pass through the line without a constable, but
Lord Cochrane (who went into the matter as
he went into Basque Roads), Mr. O'Connor,
and Mr. Jones Burdett dined with Sir Francis.
Indignant at the absurd display of soldiers, who
neither defended nor attacked his house, Sir
Francis wrote a requisition for protection to
the sheriffs of Middlesex. Mr. Wood also
applied to the Speaker for advice, but received
none. He then stationed a number of peace
officers at No. 80, and made the Life Guards
remove to some distance on both sides.

That night the people were more turbulent.
They shouted " Burdett for ever!" They
ordered hats off the heads of all stiff-necked
persons. They also called out to householders
to illuminate — a request that was tyrannical,
but certainly harmless. The moment the candles
were stuck up at the panes, the soldiers shouted
to the compliant politicians to put out the
lights: then with equal alacrity out went the
lights. The moment the soldiers had gone by,
the mob broke the windows of these trimmers;
and in the subsequent scuffle several persons
were wounded, but none mortally. The Speaker
had bungled, for there was no natural connexion
between Sir Francis resisting the jurisdiction of
the House and a street riot. It was the soldiers
who produced the riot; but for the threatening
of death, there would only have been a few hats
damaged and a few windows broken.

In the mean time, the cabinet and privy
council had met in great puzzle and perturbation.
It was the ministers now who seemed to
take the initiative, not the House, that had
pretended to assert its privileges. It was a Tory
ministry eager to catch a Liberal leader on the
hip, but uncertain where to strike the blow.
The law officers of the crown were consulted.
Sir Samuel Romilly, one of the best and largest
minded among them, was clear that this was
a case that should have been sent to the
ordinary tribunals, and that as the matter of Gale
Jones had been already concluded, the letter
of Burdett could not be said to be censurable as
having impeded the proceedings of parliament.
On the Sunday, the Speaker (Abbott, " the little
man with the big wig," as audacious Jack Fuller
once called him) was so irresolute as to what
power he possessed for enforcing his warrant,
that he sent to the attorney-general, and hence-
forward acted entirely on his opinion. The
frightened ministry, dreading they scarcely knew
what, sent orders from the War Office to move
up every regiment in the country to within one
hundred miles of London.

About one o'clock on Sunday the two sheriffs,
Mr. Wood and Mr. Atkins, waited on Sir
Francis. Mr. Wood was against the warrant;
Mr. Atkins feebly wavered; " the subject," he
said, timidly, " was too lofty for his comprehension;"
so he gave up all hopes of understanding
it. Sir Francis wished to give his only
bed to Mr. Wood, if he would remain in the
house and keep the peace; but Mr. Wood
decided no arrest would be attempted before Monday
morning; and he would then attend with his
peace-officers. All Sunday the mob continued
before No. 80, between the lines of soldiers,
shouting and compelling all passengers, whether
on foot, or horseback, or in carriages, to pull off
heir hats on penalty of being pelted with mud.
On Saturday and Sunday there called on Sir
Francis (besides the serjeant's messenger, who
knocked several times in vain) the Earl of
Thanet, Lord Folkestone, Lord Cochrane, Mr.
Whitbread, Mr. Coke of Norfolk, Mr. Wardle,
and Major Cartwright. Some of these friends of
Burdett were in favour of his now yielding, as
enough had been done to constitute a case for a
trial of the right ; but Sir Francis was of " the
old rock," and was inflexible.

On Sunday night the secretary of state had
tardily come to the conclusion that force must be
used, and promised the serjeant-at-arms assistance.
On Monday morning, at ten, the serjeant
arrived at No. 80 with a strong body of police, a
carriage, and an escort of cavalry and foot-soldiers.
Sir Francis had breakfasted in his drawing-
room on the first floor with Lady Burdett,
the Countess of Guildford, Lady Maria, Lady
Jane, Lady Georgina North, Mr. Coutts, his
son, his brother, and Mr. O'Connor. Breakfast
over, Sir Francis was employed in hearing
his son, a boy just come from Eton, read and
translate Magna Charta. Burdett's enemies
declared afterwards that this was a prearranged
tableau — a theatrical, rehearsed, historical
picture — but there is no proof Sir Francis
apprehended immediate arrest, or that there was
anything unusual in a country squire seeing how
his boy from school had got on in his Latin.

Just then Mr. O'Connor, looking up, observed
a face at the window. A man had mounted by
a ladder, had thrown up the sash, and broken
two panes in the act of entering. Mr. O'Connor
ran to him, but Sir Francis called out not
to hurt the man. One push of the ladder, and
the intruder would have fallen twenty feet
below, on the spikes of the area railings.
Burdett, his son, and brother, then pushing the
man back, shut all the windows. Looking out,
and seeing more troops round the house, Mr.
O'Connor ran down to see if all was safe below.
On the stairs he met twenty men with constables'
staves in their hands. They had descended into
the area, burst open a kitchen window, shutters,
frame and all, and entered through a small
servant's room. They asked if Sir Francis Burdett
was at home, and went up into the drawing-room
where the baronet and the ladies were. Mr.
Colman followed the rough force up, and said:

Sir Francis, you are my prisoner!

Burdett: By whose authority do you act,
Mr. Serjeant? By what power, sir, have you
broken into my house in violation of the laws of
the land?

On Mr. Colman's reading the warrant in
great trepidation, as if Sir Francis was about to
throw him to the people to be torn to pieces,
Burdett refused to voluntarily submit to an
unlawful order; Colman said:

"Then, sir, I must call in assistance and force
you to yield."