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BURNING OF NEWGATE IN 1780.

(From No. 37 of Allen's History of London.)

In the year 1778, it having become the opinion of liberal minded men, that the laws against papists were much too rigorous to be enforced in an enlightened age, an act of parliament had been passed, for 'relieving his majesty's subjects, professing the Romish religion, from certain penalties and disabilities imposed upon them in the eleventh and twelfth years of the reign of king William the Third.' This act, at the time, did not appear to excite any great alarm among persons of any class; nor would it, perhaps. have ever given birth to such extraordinary results, had not the Catholics acted very indiscreetly, in taking more liberties in the public exercise of their re

ligion than what they had been previ ously accustomed to, and in proceeding to the yet greater length of proposing to open public schools for the education of youth in the Romish faith.

The sensation produced by these occurrences, led many of the lower class of rigid protestants to express great apprehensions of the increase of popery, and to exclaim against the late act, by which they thought it was countenanced and supported. These persons, who for the most part were methodists and bigotted calvinists, formed themselves into a body in London, under the title of the Protestant Association,' and chose for their president lord Geo. Gordon, younger brother to the

duke of Gordon, and at that time member of parliament for Ludgershall. This young man had been educated in the rigid doctrines of Presbyterianism; and from imbibing a sort of hereditary repulsion to popery, was a fit head for such a community. Under his direction a petition was framed for a repeal of the obnoxious act, and so much industry was employed to procure signatures, that the names of upwards of 120,000 persons were affixed to it; among them, however, were those of many women and children.

The petition being thus prepared, a general meeting of the Association was held on the evening of May 29th, 1780, at Coachmakers' Hall, Noble-street; when Lord George, after stating his opinion, that the indulgence given to popery by the repeal of the act of William the Third, was inconsistent with the principles of the revolution, dangerous to the Hanoverian succession, and destructive to the civil and religious liberties of the country;' and stated his conviction, that 'the only way to stop it was by going in a firm, manly, and resolute manner to the house of commons, and shewing their representatives that they were determined to preserve their religious freedom with their fives; that,

for his

part, he would run all hazards with the people; and if the people were too lukewarm to run all hazards with him, when their conscience and their country called them forth, they may get another president; for he would tell them candidly, that he was not a lukewarm man himself, and that if they meant to spend their time in mock debate and idle opposition, they might get another leader.' This speech was received

with the loudest applause, and his fordship then moved the following resolution-That the whole body of the Protestant Association do attend in St. George's Fields on Friday next, at ten of the clock in the morning, to accompany his lordship to the House of Commons, on the delivery of the Protestant petition. This was carried unanimously. His lordship then

said, that if less than

twenty thousand of his fellow-citizens attended him on that day, he would not present their petition;' and for the better observance of order, he moved that they should arrange themselves into four divisions; the Protestants of the city of London on the right, those of the city of Westminster on the left, the borough of Southwark third, and the people of Scotland resident in London and its environs to form the last division; and, that they might know their friends from their enemies,' he added, that ' every real Protestant and friend of the petition should come with a blue cockade in his hat.'

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Accordingly, on Friday, June the 2nd, the day appointed, about ten o'clock in the morning, a vast concourse of people froni all parts of the city and suburbs assembled in St. George's Fields, near the Obelisk, where they awaited the arrival of their president, who came about eleven; and having, in a short speech, strongly recommended the necessity of a peaceable deportment, he marshalled them into ranks, and gave directions for the conduct of the different divisions. His lordship then left them, proceeding in his carriage to the House of Commons over Westminster-bridge; and the committee of the association, with many other members,

went the same way: but the main body, amounting to, at least, 50,000, took their route over London-bridge, marching in tolerable order, six or eight in a rank, through Cornhill, Fleetstreet, and the Strand. Each division was preceded by its respective banner, having the words

No Popery' written on it, with other sentiments expressive of the business of the day; the petition itself, with the skins of parchment containing its numerous signatures, and which had been tacked together by a tailor in St. George's Fields, was carried at the head of the procession, At Charing-cross the multitude was increased by additional numbers on foot, on horseback, and in carriages; so that, by the time the different parties had met together, all the avenues to both houses of parliament were entirely filled with the crowd.

Till this period, every thing had been conducted with proper decorum; but a most lamentable change took place, as soon as the members of parliament began to assemble. Among such an immense Concourse of people, it could not be imagined that every one would be equally peaceable; yet the scenes of confusion and riot which ensued, went far beyond all possible calculation, and most forcibly impressed the reflecting mind with the never-tobe-forgotten lesson of the immipent danger that attends the expression of the vox populi from a congregated multitude. Protestant Association appeared to recede from its avowed purpose, and to assume all the properties of a seditious mob, Both peers and commons were insulted in their progress to the house, and it was with great difficulty

The

that some of them escaped with their lives.

