elections for police commissioners to ensure the safety of the burgh . However, Michael Pugh notes that despite (or perhaps as a result of) its lofty ambition, the Act was “more effective in principle than in practice, due to significant defects in its design” . One of the most notable defects Pugh spotlights was the sheer inability for burghs to access funding from taxation and loans, meaning that even Scotland’s larger, more wealthier towns failed to fund drainage, water and sewage schemes . Moreover, new burghs such as Johnstone and Galston were not even eligible for this funding as the Act did not cover the erection of new towns . Its ‘partner’ act in England and Wales, the 1835 Municipal Corporations Act, entailed similar reforms for English and Welsh boroughs; that act would be repealed 10 years earlier than the 1833 Burgh Police Act with the 1882 Municipal Corporations Act, although the Police Act would undergo changes before 1892 with acts in 1847 and 1850. These tweaks did not ultimately assuage the feeling that burghs required “more extensive and wider-ranging powers” to combat the problems highlighted in 1833. These powers were granted in the 1892 Burgh Police Act, seeing commissioners being given authority to “[fix] the width and level of new streets [and] the making [and maintaining]… of sewers and drains” . It also specified that “power should be given to contiguous burghs to take joint action in constructing sewers” . In terms of police commissioners, as David Barrie explicates in his 2007 article ‘'Epoch-Making' Beginnings to Lingering Death: The Struggle for Control of the Glasgow Police Commission, 1833-46’, although some police boards in small towns continued to co-exist with reformed town councils (displaying the presence and impact of both Scottish municipal reform acts in 1833), the vast majority of elected police commissions within larger cities were incorporated in local government throughout the mid-late 19th century . Pugh further posits that “the local autonomy conceded under such legislation was typically conditional and circumscribed in practice”, with Parliament in Westminster enjoying sovereignty (as it does in the present-day as per the constitution) and therefore demonstrated reluctance to vest sovereign power on a municipal, local level . Moreover, “the general police legislation did not entertain burghs forming across county lines, even where this would have been most practicable or desirable” , reflecting the lack of rational governance that underpinned the conditional and often-restricted application of the legislation. He also highlights that although police burgh representatives were not permitted to style themselves as provost (chief magistrate) bailie (magistrate) or councillor until 1900, in reality this presented no barrier to them doing so . This, combined with other aspects of the new police burghs that intended to provide a false sense of history and tradition to what were essentially fledgling communities (such as the establishment of custom-built town halls), could imbue an observer with the notion that the act lacked significance or potency, and therefore needed to be cloaked in “ersatz historical provenance and ceremony” to make-up for its shortcomings. But Pugh is clear that this should not legitimately inform one’s judgement of the 1833 Police Act. For all its flaws, Pugh states, the Police Act (and indeed the Burgh Reform Act as well) importantly symbolised a concession of the principle of local self-government . This represented the presence of so-called ‘civic republicanism’ in Scotland, where administration of a community is entrusted to the people of that community rather than a higher, centralised power, in turn bolstering the notion of ‘civic nationalism’ which was growing within Scottish towns and urban communities during the early-mid 19th century . The 1833 Acts provided the crucial first step in the push for local self-government, enabling further progress in subsequent years demonstrated through the passing of an improved Police of Scottish Towns Act in 1850 which answered calls for “an enabling framework for local self-government” – in other words, a practical apparatus for the powers gleaned by burghs as a result of the seminal legislation passed in 1833.

This colourful illustration of costumes of the Paris carnival from 1830 bears French and German descriptions. The characters depicted stem from various European carnival or dramatic characters: The harlequin from the Italian commedia dell'arte, Hanswurst from Germany, Don Quichotte from Spain or Madame Angot from France. It highlights the rich European cultural background Hanswurst, the key character in Rhenish carnival, stems from. Furthermore, it emphasises the deep cultural connections that facilitated political engagement and politicisation through carnival in Germany from the 1820s onwards.

