The Riots at Birmingham in 179J. 

 tion, and a determined resolution for Priestley as the cause 

 defence; but, finding his auxiliaries rot- 

 ten, he gave up his huuse and its contents 

 to the flames. 



The house of Thomas Russell, Esq., 

 and that of Mr. IIa«kes at Moseley- 

 Wake Green, were the next attack- 

 ed. They ivere plundered and greatly 

 injured, but not burnt. To be a Dis- 

 senter was a crime not to be forgiven, 

 but a rich Dissenter merited the extreme 

 of vengeance. 



Moseley Hall, the property of John 

 Taylor, Esq. and inhabited by Lady 

 Carhampton, mother to tlie Duchess of 

 Cumberland, was not to be missed. Nei- 

 ther the years of tliis lady, being blind 

 with age, nor her alliance to the cniivn, 

 were able to protect it. She was ordered 

 by the mob to remove her furniture, and 

 told, if she wanted help, they would as- 

 sist her; but that the mansion must not 

 stand. She vvas therefore, like Lot, hast- 

 ened away before the flames arose, but 

 not by angels. 



As riches could not save a man, neither 

 poverty. The mob next fell upon a poor 

 but sensible Presbyterian parson, the 

 Rev. John Hobson, of Balsall Heath, 

 and burnt his all. 



From the house of Mr. Hobson, the 

 intoxicated crew proceeded to that of 

 William Piddick at King's Heath, in- 

 habited by an inolTensive blind man, 

 John Harwood, a Baptist; and this end- 

 ed their work on Saturday the 16th, in 

 which were destroyed eight houses, ex- 

 clusive of Mr. Coates's, wiiich was plun- 

 dored and damaged. 



With regard to inyself, I felt more re- 

 sentment than fear; and would niost wil. 

 lingly have made one, even of a small 

 number, to arm and face them. My 

 family, however, would not suifer me 

 to stay in Birmingham, and I was, on 

 Saturday morning the 16(h, obliged to 

 run away like a thief, and hide myself 

 from the world, I had injured no man, 

 and yet durst not face man. I had spent a 

 life in distributing justice to others, and 

 now wanted it myself. Hoivever fond 

 of home, and whatever were my com- 

 fort* there, I was obliged, with my fa- 

 mily, tu throw myself upon the world 

 without money in my pocket. 



VVe stopped at Sutton Coldfield, and, 

 AS we had nu abode, took apaitnients 

 for the summer. Here I fell into com- 

 pany with a clergyman, a lawyer, a 

 country 'squire, and two other persons, 

 who ail lamented the proceedings at 

 Birmingham, perhaps through fear, they 

 being m it!> vicinity, and blamed Dr. 



64 1 



I asked what he 

 had done i" ** He has written such let- 

 ters ! Besides, what shameful healths 

 were drunk at the hotel." As 1 was 

 not at the dinner, 1 could not speak of 

 the healths; but I replied, " If tlie Doc- 

 tor, or any one else, had broken the laws 

 of his country, those laws were open to 

 punish him, but the present mode of re- 

 venge was detested even by savages." 

 We left our argument, as arguments ara 

 usually left by disputants, where w« 

 found it. 



Things passed on till the evening, wheH 

 the mistress of the house was seized with 

 the fashionable appreliensioiis of the day, 

 and requested us to depart, le.it her 

 house should be burnt. We were obliged 

 to pack up, which was done in one mi- 

 nute, for we had only the clothes which 

 covered us, and roll on to Tamworth. 



I asked the people at the Castle Inu 

 whether they knew me ? Tliey answered 

 in the negative. I had now a most pain- 

 ful task to undeig). " Though I have 

 entered your house," said I, as a com- 

 mon guest, I am a desolate wanderer, 

 without money to pay, or property to 

 pledge." The man who had paid his 

 bills during sixty-eight years, must have 

 been sensibly touched to make this de- 

 claration. If he had feelings, it will 

 call them forth. Their countenance fell 

 on healing it. I farther told them I wa» 

 known to Mr. Robert Bage, a gentle- 

 man in the neighbourhood, whom I would 

 request to pay my bill. My credit rose 

 in proportion to tlie value of the name 

 mentioned. Myself, my wife, son, and 

 daughter, passed the night at the Castle 

 in I'amworth. 



We now enter upon Sunday the 17th. 

 I rose early, not from sleep, but from 

 bed. The li\?ely sky, and bright sun, 

 seeintd to rejoice the whole creation, 

 and dispel every gloom but mine. I 

 could see throu'^h the eye of every face, 

 that serenity oi Miind which 1 had lost. 



As the storm in Birmingham was too 

 violent to last, it se'.nicd prudent to be 

 near the place, that I might embrace 

 the fiijt opportunity of protecting the 

 wreck of a shattered fortune. VVe moved 

 to Cajlle Bromwich. 



Ranting, roaring, drinking, burning, 

 is a life of too much rapidity lor the hu- 

 man frame to support. Our black so- 

 vereigns had now held it i^early three days 

 and nights, ivlicii nature called lor rest; 

 and the bright morning displayed iha 

 fields, roads, and hedges, lined with 

 fiieiids and brother churcli.nitn, dead 

 drunk, There were, however, enough 

 awalM 



