One man's terrorist by Nigel Roth

Mis à jour : mars 2

On Boxing Day, two hundred and seventy-eight years ago, six men were born at precisely the same moment.

One was a Scottish Lord, another a rebellious British Naval sailor, a third was an argumentative contrarian parliamentarian, another the instigator of the deadly Gordon Riots, a fifth was the weirdest religious convert in England, and the other was Newgate Prison’s most demanding inmate.

And they all had the same name.

Not easy to cram all of those lives into forty-two years, but Lord Geroge Gordon managed it with aplomb.

His first persona he really couldn’t help. His father and mother - Cosmo and Cathy - sound like they ran a deli in Secaucus, but were in fact Scottish Royalty. He went to Eton, of course, and was then fast-tracked into the Royal Navy and to the rank of Lieutenant.

In the Navy, Gordon was expected to join ranks with the officers, raise his nose a little further into the air to avoid the smell of the deckhands, and drink cognac from flat-bottomed decanters. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Something in him, however much he may have tried, made him break ranks, turn his attention to bettering the lives of those in his care, and swig rum instead.

He instantly became the sailors’ champion, but was inevitably refused any kind of promotion and definitely not the command of his own vessel by the Admiralty, who confused his compassion for weakness.

So off he went to Parliament, to become a member of the 1774 house representing Ludgershall. This third incarnation would be an easier ride, one might have thought, except that Gordon didn’t see it that way. All his political viewpoints were at odds with both sides of the house; he just didn’t agree with either party. Astonishing as it may seem, Gordon saw a third option; a middle-ground, an alternative path. Not right, not left, but somewhere in the middle. It's a revolutionary thought, isn’t it?

Because he didn’t see the world as the staid career politicians did, his political life came to an end as both sides accused him of being a contrarian. And of course he was instantly branded a political outcast and shunned.

Cast aside as a politician, Gordon found a cause with which to prove he could both lead and accomplish great things. In 1779, he founded the Protestant Association which marched to the Houses of Parliament to present a petition against Catholic rights; he was born and lived in a Protestant country, and felt that Catholicism didn’t have a place in England in the same way.

He didn’t march alone of course, he took around fifty thousand protesters with him. Because, while we may see this cause as somewhat misguided and firmly against our belief in the rights of all humans, he was really just trying to prove that he could achieve something.

The march was peaceful at first, but agitators and infiltrators (which many said were Government agents acting to create a need for violent suppression, if you can believe such a thing could ever happen …) turned the march into chaos. The horde spent the next few days and nights burning churches and pillaging homes, and even attacked the Bank of England. And that gave authorities the right to shoot protesters (where have we heard that recently …) and they did. At least four hundred and fifty, maybe as many as seven hundred, marchers were shot dead in the streets where they stood.

Gordon’s organizational skills and inspiring leadership had made him the peoples’ hero, but those same qualities also made him the Government’s scourge. To the Tower, they cried, and off he went.

Although he was accommodated well in the Tower of London, he was swiftly freed and bolted to Amsterdam for a bit of a rest and a cycle around the Dam. Unfortunately, while there he seems to have criticised that thoughtless lush, Marie Antoinette, who had come to symbolize all that was wrong with the aristocracy, fueling the French Revolution. I’m not sure exactly what he said to defame her, but he was thrown out of the country and had to traipse back to England with his duty free.

On his return, and maybe in response to being ex-communicate