Garrick's Pupil Part 17

A cloudless sun rose upon the 2d of June, 1780. Before six o'clock a large crowd filled Saint George's Fields and the neighborhood. A certain number of the men sought each other and stood in groups as if in obedience to a previous word of command. They talked together in low tones and wore a sombre air of resolution. A great number of humble folk and shop-keepers had come hither at the request of their clergymen, convinced that they were destined to do a pious work in repulsing the religious joke of which their fathers had rid themselves; though from their very bearing it was evident that these worthies were ready to do more barking than biting. A mult.i.tude of the curious surrounded them, resolved to see the show out, though it should cost them a cracked pate or two. Occasionally a face betrayed fierce expectation of disorder, a sort of presentiment of what might occur; but the great day still hung heavily on their hands, and the men felt that their hour had not yet come, and that they must leave it to the psalm-singers and idlers to lead the way. About eleven o'clock Lord George Gordon appeared, and was received with acclamation. Mounted upon a table, he delivered some words which were quite lost, but his desperately energetic gestures were seen and were responded to with cries of "Down with popery!" "Death to the papists!"

The leaders pa.s.sed from place to place endeavoring to enforce order in this vast a.s.semblage of men animated by such contrasting sentiments, but scarcely had they turned their backs ere the confusion was renewed. At last they succeeded in forming four main bodies, which, taking different ways, crossed the Thames upon three bridges,--Westminster, Blackfriars, and London Bridge.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

At the head of this last column marched Reuben Marsham, whose fine, menacing face, flashing eyes, and floating yellow locks attracted universal attention, especially among the women. Men bore before him several banners upon which was emblazoned the legend, "No popery!"

Behind came a silent phalanx of fanatical sectarians, who ordered their marching-step to the slow measures of a religious chant. The crowd followed in clamorous disorder, struggling with a thousand emotions, like a tempestuous flood-tide sweeping between the walls of the narrow streets. From the windows and the thresholds of the shops a curious, amused, but perfectly peaceful horde of people watched the progress of the procession.

Here and there a philosopher or practical man would shrug his shoulders, murmuring, "Fanatics!" or, "Still another working day wasted!" But the majority sympathized with the object of the expedition, and saluted the pa.s.sage of the manifesto with answering cries of "No popery!"

No effort was made to interfere with the proceedings; not a red-coat nor an officer of police appeared. What could all the watchmen in London--those timid, innocent watchmen--have availed against such a mult.i.tude, even though they had been united in one solid troop? As for the soldiers, they were only called out as a last resort.

Reuben crossed Ludgate Hill without obstacle, went up Fleet Street, and, having pa.s.sed through old Temple Bar, entered the Strand. As a river receives its affluents, the column constantly grew larger through the human currents which joined it from the north and swept into it from the side-streets. In front of houses where well-known Catholics dwelt the procession would pause while, amidst groans and cries of execration from the crowd, men slashed the doors with a chalk-mark, which designated the places for approaching vengeance.

Having followed the Strand to its end, traversed Charing Cross, and pa.s.sed through Whitehall, the procession spread over Westminster Place, which, despite its somewhat confined dimensions and the buildings which obstructed it, nevertheless offered a favorable stamping-ground for such popular displays. The other bodies had already arrived at the rendezvous, and being united formed an immense, compact ma.s.s which nothing could resist. The crowd, proud of its power, gave voice to a long acclamation, above which isolated voices were heard, and which caused every window in Westminster to rattle.

The afternoon being far advanced, the hour of the meeting approached.

The members of the two a.s.semblies who had not taken time by the forelock and reached the House of Parliament were recognized as they courageously tried to penetrate the crowd, were marked out, abused, and beaten; but the popular hatred was particularly directed against the orators, ministers, and prelates, who were roundly accused, as they made their appearance, of betraying the cause of religion and of selling England to the Pope. With their carriage windows broken, their horses wildly snorting, their coachmen purple with rage or pallid with fear and deprived of their whips and reins, their terrified footmen clinging to the straps behind, the coaches swayed like ships in distress upon this furious human sea. They cracked and oscillated, until it was quite a wonder they were not overturned. The unfortunate occupants were torn from their seats and dragged over the pavements by the legs, arms, and even by their powdered cues. "Kill them! Drown them!" was the cry. Lord North, Lord Sandwich, the Archbishop of York, and several others thus saw imminent death staring them in the face, and escaped it only by their presence of mind or the energy of their friends. The crowd grew intoxicated with success, but more particularly with the gin and the beer which were dispensed in floods by the publicans of the neighborhood. Who could foretell to what point of excess the affair would be carried?

One after another the members of Parliament succeeded in joining their colleagues. With their frills and ruffles in streamers, soiled with mud and blood, they bore ample testimony of the violence to which they had been subjected. Each one regarded the event according to his particular humor; some laughed and swore, while others, grinding their teeth and pale with rage, silently wiped their faces where they had been wounded by the missiles, or their lacerated ears, which dripped blood upon their fine attire. All these men bore the sword; many had used it; the majority had risked their lives for a trifle in worldly duels, genuine tilting scrimmages with bare bodkins. They had no fear of a London rabble; the instinct of battle, the taste for combat, which is never quite dormant in the breast of an Englishman, awoke within them. One very aged member recounted how, sixty years before, the gentlemen of the Loyal Societies, whom a Jacobite mob of 1720 undertook to prevent from drinking King George's health, had charged upon the crowd in Cheapside and Fleet Street and had broken not a few worthless skulls. The recollection caused the old man's eyes to dance and excited the group of his more youthful hearers. "What say you if we make an onslaught?"

proposed one of them.