The 1833 Letter from the governor of the Rhineprovince regards King Frederick William III’s complaint of receiving petitions from ‘representatives of the people’ outside of the sitting of the Landtag. In the king's understanding, representatives could not exist whenever the provincial assembly is not sitting. It highlights how little the Prussian King was inclined towards ruling in a representative system or allowing the drafting of regional constitutions according to conditions he agreed to at the Congress of Vienna in 1815. Following Frederick William III’s death in 1840, his son Frederick William IV was deemed a promising change of leadership due to his friendly relations to the Rhineland. By 1849, however, the Prussian king’s view on progressive, liberal politics and the establishment of a German state and constitution had reverted back to those of his father and he rejected petitioners from the Frankfurt Assembly offering him the crown of German emperor. The instalment of a Rhenish provincial assembly that sat for the first time in 1826 in Düsseldorf might not have been the most obvious and immediate success democrats had imagined, as it was organised through representation of estates (nobility, privileged land owners, cities, small landowners) and thus restricted access and representation. However, it facilitated formation of public opinion through assembly debates on church-state relations, Jewish emancipation, local government reform, public finances being balanced between eastern and western parts of Prussia. Petitioning became a new means to influence assembly debates in Düsseldorf as well as Berlin, spawning a wave of petitions regarding the new constitution, respectively the attempts of change to the Rhenish law during the 1830s and 40s. This method, under penmanship of lawyers and Rhenish officials, was successful in 1843 as the Rhenish law defeated the Prussian-proposed antiquated Allgemeines Landrecht. While Rhenish law, i.e. French law, has public hearings and juries, Prussian law operated in secret without involvement of the public until a ruling has taken place and is published in writing. Ultimately, the Rhenish law system provided a model for Prussian and German reform following 1848. By 1848/9 petitions that reached the National Parliament in Frankfurt and the Prussian Parliament set out and repeated the demands and content of the election campaigns and manifestos. They comprised of, among others, universal suffrage, freedom of speech, press and association as well as confession and religion, safety of labour rights, personal freedom and the judiciary and state-funded education.

A series of riots in agricultural districts, which took place against widespread agitation for political reform, together with political uncertainty and economic depression. The riots, which had a sense of contagion about them, began in Kent in late August with two nights of attacks on farms and the destruction of threshing machines, and they continued throughout the autumn until the end of the year, although in different forms and with different demands throughout southern and eastern England, with the most troubled counties being Wiltshire and Hampshire (although reporting was not always reliable). The destruction of labour-saving machinery, predominantly threshing machines, was the most common form of protest, but there were also instances of hayrick and barn burning. These were particular targets, but there was a deeper sense of grievance at the pauperisation of rural labour. Protests were often accompanied by the sending of threatening letters, with the signature 'Captain Swing'. Historians argue that the widespread and accelerated character of the riots were a function of the failure of the authorities to react rapidly and punitively, as they had to agricultural rioting in 1816 and 1822. But they also suggest that the rioters themselves were often implicitly appealing to ‘moral economy ‘ traditions of rural protest (that assumed a give and take between landowners and those working on the land, and counted on a degree of tolerance towards protest), and that the changing character of land ownership and agricultural employment meant that these older traditions were now breaking down, to the cost of the protesters. Initially lenient sentences might have been taken as signalling traditional sympathy for their cause, but they were followed by far more punitive measures. Agricultural rioters also seem to have been aware that growing demands across the country for political reform meant that there was some collateral sympathy for their cause.  And, faced with these demands, the government dithered, bing unsure how best to react.  Ironically, when a new Whig administration was formed at the end of November 1830, it took a much more determined stance against the rioters, and it was able to rely on wider public support in doing so, because it was willing to press for political reforms (which was very much the wider and more popular interest outside agricultural communities). The results were harsh: in Hampshire alone, 300 men were tried by a special Commission in December 1830, and 101 being sentenced to death – although all but 3 of the sentences were commuted.  117 men from Hapshire were transported to Australia (447 in total were transported to Australia and Tasmania from 21 Ccounties). A great deal is often swept under the label of Swing Riots - such as the Otmoor Riots of 1830 (q.v.). However, it is important to sift through the evidence and distinguish the eruption of long-standing local grievances from the more general contagion of anti-machinery hostility and economic distress in the south and east of the country. The image is by Cruikshank, and represents Captain Swing as the devil, indicating a turn in sympathies against the rioters.

