plundering, some magistrates and constables
arrived, with about sixteen dragoons, who at
once set to work to extinguish the fires. On
seeing the constables exchanging blows, Colonel
Brereton cried out, if the striking was repeated,
he would ride the constables down. He released
some of the rioters met carrying off plunder,
and soon after a loud cheer from the crowd
announced his withdrawal of the troops. The
constables, threatened and discouraged, were
now dispersed, one was stabbed, and many were
severely wounded.

A third party of rioters, that had tossed up
as to whether they should first attack the
bishop's palace or the aldermen's houses in
Berkeley-square, now poured into the palace,
drove out the bishop's butler, the sub-sacrist,
and a few others who had been active in
the defence, and set fire to the house. The
lead on the roof soon melted, and poured down
in boiling streams. The glass of the great
cathedral window gleamed ruby in the flames.
The mob then lit a fire in the chapter-house,
but the stout old Saxon building would not
burn. The men, however, burnt the collegiate
seal, and a heap of valuable old books and
records. One ignorant wretch knelt on a large
Bible, tore out handfuls of leaves, and threw
them with curses into the fire. During these
disgraceful outrages, soldiers of the 3rd were
seen drinking among the mob; while the
chamberlain of the city was distributing firearms
to a few resolute men who had resolved
to defend the Council House to the last,
Captain Codrington arrived with the Doddington
troop of yeomanry, forty sturdy, well-fed
farmers' sons, ready for anything. After a short
conversation with unfortunate and misguided
Colonel Brereton in College-street, Captain
Codrington wheeled round his troop, of course
by order, and at once left the city, which now,
indeed, seemed doomed.

As soon as the prisons were burned, the
rioters pressed back into Queen's-square, having
first cleared the cellar of the Mansion House
of its four hundred dozen of wine. There were six
dragoons on guard in the front of the house,
but they would not interfere with the attempts
to set the house on fire in the back. A man
went up to the soldiers and said, "Well, you
will not fire!" Then a strong-built, bow-legged
fellow mounted the gas-lamp and lit a candle.
Soon after smoke burst forth from the cellar.
The great seething crowd danced and shouted
for joy when the flames leaped out, and hundreds
rushed in to carry off the spoil. Six men
deliberately carried off a grand pianoforte, and sold
it in Back-street for a mere trifle to a gentleman
who had followed them, and who afterwards
restored the piano to the mayor
uninjured. Many of the ruffians were seen at the
windows destroying beds, mirrors, and chairs,
when the floors below and above them were
breaking into flames, and all escape was cut
off—stairs on fire, ceiling below and above
them burning into flame with terrible rapidity.
In about half an hour the front of the building
fell in with a tremendous crash, burying at
least twenty reformers in its fiery ruins.

About ten o'clock, Colonel Brereton arrived
with a detachment of the 3rd Dragoons; but
Colonel Brereton, hurried to his destruction,
only kept them wrapped in their cloaks from
the drizzling rain, walking their horses quietly
along the square, as spectators, for a quarter
of an hour. They were then marched off, and
no further effort was made by the colonel
to check the cruel and ruthless destruction.
Colonel Brereton went quietly home to bed,
perfectly satisfied with himself and the somewhat
violent reformers. The great pictures at
the Mansion House were cut out of their
frames, rolled up and rescued, and some money
and valuables were secreted in the trunks of
some female servants, and so passed safely
through the crowd.

The great protest had, indeed, begun. The
burning was carried on by gangs allotted to the
work. A man from Bath led one party, and
gave the signals with a noisy watchman's rattle;
the leader of another carried a large bell. The
first division that entered broke no glass or furniture,
but only ransacked the houses for money,
plate, and valuables. The next division
removed the furniture roughly into the centre of
the square. A third band, generally Irish,
carried off, or threw out, the furniture, to remove
into their own hiding-places in the low parts of
the city. The fourth gang were the firemen, who
were accompanied by boys with torches. They
smeared an ignitible paste on the walls, nailed
linen steeped in oil on the shutters and woodwork,
and lit the curtains; others threw balls of
composition upon the floors, or poured trains of
turpentine from door to door. About every fifth
house of the forty destroyed, the rattle was again
sprung, and a fresh gang came to the front,
thirsty for the destruction of the property of the
"Blues." In several instances the rioters, frenzied
with success, broke through the party walls,
and fired the next house before the plunderers in
the upper rooms of the last could escape. In one
house some of the incendiaries—lads (probably
sailor-boys)—finding the floors and staircases a
gulf of fire below them, coolly clambered along
a narrow outer coping not more than twelve
inches wide, entered an adjoining house, and set
fire to it, while other scoundrels were revelling
below. In a centre house between the Mansion
House and the Council House some gentlemen
prepared for a vigorous defence; but the rioters
entered the attics from the next roof, and the
unfortunate Blues had to retreat from the
double danger—the angry mob and the raging
and still more merciless flames. The panic was
now universal; every Tory sought escape at all
hazards; pale frightened men, crying women,
naked children, homeless, beggared, almost
paralysed with fear, poured out of the houses
and sought any shelter they could find. None
of these were injured; a short notice was always
given at each house by the rioters, and the
plunderers and firemen then went to work.

At a quarter before twelve a fellow entered