These were the principal indictments against Kemble (for he, as manager, had to bear the brunt of the riot) and the proprietors replied to them categorically—vide Morning Post, September 18, 1809:

“It is stated that the old materials of the Theatre were estimated at £25,000.For £25,000, read £1,000. The bricks were of so little value, that not one old brick was used in the building, and the greater part now lie buried near Hart Street.
It is stated that instead of twelve private boxes, they have now thirty-four, being an addition of twenty-two private boxes.For 22 read 12 additional private boxes. In fact, the Proprietors contend that they have no private boxes, as all of them are let annually to the Public. They are taken by the higher classes of society, and, by that means, the first and second circles of boxes are left free for the public at large. What the Proprietors gain by them annually, they lose nightly.
It is stated that £50,000 was received from the Insurance of the Theatre.For £50,000, read £42,000. ’Tis true that £3 or 4,000 was received from the insurance of houses, now included in the Theatre; but it was forgotten that the Proprietors paid near £28,000 for those houses, to insulate the Theatre, and render the avenues safe and commodious. The increased ground rent of which will be a heavy and lasting incumbrance on the Theatre.
It is asserted that Madame Catalani is the cause of the advance on the prices.The Proprietors have already given their reasons to the Public, which existed long before Madame Catalani’s engagement. As well might it be said that the increased prices were caused by Mrs. Siddons, whose engagement is fifty guineas a night and a clear benefit; or by the other eminent English Performers of the Theatre, whose salaries amount to £32,000.”

There was good sound sense in this refutation, yet something is wanting to explain more fully the riot which was to come, and which, at all events, was popularly supposed to relate to the structure of the building, and to the rise in prices. The following is much condensed from a contemporary account of the theatre:

“The Pit of this Theatre is very spacious.... The two Galleries are comparatively small, there not being accommodation in the upper, for more than 150 or 200 persons! The Upper Gallery is divided into five compartments, and may thus be considered a tier of five boxes, with a separate door at the back of each. These doors open into a spacious lobby, one side of which is the back of the gallery, and the other the exterior wall of the Theatre, with the windows into the street. The lobby to the middle gallery beneath is similarly situated. Under the gallery is a row of private boxes, constituting the whole third tier! They consist of 26 in number, with a private room behind each. The Carpeting was laid down in these boxes on Saturday last; but the furniture of each, and also of the adjoining room, will be according to the taste of the several occupants, among whom are some of the Royal Dukes.”

And now I have to chronicle one of the most senseless phases of public opinion that ever made a page, or a paragraph, of history. The Theatre opened on September 18, 1809, with “Macbeth” and “The Quaker,” but not one word that was delivered on the stage could be heard by the audience.

When the curtain drew up, Kemble delivered an address, which was extremely classical—all about Æschylus, Thespis, and Sophocles, of which the people present knew nothing, until they saw the next morning’s papers. Instead of listening, they sang “God save the King” with all the power of their lungs, and in good order; but that once over, then, with one consent, they began to yell “No Kembles—no theatrical tyrants—no domineering Napoleons!—What! will you fight, will you faint, will you die, for a Shilling?—No imposition!—no extortion!—English charity.—Charity begins at home.—No foreigners—No Catalanis.”

Somebody in the boxes addressed the frantic mob, but nothing was heard of his speech, and a magistrate named Read, attended by several Bow Street officers, came on the stage, and produced the Riot Act; it was no good—he could not be heard, and yet, among the audience, were many men of position, and even some of the Royal Dukes.

The second night the row was as bad, and it now was becoming organized. People brought placards, which began mildly with “The Old Prices,” and afterwards developed into all sorts of curious things. One was displayed in the first circle of the boxes, and “Townsend,[58] heading a posse of constables, rushed into the pit to seize this standard of sedition, together with the standard bearers. A contest ensued of the hottest kind, staffs and sticks were brandished in all directions; and, after repeated onsets and retreats, Townsend bore away a few of the standards, but failed in capturing the standard bearers. He retired with these imperfect trophies. But, as the oppositionists kept the field of battle, they claimed the victory, which they announced to the boxes and galleries with three cheers. The standard bearers in the boxes were not equally successful. They were but few in number, and not formed into a compact body, and had, besides, their rear and flanks open to the attack of the enemy. Some of them we saw seized from behind, and dragged most rudely out of the boxes, and treated, in every respect, with a rigour certainly beyond the law. One of them, who had all the appearance of a gentleman, was accompanied by a lady, who screamed at seeing the rudeness he suffered, and then flew out of the box to follow him. This vigorous activity on the part of the constables made the placards disappear for a time; but they were soon after hoisted again in the pit, and hailed with acclamations every time they were observed.”

On the third night the uproar was as great, many of the lights had been blown out, and the place was a perfect pandemonium; when Kemble, in dress suit of black, and chapeau bras, appeared, and obtained a momentary hearing. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, “permit me to assure you that the proprietors are most desirous to consult your wishes (loud and continued applause). I stand here, to know what you want.” If the noise and uproar could have been greater than before, it was after this brusque, and unfortunate, speech. “You know what we want—the question is insulting—Off! off! off!” For five minutes did the great man face his foes, and then he retired. Then some one in the boxes addressed the audience in a speech calculated to inflame, and augment, the riot; and Kemble once more came forward with a most sensible exposition as to the sum spent on the theatre, its appointments, and company. He might as well have spoken to the wind.

Night after night this scene of riot continued, varied only by the different noises—of bugle and tin horns, rattles, clubs, yelling, &c.—and the manifold placards, which differed each night, and were now not disturbed. There were O. P. medals struck—how many I know not—but there are three of them in the British Museum. One, which is struck both in white metal and bronze, has obv. John Bull riding an Ass (Kemble), and flogging him with two whips—Old and New Prices. Leg. FROM N TO O JACK YOU MUST GO; in exergue—