Central Philadelphia was peopled mainly by native American Protestants, its industrial suburbs by many immigrant Catholic workers. In the 1820’s and ’30’s the two groups had often clashed in election riots, fights between volunteer fire companies, and ethnic and religious quarrels. In the early 1840’s the use of the Protestant Bible in the public schools became a source of contention. When the Catholic Bishop of Philadelphia persuaded the school authorities to allow the Catholic Bible as well, many Protestants were incensed.
In 1844 in the suburb of Kensington, a group of American Protestants announced that they would hold a meeting in the Third Ward, an Irish stronghold. On May 3 and again on May 6 the Irish repelled their unwanted visitors. After the second incident the city was in an uproar. Street speakers denounced Catholics; one nativist journal announced: “The bloody hand of the Pope has stretched itself forth to our destruction,” and urged Protestants to arm themselves. On May 7, a Protestant mob shrieking: “Kill them. Kill them. Blood for Blood!” marched to the Irish section, burned down over thirty homes and tenements, and two churches. Fourteen or more persons were killed or injured.
On July 5, rumors spread that weapons had been collected in the Church of St. Philip de Neri in Southwark, another suburb, and a mob formed outside. A committee discovered guns and ammunition in the church, and tried to keep the discovery a secret, but the news spread. For a time the mob was prevented from assaulting the church by the state militia. Then on July 7 the crowd heard that armed Irish volunteers—the Hibernia Greens—were inside the church, and demanded their removal. As the volunteers left, they were taunted by the mob and fired back. Both sides later returned to the church with augmented forces, the Irish volunteers and the rioters both armed with cannon. The mob shot their cannon, the Irish replied with theirs. In this riot, at least thirteen persons were killed and more than fifty wounded. Two grand juries placed all the blame on the Irish, but many people throughout the nation condemned the nativists for their violence and their destruction of property.
The following account was written by a Catholic who witnessed the events as a young boy and wrote about them thirty years later. It was published as “The Anti-Catholic Riots in Philadelphia in 1844,” in American Catholic Historical Researches, XIII (April 1896), 60–4. See also Ray A. Billington: The Protestant Crusade, 1800–1860 (1938); and Elizabeth M. Geffen: “Violence in Philadelphia in the 1840’s & 50’s,” Pennsylvania History, XXXVI (October 1969).
Instead of longing for the glorious 4th of July we dreaded its approach—many feared a renewal of the fearful scenes of violence May had brought us. What, then, was our surprise when early on the morrow we learned that the pastor of the adjoining parish of St. Philip’s, whose church was situated in the most bigoted part of Southwark, surrounded with the most ignorant and reckless sort of Nativists, had, the day before, openly, in broad daylight, had arms and ammunition carried into the church, and that a company of volunteers, called the “Hibernia Greens,” were in possession of the sacred edifice. It was a day of fearful, yea, truly awful, anxiety. During the evening, rumor, busy jade, caused many a heart to beat in dread, and many a head to bow in prayer.
On the Festival of the Most Precious Blood, my sisters and I offered our holy communion that God might protect our churches and our homes. During this season of terror our first thoughts were always not for ourselves or homes but for our churches. Judging of others by ourselves, there were few Catholics who would not have gratefully looked on the ashes of their homes, if the House of God were only spared. After the eight and half o’clock Mass we walked down to the fortified temple. The excited crowd of the previous night was all dispersed, and, except by ourselves, and a few other of the curious descendants of an unhappily curious mother, the street was deserted. Had the authorities of the municipality of Southwark, whose office was “round the corner,” posted a dozen constables in the neighborhood, no mob had assembled on the 6th day of July 1844.
Our apprehensions having been allayed by the peaceful surroundings of the church, we took our usual seats in St. Mary’s for the late Mass. Our pew, being on the South side of the altar, commanded a view of the greater part of the congregation. Every thing proceeded secundum regulum et etiam consuetudines, until the Elevation, when the startling clamor of an approaching mob was heard. Many a rosy countenance assumed the hue of the lily.…
I noticed that most of the men who occupied places within the pews at once arose quietly, and respectfully, and placed themselves next the door. Nearer and nearer came the cries,—a member of the city Council, who, on the evening before, when the commander of military had given the order to fire upon the mob, had stepped before the cannon’s mouth and countermanded that order, and who had then been taken prisoner and incarcerated in the House of the God of peace, had been released from confinement, and was being carried in triumph by the mob to his dwelling near St. Mary’s Church. Nearer and nearer came the shouts, but the celebrant, if he felt any fear, showed none, as the God of battles lay before him. Nearer and nearer yet came the yells, and as they passed behind the church the solemn miserere nobis was over, and the soothing dona nobis pacem of Di Monti in D floated melodiously upon our anxious ears. Further and further receded the tumult and when the Ite missa est was chanted all was still.…
All this while the neighborhood of St. Philip’s Church was in a ferment of excitement. Queen Street and all the streets leading to it were filled with a disorderly mass of people, so that it was deemed advisable to make some concessions to the mob. A parley was beat and it was agreed that the Company of Hibernia Greens, occupying the Church, should march out with arms unloaded and reversed. All of them did not comply with the agreement. Unfortunately when they reached Second and Catharine Streets, provoked at the cruel taunts of the rabble, they turned and fired into the crowd, and believing that “he who fights and runs away may live to fight another day,” they plied their heels and scattered ingloriously in every direction. Some did not stop running until they reached Germantown and Manayunk, and Norristown, and other suburban localities more agreeable for their security than for odors; it has been said that two of them continued their weary pedestrianism until they reached New York City.