With brandished canes a dozen of the younger members fell suddenly upon the mult.i.tude and disengaged a friend from his perilous situation.

Several times was this manoeuvre repeated, with visible pleasure on the part of those who executed it. What sport it was to warm the rascals' backs! Directly their canes did not suffice, they drew their swords and let a little blood for the good of their patients. Each time that this occurred the populace fell back with a howl to give them place out of respect for their quality, but instantly closed in again more furious than ever. Soon with that destructive power of crowds it had broken down the gates which had been closed against them, and had invaded the courtyard; even now it had surged to the foot of the staircase. Separated from the insurgents by only a few steps, the deputies, crowded together in a solid ma.s.s, stamped with rage the vestibule leading to the House. From time to time a member of the government would come to take a bird's-eye view of the state of affairs, as a sailor watches the weather, and would then return to the Treasurer's office and report to his colleagues.

Nathaniel Wraxall, who had travelled everywhere, conspired with a queen, risked his head in various countries, and had been mixed up in all the brawls of his time, stood leaning upon the bal.u.s.trade, watching the spectacle with the calmly profound scrutiny of an entomologist at his microscope. He listened to the remarks, studied the faces, and took mental notes for the edification of posterity. From time to time he would draw forth his watch, a beautiful work of art purchased in Paris, which struck the hours and played the chimes of Dunkirk at noon and midnight, in order not to make any error in the chronology of the different phases of the day. If the precincts of Parliament, violated by Cromwell and his Round-heads, but una.s.sailed unto the present time by vulgar invasion, were fated to be profaned by the mob, it was important that Wraxall should be able to state historically at what precise moment the fact was accomplished.

At this moment Lord George Gordon, borne in triumph upon the shoulders of the people, and accompanied by a deafening tumult, mounted the staircase. He was received with a burst of violent exclamations. His colleagues apostrophized him, seized him by the arms, and called upon him to order back the crowd. Without paying the slightest heed, Lord George, with his eternal smile upon his face and as calm as possible, very gently remarked:--

"By your leave, gentlemen."

Thereupon they followed him into the hall. With its vaulted ceiling, its sombre woodwork richly carved, its Gothic ornamentation and fine stained gla.s.s, which represented the story of Adam and Eve, together with that of the patriarchs and the princ.i.p.al events in the life of Christ, the ancient chapel of St. Stephen still preserved its religious character.

Therein Parliament had sat for upwards of one hundred and twenty years.

To be sure, it had not echoed the voices of Sir Thomas More and Bacon, but it had vibrated to the accents of Shaftesbury, of Bolingbroke, and the elder Pitt, and it still preserved the echoes of those n.o.ble harangues which Voltaire declared worthy of the Roman senate. Just then the silence which reigned within contrasted strangely with the infernal tumult outside. At the usual hour prayer had been said, the speaker had taken his seat, and the mace, that "plaything" of which Cromwell spoke so disdainfully, had been laid upon the table, which indicated the official opening of the meeting. The ministers upon their long, high-backed bench at the right hand of the speaker, the leaders of the opposition upon the opposite bench, the sergeant-at-arms standing just beyond the bar, the clerk seated at the table,--every one was at his post, as tranquil as though nothing out of the common were taking place.

Lord George Gordon demanded and obtained permission to lay upon the table a pet.i.tion from the inhabitants of London who protested against the favors accorded to the Catholics.

"Two hundred thousand citizens have accompanied me in order to bear respectful witness," he said.

A bitter burst of sneering interrupted him, but Lord George repeated his phrase,--

"In order to bear respectful but firm witness of their immutable, unreserved devotion to the liberty acquired by their fathers at the cost of almost superhuman efforts."

Having p.r.o.nounced these words he retired, taking special care to salute the speaker at the exact spot where this formality is expected.

Again the hall was nearly deserted, the members crowding out into the vestibule. Gordon reappeared and the vociferations were renewed. The maledictions and menaces from above were answered by an enthusiastic clamor from below. The tumult a.s.sumed such proportions that a man speaking in his neighbor's ear and using the whole power of his lungs was unable to make himself understood. Believing that Gordon was about to join his friends, they barred his pa.s.sage.

"You are a hostage," they said, "and you shall not go out!"

Lord George made a sign that he had no idea of going; he only desired to speak a few encouraging words to the crowd. He descended a few steps and attempted to speak, but all that was heard were such fragments as: "Cause of G.o.d ... generous martyrs ... detestable idolatry ... rights of the people ... even unto death."

Finding that his voice failed to prevail against the noise, he returned to his colleagues; whereupon the mult.i.tude prepared to follow him. Then Col. Gordon, who was a relative of the young lord, but of quite a different calibre, drew his sword.

