“17, Princes-street, Drury-lane, Feb. 29.
To Lord Viscount Sidmouth, &c. &c.”
After being absent some time, the messenger who carried the letter to his Lordship returned, and told her she must call again on the following day for an answer. She then inquired where her father was, and was informed that he had been examined that day before the Privy-Council, and had been committed. She then left the office in tears.
The next morning she waited at the office of the Home Department, as she had been directed, for an answer to her application. She saw Mr. Hobhouse, and was told by him, that she could not see her father till after the following Friday; and, if she would call again on the Saturday, she would probably have an order to see him. She waited in the lobby until her father was brought out, after his examination before the Privy-Council, and he looked very anxiously at her; but they were not allowed to speak to each other. She had a bundle of linen; and, when her father was conveyed to Tothill-fields prison, she followed him, and gave the linen to the governor.
About this time Waddington, the fellow who had been brought into some notoriety, by his arrest for being the bearer of a placard, the object of which was to create an unlawful assembly on Kennington Common, appeared before Mr. Hicks, the sitting magistrate at Bow-street, and with ridiculous effrontery, stated that the reason of his calling was to say that the officers had seized his books and papers, which they were very welcome to do, as he had nothing in his possession that he was ashamed of, or that could lead to any charge. His landlady, who was present when his place was searched for books and papers, told him that the officers had left a message, desiring him to attend at the office, as he was wanted there; and he consequently attended.
Mr. Hicks, the magistrate, professed himself unacquainted with the affair; but desired that inquiries should be made, and it turned out that some of the police-officers had searched his lodgings, and had seized his books and papers; but they denied having left any message for his appearance at the office, and there was no doubt but that it was a mistake of his landlady in relating to him what had passed.
The magistrate informed him that he had no charge against him. Waddington withdrew from the office, after telling the magistrate that he might always be found when wanted.
We are happy, however, to announce that this man has since relinquished politics, and taken up the more quiet occupation of porter to a tallow-chandler. From his former enthusiasm in the cause, however, it was supposed possible that he might have afforded shelter to some of his quondam friends, and accordingly the officers were directed to search his lodgings. They found no trace of radicalism, except a whole-length portrait of himself, blowing a horn, carrying a large bundle of twopenny trash under his arm, and in his hat a paper, inscribed “Order, order! Public Meeting in Smithfield on Wednesday next.” Underneath was written “Samuel Waddington, printer and publisher to the Radical Union.”
Having had occasion to introduce the names of these men, who have lately forced themselves on the notice of the Public by their absurd, but highly mischievous, interference in politics, it may not be thought altogether irrelevant if we introduce a description of the Radical Committee Room, at the White Lion, Wych-street, this being the rendezvous, or place of meeting, where these self-elected Radical Committees held their nightly meetings.
The White Lion was a public-house, but has very properly been deprived of its license by the Magistrates. It is situated a short distance from Newcastle-street, towards the New Inn; the entrance to it from the street is up a dark narrow passage, about thirty yards long. In the tap-room, over the embers of an expiring fire, sat a set of suspicious, ill-looking fellows, huddled close together; whilst at a small deal table to the right sat Mr. ——, with a book and some papers and printed bills before him; from the obscurity of the place, having no light but what proceeded from a candle placed before Mr. ——, or from that in the bar, a stranger coming in would not be able to recognise any of the faces on seeing them afterwards elsewhere. On the right hand, on entering the house, is a small parlour; here of an evening a select committee assembled, and no others were admitted. This was the room in which the most private transactions were carried on; Mr. Thistlewood or Dr. Watson always came out into the passage to speak to any person who called there on business. In a very large room up stairs, and which is occasionally used as a school-room, upwards of a hundred ill-looking persons have assembled of an evening; in it the open committee and loose members of the society met; it had ranges of forms all round and across the room, and had hardly ever more than two or three candles to illuminate it. Here their processions, &c., were arranged; their flags, &c., kept; whilst the more private business was carried on below in the parlour.
We now resume our narrative of the proceedings previous to the final commitment of the prisoners for trial.