The mob had been divided from its first assemblage into four divisions;
the London, the Westminster, the Southwark, and the Scotch. Each of
these divisions being subdivided into various bodies, and these bodies
being drawn up in various forms and figures, the general arrangement
was, except to the few chiefs and leaders, as unintelligible as the
plan of a great battle to the meanest soldier in the field. It was not
without its method, however; for, in a very short space of time after
being put in motion, the crowd had resolved itself into three great
parties, and were prepared, as had been arranged, to cross the river
by different bridges, and make for the House of Commons in separate
detachments.
At the head of that division which had Westminster Bridge for its
approach to the scene of action, Lord George Gordon took his post; with
Gashford at his right hand, and sundry ruffians, of most unpromising
appearance, forming a kind of staff about him. The conduct of a second
party, whose route lay by Blackfriars, was entrusted to a committee of
management, including perhaps a dozen men: while the third, which was to
go by London Bridge, and through the main streets, in order that their
numbers and their serious intentions might be the better known and
appreciated by the citizens, were led by Simon Tappertit (assisted by
a few subalterns, selected from the Brotherhood of United Bulldogs),
Dennis the hangman, Hugh, and some others.
The word of command being given, each of these great bodies took the
road assigned to it, and departed on its way, in perfect order and
profound silence. That which went through the City greatly exceeded the
others in number, and was of such prodigious extent that when the
rear began to move, the front was nearly four miles in advance,
notwithstanding that the men marched three abreast and followed very
close upon each other.
At the head of this party, in the place where Hugh, in the madness
of his humour, had stationed him, and walking between that dangerous
companion and the hangman, went Barnaby; as many a man among the
thousands who looked on that day afterwards remembered well. Forgetful
of all other things in the ecstasy of the moment, his face flushed and
his eyes sparkling with delight, heedless of the weight of the great
banner he carried, and mindful only of its flashing in the sun and
rustling in the summer breeze, on he went, proud, happy, elated past
all telling:--the only light-hearted, undesigning creature, in the whole
assembly.
‘What do you think of this?’ asked Hugh, as they passed through the
crowded streets, and looked up at the windows which were thronged with
spectators. ‘They have all turned out to see our flags and streamers?
Eh, Barnaby? Why, Barnaby’s the greatest man of all the pack! His flag’s
the largest of the lot, the brightest too. There’s nothing in the show,
like Barnaby. All eyes are turned on him. Ha ha ha!’
‘Don’t make that din, brother,’ growled the hangman, glancing with
no very approving eyes at Barnaby as he spoke: ‘I hope he don’t think
there’s nothing to be done, but carrying that there piece of blue rag,
like a boy at a breaking up. You’re ready for action I hope, eh? You, I
mean,’ he added, nudging Barnaby roughly with his elbow. ‘What are you
staring at? Why don’t you speak?’
Barnaby had been gazing at his flag, and looked vacantly from his
questioner to Hugh.
‘He don’t understand your way,’ said the latter. ‘Here, I’ll explain it
to him. Barnaby old boy, attend to me.’
‘I’ll attend,’ said Barnaby, looking anxiously round; ‘but I wish I
could see her somewhere.’
‘See who?’ demanded Dennis in a gruff tone. ‘You an’t in love I hope,
brother? That an’t the sort of thing for us, you know. We mustn’t have
no love here.’
‘She would be proud indeed to see me now, eh Hugh?’ said Barnaby.
‘Wouldn’t it make her glad to see me at the head of this large show?
She’d cry for joy, I know she would. Where CAN she be? She never sees me
at my best, and what do I care to be gay and fine if SHE’S not by?’
‘Why, what palaver’s this?’ asked Mr Dennis with supreme disdain. ‘We
an’t got no sentimental members among us, I hope.’
‘Don’t be uneasy, brother,’ cried Hugh, ‘he’s only talking of his
mother.’
