In 1780 the famous Lord George Gordon, or "No Popery" Riots took place—those Riots which were so intensely Protestant, that (according to the Contemporary Gentleman's Magazine) "The very Jews in Houndsditch and Duke's Place were so intimidated, that they followed the general example, and unintentionally gave an air of ridicule to what they understood in a very serious light, by writing on their Shutters, "This House is a true Protestant."
These Riots are very realistically brought before us in Charles Dickens' "Barnaby Rudge," but then, although the account is fairly historically faithful, yet the weaving of his tale necessarily interfered with strict historical details; which, by the way, are extremely meagre as to the burning of the Fleet prison. The fact was, that, for the few days the riot existed, the outrages were so numerous, and the Newspapers of such small dimensions, that they could only be summarized, and the burning of Newgate eclipsed that of the Fleet. But, on the Wednesday, June 7, 1780, the Annual Register, p. 261 (which certainly has the best description I have been able to see) absolutely breaks down, saying:—
"It is impossible to give any adequate description of the events of Wednesday. Notice was sent round to the public prisons of the King's Bench, Fleet, &c., by the mob, at what time they would come and burn them down. The same kind of infernal humanity was exercised towards Mr. Langdale, a distiller in Holborn, whose loss is said to amount to £100,000, and several other Romish individuals. In the afternoon all the shops were shut, and bits of blue silk, by way of flags, hung out at most houses, with the words "No Popery" chalked on the doors and window shutters, by way of deprecating the fury of the insurgents, from which no person thought himself secure.
"As soon as the day was drawing towards a Close, one of the most dreadful spectacles this country ever beheld was exhibited. Let those, who were not spectators of it, judge what the inhabitants felt when they beheld at the same instant the flames ascending and rolling in clouds from the King's Bench and Fleet Prisons, from New Bridewell, from the toll gates on Blackfriars Bridge, from houses in every quarter of the town, and particularly from the bottom and middle of Holborn, where the Conflagration was horrible beyond description."
The burning of the Fleet was done calmly and deliberately, as is well told in "A Narrative of the Proceedings of Lord Geo. Gordon," &c., 1780. "About one o'clock this morning (Tuesday, June 6), the Mob went to the Fleet Prison, and demanded the gates to be opened, which the Keepers were obliged to do, or they would have set fire to it. They were then proceeding to demolish the prison, but the prisoners expostulating with them, and begging that they would give them time to remove their goods, they readily condescended, and gave them a day for that purpose, in consequence of which, the prisoners were removing all this day out of that place. Some of the prisoners were in for life." And in the evening of the next day, they fulfilled their threat, and burnt it. This was the second time it had been burnt down, for the great fire of 1666 had previously demolished it.
RACKETS IN THE FLEET PRISON, 1760.
(Published by Bowles and Carver, 69, St. Paul's Churchyard.)
It was rebuilt, and remained the same, with some few alterations and additions until its final destruction. We get a good view of "the Bare" or racket ground in 1808, an outline of which I have taken from Pugin and Rowlandson's beautiful "Microcosm of London," 1808, [150] according to which book, "The Fleet Prison, it is believed, after the fire of London in 1666, was removed to that site of ground upon which the almshouses through Vauxhall turnpike, on the Wandsworth road, now stand, until the old prison was rebuilt, Sir Jeremy Whichcott, then Warden, having his family seat there, which he converted into a prison; for which patriotic act, and rebuilding the old one at his own expence, he and his heirs were wardens as long as they lived. The Office of Warden of the Fleet was formerly of such consequence, that a brother of one of the Edwards is said to have been in the list of Wardens."
In this illustration we find the prisoners by no means moody, but playing at rackets and skittles. The Racket ground was under the superintendence of a Racket Master, who was elected by the Collegians, annually at Christmas. This post was eagerly sought after, as it was one to which some pecuniary profit was attached, a small fee being demanded from each person, the Racket Master having to find bats and balls. I have before me three printed handbills of aspirants for the post in 1841. One bases his claim on the fact that he is already Racket Master, and says, "I feel the situation is one that requires attention and unceasing exertion, not so much from the individual position, as from the circumstance that the amusement, and (what is more vitally important) the health of my fellow inmates is in some measure placed in the hands of the person appointed." Another candidate pleads as a qualification, that he has served as Watchman for Seven years, and at last election for Racket Master, he only lost the appointment by five votes. And the third publishes the caution "Collegians, Remember! All Promises that have been (sic) before the Vacancy, are Null and Void!!!" This gentleman was determined to secure, if possible, some of the good things going about, for, at this very same Annual Election, he issues another circular, "Having had many years experience in the Tavern Department and Eating House Business, I beg leave to offer myself for the Situation in the Public Kitchen, now about to become vacant." He, too, had an opponent, who had been engaged for nine years as a baker, and was, by profession, a Cook. The Office of Skittle Master was also contested in that year; the holder of the place being opposed by one whose claim to the position seems to be that he had a wife and one child.
