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 glass, which represented the story of Adam and Eve, together with that of the patriarchs and the principal 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 noble 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 petition 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 pronounced 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 assumed 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 passage.
"You are a hostage," they said, "and you shall not go out!"