‘Of his what?’ said Mr Dennis with a strong oath.
‘His mother.’
‘And have I combined myself with this here section, and turned out on
this here memorable day, to hear men talk about their mothers!’ growled
Mr Dennis with extreme disgust. ‘The notion of a man’s sweetheart’s bad
enough, but a man’s mother!’--and here his disgust was so extreme that
he spat upon the ground, and could say no more.
‘Barnaby’s right,’ cried Hugh with a grin, ‘and I say it. Lookee, bold
lad. If she’s not here to see, it’s because I’ve provided for her, and
sent half-a-dozen gentlemen, every one of ‘em with a blue flag (but not
half as fine as yours), to take her, in state, to a grand house all
hung round with gold and silver banners, and everything else you please,
where she’ll wait till you come, and want for nothing.’
‘Ay!’ said Barnaby, his face beaming with delight: ‘have you indeed?
That’s a good hearing. That’s fine! Kind Hugh!’
‘But nothing to what will come, bless you,’ retorted Hugh, with a
wink at Dennis, who regarded his new companion in arms with great
astonishment.
‘No, indeed?’ cried Barnaby.
‘Nothing at all,’ said Hugh. ‘Money, cocked hats and feathers, red coats
and gold lace; all the fine things there are, ever were, or will be;
will belong to us if we are true to that noble gentleman--the best man
in the world--carry our flags for a few days, and keep ‘em safe. That’s
all we’ve got to do.’
‘Is that all?’ cried Barnaby with glistening eyes, as he clutched his
pole the tighter; ‘I warrant you I keep this one safe, then. You have
put it in good hands. You know me, Hugh. Nobody shall wrest this flag
away.’
‘Well said!’ cried Hugh. ‘Ha ha! Nobly said! That’s the old stout
Barnaby, that I have climbed and leaped with, many and many a day--I
knew I was not mistaken in Barnaby.--Don’t you see, man,’ he added in
a whisper, as he slipped to the other side of Dennis, ‘that the lad’s a
natural, and can be got to do anything, if you take him the right way?
Letting alone the fun he is, he’s worth a dozen men, in earnest, as
you’d find if you tried a fall with him. Leave him to me. You shall soon
see whether he’s of use or not.’
Mr Dennis received these explanatory remarks with many nods and winks,
and softened his behaviour towards Barnaby from that moment. Hugh,
laying his finger on his nose, stepped back into his former place, and
they proceeded in silence.
It was between two and three o’clock in the afternoon when the three
great parties met at Westminster, and, uniting into one huge mass,
raised a tremendous shout. This was not only done in token of their
presence, but as a signal to those on whom the task devolved, that it
was time to take possession of the lobbies of both Houses, and of
the various avenues of approach, and of the gallery stairs. To the
last-named place, Hugh and Dennis, still with their pupil between them,
rushed straightway; Barnaby having given his flag into the hands of one
of their own party, who kept them at the outer door. Their followers
pressing on behind, they were borne as on a great wave to the very doors
of the gallery, whence it was impossible to retreat, even if they had
been so inclined, by reason of the throng which choked up the passages.
It is a familiar expression in describing a great crowd, that a person
might have walked upon the people’s heads. In this case it was actually
done; for a boy who had by some means got among the concourse, and was
in imminent danger of suffocation, climbed to the shoulders of a man
beside him and walked upon the people’s hats and heads into the open
street; traversing in his passage the whole length of two staircases and
a long gallery. Nor was the swarm without less dense; for a basket
which had been tossed into the crowd, was jerked from head to head,
and shoulder to shoulder, and went spinning and whirling on above them,
until it was lost to view, without ever once falling in among them or
coming near the ground.