This oil-sketch by Benjamin Robert Haydon depicts the 'Meeting of the Unions on NewhalI Hill' on 16 May 1832. It is a record of an open-air meeting convened by the Birmingham Political Union in support of the Great Reform Bill of 1832. The site, Newhall Hill in Birmingham hosted no less than eleven meetings between 1817 and 1837. The location was perfect for the purpose due to its proximity to the centre of Birmingham, within easy walking distance from the many workshops in the town. The site was a disused rock-sand quarry which formed a perfect amphitheatre, bisected by 'Miss Caroline’s Canal', a private branch of the Birmingham and Fazeley navigation commissioned in 1809 by Caroline Colmore to facilitate the transportation of the sandstone blocks to building sites around the midlands. This particular meeting, held on 16 May 1832, served to celebrate the recall of Earl Grey as Prime Minister after a failed attempt by the Duke of Wellington to form a Tory government designed to introduce a diluted version of Parliamentary reform. Grey accepted the office on the condition that King William IV would create new peers to carry the Bill through the House of Lords. In contrast to two recent meetings on the site demanding reform, the mood this time was celebratory. The Rev. Hugh Hutton is seen opening the meeting with a prayer of thanksgiving to God for the success of Reform. The vast audience of reputedly 50,000 attendees echoed Hutton's fervent 'Amen, Amen!' Also pictured is Chairman Thomas Attwood who took over proceedings after Hutton’s introduction. Hayden was unsuccessful in obtaining sufficient £1 subscriptions from reformers to execute the final version of the oil painting, so the painting hanging in Birmingham Art Gallery remains a sketch.

Between 1815 and 1830 King William I ruled over the United Kingdom of the Netherlands, which roughly covered present-day Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg. In 1830, the Belgian Revolution broke out, which led to Belgian independence. It started on 25 August 1830 with the performance of La Muette di Portici in the Royal Theatre of the Mint in Brussels. The opera, composed by Daniel Auber to a libretto of Eugène Scribe and Geramin Delavigne, was about the Neapolitan fisherman Masaniello, who led the revolt against the Spanish regime in 1647. The second act contained a duet, entitled 'Mieux vaut mourir' with the aria 'Amour sacré de la patrie'. The lyrics appealed to the growing discomfort with the regime of King William I and aroused strong national sentiments: 'Amour sacré de la patrie, / Rends-nous l’audace et la fierté; / A mon pays je dois la vie. / Il me devra sa liberté' (Holy love for the fatherland / Give us courage and pride / To my country I owe my life / It will owe its liberty to me). Before the opera had even finished, people stormed the streets, screaming 'A bas les Hollandois' (Away with the Dutch!). Riots broke out and buildings were destroyed. It was the beginning of a series of armed conflicts, which ended in 1832, but it was not until 1839 that the Dutch king officially recognised the new Belgian state.

Charles Jameson Grant's 'The Political Drama' is a satirical series critiquing the political and social order of Britain. Titled 'The Five Plagues of the Country', this particular print attacks the moral corruption of the powerful. Grant shows them to be under the influence of the devil ('I have all five'). His critique of the weakness and the impending downfall of the country through these corrupt figures illustrates growing popular frustration with the establishment. Although not as well known as earlier generations of caricaturists (Gillray, Woodward, Newton, Fores, Cruikshank, and others, Grant was one of the most incisive satirists of his time.

In the run up to the 1832 Reform Act, the conflict between the House of Commons and the House of Lords was represented in this cartoon as one between 'democracy' and 'aristocracy' - but its depiction of 'democracy' is also a set of implicit references to the French Revolution of 1830. Moreover, the contrast between aristocracy and democracy would also have been a recognisable reference to the French Revolution of 1789. In the struggle to pass the Reform Bill in 1832, the House of Lords was initially deeply resistant, as was the King. This provoked a series of riots across England with those in Bristol being especially destructive.

A Yeovil ‘Riot Jug’ awarded to all members of the Mudford Yeomanry Cavalry for ‘their manly and forbearing character’ in facing and forcibly dispersing the crowd. Inscription: 'Presented By The Inhabitants of Yeovil & it's vicinity in testimony of their approval of the conduct of the Mudford Troop Of Yeomanry Cavalry during the Riots in that Town in 1831. To Mr Wm Marden' The cause of the October 1831 riot arose from the defeat of William Ponsonby, the Whig Reform candidate, by Lord Ashley in a Dorset Parliamentary election at Blandford. There were allegations that Lord Ashley’s agents had behaved corruptly in the election, and the protests led to rioting in Blandford and Sherborne. The worst injury incurred on the day was when one of the Yeomanry shot himself in the leg.