The Story of the Gordon Riots.

ONE of the last prisoners of importance committed to the Tower was Lord George Gordon--the half-insane leader of the anti-Popish outbreak known in history as the Gordon Riots.

It is no part of my business to dwell on the records of past intolerance, or to repeat the wretched tale of the injustice with which, in the eighteenth century, an ignorant and bigoted Protestantism treated the Roman Catholics of England. Suffice it to say that some of the most odious enactments in the Statute Book were repealed by Parliament in 1778, much to the satisfaction of sensible men of all parties. It was in contemplation to extend a similar measure of wise humanity to Scotland, when the fanaticism of Edinburgh and Glasgow took the alarm. Riots broke out in the grey northern metropolis, and the houses of reputed Papists were attacked and seriously damaged. A Protestant Association was established, whose members chose for their President a crazy-minded nobleman, Lord George, Gordon, whose hatred of Popery had developed into a moncmania. Intellectually he was contemptible; but he acquired a factitious importance as the aristocratic leader of a mob of zealots whose numbers and misdirected enthusiasm might render them troublesome to the State.

Lord George Gordon was a member of the House of

Commons, and took occasion, in November 1779, to inform the Lower Chamber that the indulgences which the Legislature had conceded to Popery had justly alarmed the Protestantism of Great Britain; adding that he had at his back one hundred and twenty thousand men who shared his sentiments and were prepared to give them active and efficient support. The House laughed at what was supposed to be the rhodomontade of a man with “a twist in his head;" but fanatics with twists in their heads are apt to become dangerous in times of popular excitement. At all events, Lord George had just sufficient capacity to play the part of a demagogue; and conceiving the design of overawing Parliament by a display of physical force, he summoned a public meeting at Coachmakers' Hall, on May 29th, 1780, and in the most inflammatory language harangued his hearers on the perils of Papacy, concluding with a resolution that the whole body of the Protestant Association (which had been extended to England) should assemble on the following Friday in St. George's Fields and accompany him to Westminster, to present a petition to the House of Commons. He demanded that not fewer than twenty thousand persons should attend, and proposed that they should form in four divisions, representing-(1) the Protestants of London; (2) the Protestants of Westminster; (3) the Protestants of Southwark; and (4) the Scottish residents in London. And he directed that each true Protestant should proclaim his faith by wearing a blue cockade.

Accordingly, on June 2nd, some fifty to sixty thousand fanatics and desperadoes assembled at St. George's Fieldsmen of all classes and ages, with not a few women, and even children, among them. These were marshalled by

Lord George and his lieutenants in three, instead of four, divisions, which poured, with ever-increasing tumult, over the three bridges, London, Westminster, and Blackfriars, and surged into Palace Yard, blocking up the approaches to the Houses of Parliament, and heaping insult and contumely on every Liberal peer or commoner they recognised. It was only the intrepid attitude of the Guards which prevented them from forcing the doors. Lord George Gordon marched into the Commons' Chamber, and having presented a petition-with about 120,000 signatures or "marks" attached to it-praying for a repeal of the statute recently passed in favour of the Roman Catholics, he moved that it should be referred to a Committee of the whole House. During the debate that ensued a furious crowd filled the lobby, whom Lord George several times addressed in violent language, informing them that their petition was being denounced and derided, and invoking their vengeance on the members who objected to its consideration. Some attempts were made to restrain him, but ineffectually, until Colonel Gordon, a near kinsman, approached him, and said, "My Lord George, do you intend to bring your rascally followers into the House of Commons? If you do, the first man of them that enters I will plunge my sword, not into him, but into your body."

At length a squadron of dragoons was brought on the scene; the lobby was cleared, and the rabble began to disperse. Meanwhile, in the House of Lords, a good deal of agitation had been caused by the continual arrival of peers, whose mud-bespattered clothes and dishevelled hair proclaimed the insults they had received in forcing their way through the multitude. It happened, by a strange irony of fortune, that on that very day the Duke

of Richmond rose to introduce a Bill for extending the franchise to every man of sound mind, and for restoring annual parliaments. He acknowledged the embarrassment he felt in proposing so revolutionary a measure under such inopportune circumstances. The tumult in Palace Yard was, indeed, a refutation of-or, at least, a reply to-his arguments which at the time was not easily to be overcome; and Parliamentary Reform was postponed for half a century. The two Houses adjourned without being threatened by any further outbreaks; but the mob had not retired peacefully. At the instigation, it is said, of Lord George, they had attacked, plundered, and set on fire the private chapels of the Sardinian and Bavarian ambassadors; and ultimately it had been found necessary again to call out the military. Thirteen of the rioters were then apprehended and sent to Newgate.

The next day, Saturday, passed quietly; but much mischief was being done by secret agents in stimulating the passions of the populace, with the result that on Sunday afternoon clamorous crowds surrounded the Roman Catholic chapels in Moorfields, and wrecked and burned their pulpits and altars. On Monday these outrages were continued. One cannot but be surprised at the supineness of the authorities; but when a gentleman complained to Lord Mansfield, the Chief Justice, he answered slightingly that the affair was of no importance. He was soon to be undeceived. On Monday some inkling of the danger of the situation seems to have penetrated into the Palace, and the King wrote to Lord North that he had directed the Secretaries of State to take measures for preventing riot on the morrow. "This tumult," he says, "must be got the better of, or it will encourage designing men to use it

as a precedent for assembling the people on other occasions.” Whatever measures may have been taken, their utter inadequacy was quickly proved.

About six o'clock on Tuesday evening the mob gathered in greater numbers and in a more reckless spirit than before. The ringleaders contrived to manœuvre its impact upon Newgate, with a view to the release of the prisoners, and the destruction of a building which was necessarily obnoxious to the criminal classes. On arriving in front of its grim stone walls the rioters demanded of Mr. Akerman, the governor, the release of all confined within them, but he curtly and unhesitatingly refused. By a private way he hurried into the Sessions House to acquaint the magistrates with the position of affairs and to receive their orders. They had none to give; were completely paralysed by a sense at once of responsibility and incapacity. Their inaction resulted fatally. Armed with pickaxes and sledge-hammers, the assailants thundered at the gates and walls with incessant blows; while others dragged the furniture out of the governor's house, piled it up against the prison-doors, poured oil and resin on the heap, and then set the whole on fire. The flames shot up fierce and strong, and, seizing upon the massive door, began slowly to devour it; while lighted brands, hurled over the wall, fell into the wards and yards, to the great terror of the inmates, who could not understand the meaning of this unusual commotion.

In his novel of "Barnaby Rudge" Charles Dickens has drawn a picture of this remarkable scene which is not less accurate than vivid :—

"A shout! Another! Another yet, though few know why, or what it meant. But those round the gate had