Through this vast throng, sprinkled doubtless here and there with honest
zealots, but composed for the most part of the very scum and refuse
of London, whose growth was fostered by bad criminal laws, bad prison
regulations, and the worst conceivable police, such of the members of
both Houses of Parliament as had not taken the precaution to be already
at their posts, were compelled to fight and force their way. Their
carriages were stopped and broken; the wheels wrenched off; the glasses
shivered to atoms; the panels beaten in; drivers, footmen, and masters,
pulled from their seats and rolled in the mud. Lords, commoners, and
reverend bishops, with little distinction of person or party, were
kicked and pinched and hustled; passed from hand to hand through various
stages of ill-usage; and sent to their fellow-senators at last with
their clothes hanging in ribands about them, their bagwigs torn off,
themselves speechless and breathless, and their persons covered with the
powder which had been cuffed and beaten out of their hair. One lord was
so long in the hands of the populace, that the Peers as a body resolved
to sally forth and rescue him, and were in the act of doing so, when he
happily appeared among them covered with dirt and bruises, and hardly to
be recognised by those who knew him best. The noise and uproar were on
the increase every moment. The air was filled with execrations, hoots,
and howlings. The mob raged and roared, like a mad monster as it was,
unceasingly, and each new outrage served to swell its fury.
Within doors, matters were even yet more threatening. Lord
George--preceded by a man who carried the immense petition on a porter’s
knot through the lobby to the door of the House of Commons, where it
was received by two officers of the house who rolled it up to the table
ready for presentation--had taken his seat at an early hour, before the
Speaker went to prayers. His followers pouring in at the same time, the
lobby and all the avenues were immediately filled, as we have seen. Thus
the members were not only attacked in their passage through the streets,
but were set upon within the very walls of Parliament; while the tumult,
both within and without, was so great, that those who attempted to speak
could scarcely hear their own voices: far less, consult upon the course
it would be wise to take in such extremity, or animate each other to
dignified and firm resistance. So sure as any member, just arrived, with
dress disordered and dishevelled hair, came struggling through the crowd
in the lobby, it yelled and screamed in triumph; and when the door
of the House, partially and cautiously opened by those within for his
admission, gave them a momentary glimpse of the interior, they grew
more wild and savage, like beasts at the sight of prey, and made a rush
against the portal which strained its locks and bolts in their staples,
and shook the very beams.
The strangers’ gallery, which was immediately above the door of the
House, had been ordered to be closed on the first rumour of disturbance,
and was empty; save that now and then Lord George took his seat there,
for the convenience of coming to the head of the stairs which led to
it, and repeating to the people what had passed within. It was on
these stairs that Barnaby, Hugh, and Dennis were posted. There were two
flights, short, steep, and narrow, running parallel to each other,
and leading to two little doors communicating with a low passage which
opened on the gallery. Between them was a kind of well, or unglazed
skylight, for the admission of light and air into the lobby, which might
be some eighteen or twenty feet below.
Upon one of these little staircases--not that at the head of which Lord
George appeared from time to time, but the other--Gashford stood with
his elbow on the bannister, and his cheek resting on his hand, with his
usual crafty aspect. Whenever he varied this attitude in the slightest
degree--so much as by the gentlest motion of his arm--the uproar was
certain to increase, not merely there, but in the lobby below; from
which place no doubt, some man who acted as fugleman to the rest, was
constantly looking up and watching him.
‘Order!’ cried Hugh, in a voice which made itself heard even above the
roar and tumult, as Lord George appeared at the top of the staircase.
‘News! News from my lord!’
The noise continued, notwithstanding his appearance, until Gashford
looked round. There was silence immediately--even among the people in
the passages without, and on the other staircases, who could neither
see nor hear, but to whom, notwithstanding, the signal was conveyed with
marvellous rapidity.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Lord George, who was very pale and agitated, ‘we must
be firm. They talk of delays, but we must have no delays. They talk of
taking your petition into consideration next Tuesday, but we must have
it considered now. Present appearances look bad for our success, but we
must succeed and will!’
