“What does the captain say?” he exclaimed.
“To Sir George Saville’s, to Sir George Saville’s!” cried some one.
“Hurrah for Sir George Saville’s in Leicester Fields! He was the very man who brought the Romish Bill into Parliament. Down with his house, down with it!” shouted another fellow. “Lead on, captain—lead on!”
I at once saw that this was a trick that the real leader of the mob might be screened. I was determined to escape or I might be ruined. I told Tom to keep his eye on me, and to follow my movements. The mob began to move on, destroying one or two houses on their way. We at last passed the entrance to a narrow lane. Leaping aside, I darted down it. Tom followed. None of the mob missed me. I had got some way along the lane when a big, ill-favoured-looking fellow rushed out of a house with a thick stick in his hand, evidently with the intention of joining the rioters. Seeing a gentleman, and probably thinking I was a Romanist escaping from the mob, he immediately turned on me and aimed a blow at my head. I was just turning a corner, and he did not see Tom Rockets, but Tom saw him, and with a stroke of his fist felled him to the ground. Some other persons in the neighbouring houses saw the transaction, and the fellow quickly recovering there was a hue and cry made after us, the people rushing from their doors just as dogs are seen to run out from their kennels, yelping and barking when a stranger cur passes through the village.
As we were unarmed we could do nothing to defend ourselves, and had to trust to our heels for safety. Our pursuers were very likely, I knew, to tear us in pieces without asking any questions, and before we had time to explain who we were. I never ran faster in my life. How we were to escape them I could not tell. On we went: I sang out to Tom to stick by me, for if I should lose him I was afraid he might never find his way home again. We were distancing our pursuers. I made as many turns as I could, so as to cause them to lose the scent; but there were knowing fellows among them, and I conclude that they found as great an interest in the chase as a foxhunter does when following the hounds. At last I saw before me a large mob. There is safety in numbers, I thought to myself, so I called to Tom to dash in among them.
“Hurrah! hurrah! have you caught the fellow?” I sang out.
“No, he’s slipped out of his kennel, but we’ll take care that he does not burrow in it again,” replied some of the people.
I guessed that they referred to the unfortunate inmate of the mansion into which numbers of them were forcing their way, while pictures, books, and pieces of furniture were being thrown out of the windows. I pretended to be very eager to get into the house, but making my way round on the opposite side, followed by Tom, we got free; and when I looked back I saw that no one was following us. We now walked along as composedly as we could, but it was not without difficulty that we found our way into Bloomsbury Square. As we got there we saw a mob following at our heels, and we naturally thought they were after us. We had to run for it to reach my relative’s house. On came the mob. One of the finest houses in the square belonged to my Lord Mansfield. They rushed towards it, and began thundering at the door. They soon broke it open, and in they poured. In an instant the place became the scene of the most dreadful havoc and destruction. Again did I see pictures, clothes, books, furniture of the richest sorts, ruthlessly destroyed. I could scarcely have supposed that the work could have been done so rapidly. Then the most daring of the ruffians broke into the wine-cellar, and we saw them coming out with bottles and jugs and glasses, and distributing the rich liquor to the rabble outside.
What had become of my lord and his lady all this time we could not tell; we had great fears that they had fallen victims to the blind fury of the ignorant populace. I wanted to go out, but my relative would not let me. What the drunken mob might next have done I do not know, when a fresh party were seen entering the square; but they were a body of the royal guards with a magistrate at their head. He boldly approached the mob, and, halting the soldiers at no great distance from them, began to read the Riot Act. He finished it without faltering, the mob continuing as before their work of destruction. “Men,” he shouted, “I have warned you. I am going to give the order to the troops to fire if you do not desist. Once again I warn you—your blood be on your own heads—Fire!”
No sooner was the fatal command given than the soldiers levelled their muskets and let fly in among the rabble. Several fell; there were shrieks and cries and curses; but the people were too eager in their thirst for plunder to be driven off from the work they had in hand. Again the order was given to fire; but the humane magistrate ordered the troops to fire over the heads of the people. Some on this began to move off, but others continued their task of plunder and destruction. No one thought of attacking the soldiery. It showed the class of people composing the rioters—the very scum of the populace. This last fire of course did not produce any effect, and the mob began to proceed to greater extremities, and set fire both to the out-houses and stables, as also to the mansion itself, when they had possessed themselves of everything they thought of value. Only after repeated volleys from the soldiery were they driven off, and not till they had completed the work of destruction they had commenced. This did not take them long, and at last, several of their number having fallen, a panic seized them, and away they went helter-skelter in every direction out of the square. I could not resist the temptation of sallying out to see what they would next do, in spite of the warnings of my relative, who advised me to keep in the house. I laughed at the idea of there being any danger, and said that Tom and I would very soon be back again.