"You see!" he exclaimed. "Now I swear to you, sir, that if one of these wretches enters here you are a dead man! Before he crosses the threshold of Parliament I shall have pa.s.sed my sword through your body!"

The little sleek, colorless face preserved its slyly evil smile. He scarcely blinked his eyes before the tempest of furious insults which burst upon him.

"The villains!" cried Reuben. "They are going to murder him!"

Drawing a pistol from his mantle, he was about to rush forward, when the roll of drums was heard. It was Col. Woodford with a detachment of the Guards coming to the relief of Parliament.

The crowd recoiled step by step, without panic or disorder, but with a dull muttering of hate which presaged a lively resistance. As for the soldiers, they advanced with precaution, content to occupy the abandoned ground and to rescue the gates. From all sides a rain of invective poured upon them, and even stones thrown from a distance fell within the ranks.

"Are you going to fight for the Pope now?" cried one; while another added,--

"Is it with the blood of Englishmen that the cardinals' gowns are dyed?"

The soldiers appeared crestfallen, disgusted with the part they were obliged to play. These fine fair-weather soldiers, who are rarely sent to war, relished still less the repression of a riot; and somehow the rumor pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth that they were about to revolt, to refuse to obey their officers.

Within the Houses of Parliament a sudden change had taken place. If some of the members rejoiced at the deliverance, others murmured thereat. The presence of the soldiers in the precincts of the representatives of the nation seemed to them a violation of the rights of Parliament almost as grave as had been the vulgar invasion. One phrase, always magical under such circ.u.mstances, circulated among them,--"Breach of privilege." The danger being pa.s.sed, or at least avoided, the sentiment of justice towards and respect for the person of every citizen took its place.

After all, these men who protested against the resolutions of the legislators were but using their right, albeit in rather buoyant fashion. Were they going to ma.s.sacre them? Fists, canes and the flat of swords did not count, but gunshots were quite another matter! No, no: it was wiser to save the powder for the Frenchmen.

Night was closing in upon the field of battle. Their spirits were beginning to flag, for spirits cannot continue keyed up to a high pitch forever, and the most critical situations in great popular movements frequently languish for the reason that they have been too long sustained. The supper hour was keenly appreciated by every stomach, especially by those who had given themselves no time for dinner. Judge Addington profited by these circ.u.mstances to make an attempt at conciliation.

"Friends," he cried, "give me your word of honor that you will retire and I will dismiss the soldiers!"

A burst of applause followed the words. The Guards made ready to beat a retreat. A louder burst of applause. Considering that they had manifested their power and given their betters a lesson, the mob slowly evacuated the neighborhood of Parliament. By degrees the cries grew more indistinct, and at last Westminster Place was deserted. Both parties fancied themselves conquerors, and order appeared to be re-established.

This illusion was of short duration. A few minutes later prolonged cries, and flames which suddenly burst forth, reddening the heavens, announced the fact that the true excesses had but just begun. It soon became known that the populace had attacked the chapel of the Sardinian amba.s.sador in Duke Street, and still another of the Romish persuasion in Warwick Street. Benches, pictures, chairs, crucifixes, and confessionals,--all had been torn down and dragged out of doors, leaving merely the four walls standing, and a bonfire was made of these instruments of idolatry. Menaced upon every hand, the Catholics fled in hot haste, as if London in the midst of the eighteenth century was about to a.s.sist at a Protestant "Saint Bartholomew."

Thus alarm reigned in one quarter of the town, while joy presided in another. While the shrieks of death resounded in Duke Street, they were dancing at the Pantheon!

CHAPTER XII.

THE MASQUERADE AT THE PANTHEON.

The two women had pa.s.sed the entire day in arranging their dominos. Only an occasional echo of the popular disturbance had reached them; and when they learned that a great crowd had surrounded Parliament, Mrs. Marsham, who was not easily disquieted, remarked: "That's good! It is the pet.i.tion against the papists." And she dismissed the subject from her mind once and for all.

As for Esther, a great calm had replaced her agitation of the preceding evening. The gypsy's prediction, the Shakespearean oracle, together with the conspiracy of things in general so far as her vanity was concerned, failed to prevail against the sentiment hidden away in the depths of her heart. She had arrived at a determination and proposed to abide by it.

She would go to the ball, would have as pleasant a time as she could, but she would not permit herself to be led away. She would not notice any such preconcerted signal as "The moon is risen!" She was resolved to act thus--unless at the last minute, and actuated by some new caprice, she did exactly the contrary.

Esther was ready in good time, and Mrs. Marsham, although much slower, was not behind hand in joining her in the parlor.

About nine o'clock, shortly after nightfall (for these were the longest days of the year), the women were startled by a great hubbub at the door, which resembled the hooting of children. In her curiosity and impatience Esther hastened to open the door, and discovered to her amazement, in the midst of a dozen or more boys who were throwing mud at him, a strange creature dressed like a gentleman but wearing the enormous head of an a.s.s. The monster, who seemed either blind or intoxicated, bolted into the garden, slamming the gate behind him.