‘We must succeed and will!’ echoed the crowd. And so among their shouts
and cheers and other cries, he bowed to them and retired, and presently
came back again. There was another gesture from Gashford, and a dead
silence directly.
‘I am afraid,’ he said, this time, ‘that we have little reason,
gentlemen, to hope for any redress from the proceedings of Parliament.
But we must redress our own grievances, we must meet again, we must put
our trust in Providence, and it will bless our endeavours.’
This speech being a little more temperate than the last, was not so
favourably received. When the noise and exasperation were at their
height, he came back once more, and told them that the alarm had gone
forth for many miles round; that when the King heard of their assembling
together in that great body, he had no doubt, His Majesty would send
down private orders to have their wishes complied with; and--with the
manner of his speech as childish, irresolute, and uncertain as his
matter--was proceeding in this strain, when two gentlemen suddenly
appeared at the door where he stood, and pressing past him and coming a
step or two lower down upon the stairs, confronted the people.
The boldness of this action quite took them by surprise. They were
not the less disconcerted, when one of the gentlemen, turning to Lord
George, spoke thus--in a loud voice that they might hear him well, but
quite coolly and collectedly:
‘You may tell these people, if you please, my lord, that I am General
Conway of whom they have heard; and that I oppose this petition, and all
their proceedings, and yours. I am a soldier, you may tell them, and I
will protect the freedom of this place with my sword. You see, my lord,
that the members of this House are all in arms to-day; you know that the
entrance to it is a narrow one; you cannot be ignorant that there are
men within these walls who are determined to defend that pass to the
last, and before whom many lives must fall if your adherents persevere.
Have a care what you do.’
‘And my Lord George,’ said the other gentleman, addressing him in like
manner, ‘I desire them to hear this, from me--Colonel Gordon--your
near relation. If a man among this crowd, whose uproar strikes us deaf,
crosses the threshold of the House of Commons, I swear to run my sword
that moment--not into his, but into your body!’
With that, they stepped back again, keeping their faces towards the
crowd; took each an arm of the misguided nobleman; drew him into the
passage, and shut the door; which they directly locked and fastened on
the inside.
This was so quickly done, and the demeanour of both gentlemen--who
were not young men either--was so gallant and resolute, that the crowd
faltered and stared at each other with irresolute and timid looks. Many
tried to turn towards the door; some of the faintest-hearted cried they
had best go back, and called to those behind to give way; and the panic
and confusion were increasing rapidly, when Gashford whispered Hugh.
‘What now!’ Hugh roared aloud, turning towards them. ‘Why go back? Where
can you do better than here, boys! One good rush against these doors and
one below at the same time, will do the business. Rush on, then! As to
the door below, let those stand back who are afraid. Let those who are
not afraid, try who shall be the first to pass it. Here goes! Look out
down there!’
Without the delay of an instant, he threw himself headlong over the
bannisters into the lobby below. He had hardly touched the ground when
Barnaby was at his side. The chaplain’s assistant, and some members who
were imploring the people to retire, immediately withdrew; and then,
with a great shout, both crowds threw themselves against the doors
pell-mell, and besieged the House in earnest.
At that moment, when a second onset must have brought them into
collision with those who stood on the defensive within, in which case
great loss of life and bloodshed would inevitably have ensued,--the
hindmost portion of the crowd gave way, and the rumour spread from mouth
to mouth that a messenger had been despatched by water for the military,
who were forming in the street. Fearful of sustaining a charge in the
narrow passages in which they were so closely wedged together, the
throng poured out as impetuously as they had flocked in. As the whole
stream turned at once, Barnaby and Hugh went with it: and so, fighting
and struggling and trampling on fallen men and being trampled on in turn
themselves, they and the whole mass floated by degrees into the open
street, where a large detachment of the Guards, both horse and foot,
came hurrying up; clearing the ground before them so rapidly that the
people seemed to melt away as they advanced.