The Archbishop of York, was the first attacked; the bishop of Litchfield had his gown torn; the wheels were taken off the bishop of Lincoln's carriage, and his lordship narrowly escaped with life; the lord president of the council (Lord. Bathurst) was treated very roughly; the windows and pannels of lord Mansfield's coach were broken to pieces; the duke of Northumherland's pocket was picked of his watch; the lords Townshend and Hillsborough came together, and were grossly insulted; lord Stormont's coach was broken to pieces, and himself in the hands of the mob for nearly half an hour; lords Ashburnham and Boston were treated with the utmost indignity, particularly the latter, who was so long in their power, that it was proposed to the house to go in a body, and endeavour, by their presence, to extricate him; but in the interim, his lordship escaped without any material hurt. Many others of the peers were personally ill-treated, and Wellbore Ellis, esq. was obliged to take refuge in the Guildhall of Westminster, whither he was pursued, the windows broken, the doors forced, and justice Addington, with all the constables, expelled. Mr. Ellis escaped with the greatest hazard,

Further outrage to the parliament itself was prevented by the arrival of the guards; and the house of commons, on the motion of lord George, seconded by Mr. Alderman Bull, one of the city representatives, agreed to the bringing up of the petition, and that it should be debated on the Tuesday following. These deci sions were not satisfactory to the

mob; yet, as the presence of the military restrained them from violence on the spot, they separated into parties, and commenced the work of destruction by partly demolishing the Romish chapels in Duke Street, Lincoln's-inn-fields, and Warwickstreet, Golden-square; and all the furniture, ornaments, and altars of both chapels were committed to the Bames. This was effected before the guards could arrive, when thirteen of the rioters were taken up. No further outrage of importance was committed that night.

On the next day (Saturday), the tumult appeared to have subsided, and the rage of bigotry and lawless violence was thought to be allayed; but this expectation proved eminently fallacious, On Sunday afternoon, a mob of many thousands assembled in Moorfields; and with the cry of No Papists! 'Root out Popery!' &c.they attacked the Popish chapel in Hopemaker's-alley; and having demolished the inside, they carried the altars, pulpits, pictures, seats, &c. into the street, and committed them to the flames. More mischief was prevented by the arrival of a party of the guards, when the rioters immediately began to disperse. Early on the following morning, however, they assembled again on the same spot, and demolished the school, and three dwelling houses belonging to the priests in Ropemakers'-alley, together with a valuable library. They now divided into parties; and threatening destruction to all who should oppose them, they proceeded to different quarters of the town. One party went to Virginia-street Wapping, and another to Nightingale-lanc, East Smithfield,

where they severally destroyedthe Catholic chapels, and com> mitted many other outrages. To be continued.

Sketches of Character. For the Casket.

No. XV.---THE SAILOR.
'Here I am, poor Jack,
Just come home from sea,
With shiners in my sack,
Pray what d'ye think of me?'

WHAT do we think of you?why that you're a careless, rattlebrained, inconsiderate, profligate, good-natured being; fonder of grog than of salt water, and of your own Polly than the one you sail in. We could wish that you possessed a little more thought, and that you disposed of your 'pay' and 'prize money' in a somewhat more reasonable man

ner.

If you would keep nearer the 'lee-shore' of prudence, and not be so easily induced to go on 't'other tack,' we should (to tell you the truth) think a little better of you than we do at present,

A sailor, when on shore, is one of the happiest fellows in existence he fares sumptuously, though nothing is more grateful to his palate than salt beef or pork. He rides inside a stage coach, although, if no one could see him, he would much rather sit outside, or even trudge along on foot. He visits exhibitions, though he has no taste to enjoy what he sees; and all this, that he may not appear stingy,' and that he may have opportunities of sporting' his 'shiners,' as if he considered them as mere trash. No sooner does he set his foot on terra firma, than he seeks out

shops where he may completely re-clothe himself: he purchases. a dashing hat, dancing-pumps, and a good looking, though not always good going watch. He struts about in spruce looking 'nankeens,' while his hands are entombed in the pockets of his never deserted round jacket. He would no sooner change this part of his dress for a coat, than a dancing-master would his fiddlestiek for a sword, or a Waterlooman his medal for a five-shilling piece; it is his constant companion, whether at sea or on shore, whether he is put to the push' for money, or in possession of more than he knows what to do with. As soon as he is rigged out to his liking, he weighs anchor,' and proceeds on cruise' of pleasure; he soon meets one of his favorite Wapping lasses, and in order that he may have a consort' with him on his expedition, he speedily equips her for sailing,' and 'takes her in tow' as a tidy frigate.' (Be ready all ye Jew-pedlars, bargain sellers, and vagrant impostors, Jack's pockets are well lined, and your 'gold brooches,' ' silk hand, kerchiefs,' and tales of distress, will meet with a ready market.) He soon 'falls in' with several relations and friends, among whom, he distributes his last collection of foreign curiosities,' and to one of whom he delivers (according to promise) a monkey, whom he has instructed in various erudite grimaces, and sundry mischievous tricks, His cash soon begins to run short, but this does not prevent him from squandering it away in a still more profligate manner; he gives a shil ling to every beggar that prays a half-penny, and seems to endea

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vour, by every means in his power, to empty his already lightened purse; his watch and every other unnecessary purchase he had made, are parted with, some hundreds per cent. below prime cost; the money thus procured is made away with in a similar round of extravagance; and at length, pennyless and friendless, (for upon the first leakage' his accompanying frigate sheers off') he returns to his old profession, at which he contentedly remains till the rhino' has accumulated, and he is at liberty to go ashore,' that he may spend it as foolishly as heretofore, and again return, impoverished and forsaken, to his constant refuge the ship.' The sailor' studies none of the various schemes,' which land lubbers' bother their heads with;' he cares nothing for the learning of a collegian, the reasoning of the logician, or the pur❤ suits of a man of science: absorbed in the present, he thinks but seldom upon the future, and when he does, it is only that he may dismiss it from his thoughts, and again resume his carelessness and mirth. It may be said, that he who enjoys most of life is the wisest man, and that to this character, therefore, the sailor' is entitled; but until it can be shown, that man's reason was given to him for no higher purposes than to assist him in senseless mirth and boisterous laughter, and that his intellects were never intended for far more noble pursuits; till this can be shewn, and shewn indisputably, the sailor's mode of murdering away his time, can neither be entitled to the praise of the philosopher, nor deserve the approbation of the good.

R. J.

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