Some of the yelping mob pursued the swift warriors. One poor fellow named Gallagher was chased to Sixth and Small Streets, about half a mile from the scene of bold and daring deeds, when running panting into a house, the good house mother hid him between two feather beds. At first the hounds were baffled in the search, and having lost the scent they were about retiring as well bred curs, when the glitter of his regimentals caught the sight of one whose snarl soon recalled the others. A rope was soon around his neck and down the stairs was he dragged and along the streets for fully three quarters of a mile to Christian and Fourth Streets where a culvert was building, when the inhuman wretches amused themselves in heaving large cobblestones upon him, varied at intervals by six or eight heavy men jumping upon him; twice they hanged him to a lamp-post, till after two hours of torture indescribable he was rescued and carried to the Pennsylvania Hospital. On the next Sunday I saw him apparently unscarred and unscathed. It has been remarked that in both these riots it was impossible to kill an Irishman.…
The firing of the brave “lads in Green” was the signal for the attack upon the Church. In ten minutes the interior was gutted. Lewis C. Levin, whose wife, daughter, and step-daughter have since been received into the Church by one of our fathers, mounting the sacred table in front of the tabernacle, delivered a harangue, which for blasphemy and ribaldry would have befitted the days of the French Revolution.
General Cadwalader, who commanded the military, had established his headquarters at the old Girard Bank in Third Street opposite Dock. Finding it necessary to be there, he with two of his officers, in citizen dress and unarmed, entered a close carriage at the Church, and had succeeded in passing through the mob, when they were recognized by an old woman, the wife of a Catholic who had not sense enough to hold his silence. At once the cry and hue was raised of “Old Cadwalader! Bloody Cadwalader! Irish Cadwalader!” and four or five hundred started in pursuit. The driver drove for life. When turning Second Street into Pine, a stalwart American citizen of Scotch birth caught the near horse by the bit, and the carriage was brought to a halt. My eldest brother, whose dormant Catholicity had been roused by the persecution, and whom my good mother imagined she had safely locked up in the second story back room, but who had climbed the pipe and was in the midst of the excitement, taking in the situation with a glance of the eye, although a slender, weak young man, seized the gentleman from Glasgow by the throat and dashed him to the ground, while the noble brutes dashed wildly on. Henry, Henry, why were you so reckless? As it was generally believed that my brother was anti-Catholic, acquaintances surrounded him and his bad reputation saved him from the fury of the mob, who would willingly have made him a victim to their baffled rage.
The majority of the mob pursued the fleeing commander-in-chief until they reached Third and Spruce Streets. Third Street between Spruce and Walnut was at that time paved with wooden blocks. The horses on reaching this smooth pavement made such speed that the mob, having a salutary fear of the loaded cannons that guarded the entrance to the bank, gave over the pursuit.
They halted and consulted as to their further proceedings. A part proposed to attack the Jesuit Church in Willing’s Alley, but it was too near headquarters; some suggested St. Mary’s, but the majority wished to return to the field of their preceding efforts; and the majority, as in all well regulated mobs, carried the day.…
In the meanwhile the rioters were not idle. They had gone to all the stores for squares, and made requisitions, collecting all the powder, shot, nails, chains, in fact everything that could be used in loading the cannon they had obtained. Then they waited for the night.
It was a night of more than ordinary darkness. The moon was ashamed to look upon such doings and the stars kept her company. At the usual hour the gas was lighted, but was soon extinguished by the rioters in their neighborhood. At this time the military were in the Church and guards were posted on all sides to meet the mob if it should attempt to regain possession. Poor soldiers! they were in a most trying position. On the roofs of all the surrounding buildings were men, and women, and boys, with muskets, and rifles, and pistols, and stones, and hot water to fire and pour down upon them. They stood out boldly in the light. Whilst the rabble at Queen and Front Streets could take easy aim, themselves being in the dark, the only thing the soldiers had to direct their aim was the flash of the cannon, which the rioters would load in Front Street, then suddenly wheel round into Queen Street, take deliberate aim, fire, and the man who applied the match was back in Front Street almost before the soldiers had seen the flash.…
In the small wee hours of July 7th, the weary mob, seeing that victory was not theirs, gradually dispersed, and by 4 o’clock, the soldiers were sleeping upon the pavements of Queen, Second and Third Streets, or talking together and partaking of refreshments furnished by the neighbors.…
For weeks a heavy gloom hung over Philadelphia. The city was still under martial law, and the streets leading to the Catholic churches being guarded by soldiers, not a little inconvenience was caused to pedestrians, and as then we had few omnibuses and no street cars, most people had to pedestrianize.