The word of command to halt being given, the soldiers formed across the
street; the rioters, breathless and exhausted with their late exertions,
formed likewise, though in a very irregular and disorderly manner. The
commanding officer rode hastily into the open space between the two
bodies, accompanied by a magistrate and an officer of the House of
Commons, for whose accommodation a couple of troopers had hastily
dismounted. The Riot Act was read, but not a man stirred.
In the first rank of the insurgents, Barnaby and Hugh stood side by
side. Somebody had thrust into Barnaby’s hands when he came out into the
street, his precious flag; which, being now rolled up and tied round
the pole, looked like a giant quarter-staff as he grasped it firmly and
stood upon his guard. If ever man believed with his whole heart and soul
that he was engaged in a just cause, and that he was bound to stand by
his leader to the last, poor Barnaby believed it of himself and Lord
George Gordon.
After an ineffectual attempt to make himself heard, the magistrate gave
the word and the Horse Guards came riding in among the crowd. But, even
then, he galloped here and there, exhorting the people to disperse; and,
although heavy stones were thrown at the men, and some were desperately
cut and bruised, they had no orders but to make prisoners of such of the
rioters as were the most active, and to drive the people back with the
flat of their sabres. As the horses came in among them, the throng gave
way at many points, and the Guards, following up their advantage, were
rapidly clearing the ground, when two or three of the foremost, who were
in a manner cut off from the rest by the people closing round them, made
straight towards Barnaby and Hugh, who had no doubt been pointed out as
the two men who dropped into the lobby: laying about them now with some
effect, and inflicting on the more turbulent of their opponents, a few
slight flesh wounds, under the influence of which a man dropped,
here and there, into the arms of his fellows, amid much groaning and
confusion.
At the sight of gashed and bloody faces, seen for a moment in the crowd,
then hidden by the press around them, Barnaby turned pale and sick. But
he stood his ground, and grasping his pole more firmly yet, kept his
eye fixed upon the nearest soldier--nodding his head meanwhile, as Hugh,
with a scowling visage, whispered in his ear.
The soldier came spurring on, making his horse rear as the people
pressed about him, cutting at the hands of those who would have grasped
his rein and forced his charger back, and waving to his comrades to
follow--and still Barnaby, without retreating an inch, waited for his
coming. Some called to him to fly, and some were in the very act of
closing round him, to prevent his being taken, when the pole swept into
the air above the people’s heads, and the man’s saddle was empty in an
instant.
Then, he and Hugh turned and fled, the crowd opening to let them pass,
and closing up again so quickly that there was no clue to the course
they had taken. Panting for breath, hot, dusty, and exhausted with
fatigue, they reached the riverside in safety, and getting into a boat
with all despatch were soon out of any immediate danger.
As they glided down the river, they plainly heard the people cheering;
and supposing they might have forced the soldiers to retreat, lay upon
their oars for a few minutes, uncertain whether to return or not. But
the crowd passing along Westminster Bridge, soon assured them that the
populace were dispersing; and Hugh rightly guessed from this, that
they had cheered the magistrate for offering to dismiss the military on
condition of their immediate departure to their several homes, and that
he and Barnaby were better where they were. He advised, therefore, that
they should proceed to Blackfriars, and, going ashore at the bridge,
make the best of their way to The Boot; where there was not only good
entertainment and safe lodging, but where they would certainly be joined
by many of their late companions. Barnaby assenting, they decided on
this course of action, and pulled for Blackfriars accordingly.
They landed at a critical time, and fortunately for themselves at the
right moment. For, coming into Fleet Street, they found it in an unusual
stir; and inquiring the cause, were told that a body of Horse Guards had
just galloped past, and that they were escorting some rioters whom they
had made prisoners, to Newgate for safety. Not at all ill-pleased to
have so narrowly escaped the cavalcade, they lost no more time in asking
questions, but hurried to The Boot with as much speed as Hugh considered
it prudent to make, without appearing singular or attracting an
inconvenient share of public notice.