denunciations, and charged the mob with
cowardice and want of spirit in not doing
more. In the Guildhall the clamour was ceaseless
and threatening; when the court rose, the
people gave three cheers for the king, and ran
into the street to meet Sir Charles again on his
way to the Mansion House. The streets were
densely crowded; the people were sullen and
dangerous. On the quay at the bottom of Clare-
street an attempt was made to run a truck, on
which was placed a large box, under the mayor's
carriage, in order to upset it, but the scheme
failed. When the procession escorting Sir
Charles stopped at the Mansion House, a
shower of stones broke one of the carriage-lamps.

There were by this time two or three thousand
people assembled round the Mansion
House, at whose windows a few sticks and
stones were from time to time thrown. One
of these men being seized, there arose the cry,
"To the Back!" (the Welsh Back is one of the
quays where Welsh vessels unload, and where
piles of fagots are stacked;) in a short time
about six hundred men returned armed with
bludgeons, and fell on the constables, who,
however, defeated their assailants, and carried off
several bundles of sticks as trophies. One
constable was chased into the Float, from whence,
however, he was rescued by a boatman, and a
man in the crowd had his skull fractured, and
was carried off. The mob did not disperse, but
grew quieter about half-past two, when the tired
constables retired inside the Mansion House.
Many respectable persons were heard
sympathising with the crowd, and whenever the
constables struck a hard blow, there were
exclamations of—

"Shame—shame! A pack of Tory constables
and bludgeon-men."

About three o'clock a party of police, escorting
some rioters to Bridewell, were attacked in
Nelson-street, knocked down, and the prisoners
released. As evening advanced, the stones and
sticks beginning to fly faster at the Mansion
House windows, the mayor came forward, and
talked of reading the Riot Act and sending for
troops. He was pelted while he was speaking,
and a very large stone all but struck his head.
About dusk the mayor, attended by other
magistrates, came out and read the Riot Act
three times; he was received with volleys of
stones and brickbats, and a rail from the square
was also murderously thrown at him. The mob
was now uncontrollable; the constables were
driven in, and the front and side of the building
attacked with an increasing ferocity. The yells
were savage and unceasing.

"Give us the recorder!" they cried, " and
we'll murder him."

Pulling down the low walls of the front
courts in the square, the mob used the
bricks and coping-stones as missiles. The
window-frames, shutters, and the panels of
the doors were soon driven in. They raked the
hall and dining-room with their missiles till the
floors were thickly covered with stones. One
storming party attempted to force their way into
the cellar, but the constables sheltered
themselves behind mattresses and piles of furniture,
and drove them back. Another party broke up
the iron railing in front of the Mansion House,
and threw it into a rough barricade to impede
the soldiers; they also put out the gaslights,
and placed poles and planks across Little
King-street. It was at this time that the mob,
singing God save the King in chorus, got
possession of the lower part of the Mansion House,
driving the constables to the staircase, which
they pelted from the door and side-windows.
The cry was to burn the recorder alive, and
some men instantly threw straw into the lower
rooms, shouting for a light. Sir Charles, seeing
the danger to be very imminent, got on a flat
roof at the back, and, obtaining a ladder,
ascended to a place where he could drop into
the stable-yard. Exchanging dresses in the
hayloft with a friend, Sir Charles contrived to
pass through the crowd unobserved, and finding
the riots continued, he that same night took a
post-chaise for Newport.

About nightfall the helmets and swords of
dragoons gleamed and flashed through one of
the avenues leading to Queen-square, and a
squadron of the 14th dashed up; Colonel
Brereton received the mayor and magistrates'
order to clear the streets, and use force to put
down the now alarming mob. The people paused
from their attack, but showed no other signs of
alarm. The soldiers did not look mischievous,
and already a report had run through the
city that Colonel Brereton was friendly to
the demonstration, was himself an ardent
reformer, and was loud against any resort to
violent measures. In spite of showers of stones
and brickbats, the troops were ordered to only
"ride through" the rioters, and to "walk them
away." Unfortunately, omelettes can by no
means be made without breaking several eggs.
Sprinkles of rose-water will not put out such
flames as these rioters were ready to kindle.
The people were savagely bent on showing their
power, and they would let nothing stop them.
They did not wish to kill, but they had resolved
to burn and destroy, and scare for ever all
exuberant bishops, stiff old Tory recorders, and
anti-progressive, over-wealthy aldermen. Land
and money had been tyrannously and arrogantly
selfish; now the people were going to be in
their turn selfishly and tyrannously violent and
destructive.

Although two of the dragoons were severely
wounded, and an officer injured by a fall from
his horse, Colonel Brereton expressed his
opinion that the mob was " good humoured,"
and that he should still "walk them away." The
magistrates, alarmed at the colonel's quietude,
asked him if he had any secret instructions from
the government. He replied no; he was
merely ordered to obey the magistrates.

About eleven at night he gave Captain
Musgrave's troop orders to charge, but the men
were directed to use the flats of their swords as
much as possible, and not to proceed to extremities
except as a last resource. A little later,