The next day, certain people in the Abbey, who said that they were tarrying there a little while for some friends, who had just brought up a petition, but who were charged with coming to commit depredations in the sacred edifice, were attacked by the retainers of Archbishop Williams--who continued Dean of Westminster--and a sort of siege and assault followed. Amidst the riot and uproar several persons were hurt, and a stone thrown from the battlements[246] fatally injured Sir Richard Wiseman, who appeared conspicuous amongst the anti-episcopal citizens. [Sidenote: 1641, December.] [Sidenote: _Westminster Riots._] On Wednesday, the 29th, between three and four o'clock in the afternoon, when "the scum of the people[247]" had floated down to Westminster, there occurred a disturbance which, in a confused way, is apparent in the records of the period, but which becomes more luminous when examined in the light of the depositions of witnesses, still preserved amongst the State papers.[248] The tumult seems to have commenced by Whitehall Gate. Some military gentlemen were walking "within the rails," in the direction of Charing Cross. The difficulty is to make out who commenced the quarrel. One deponent says, the apprentices called the "red coats a knot of Papists," meaning, of course, the Royalist officers. Another declared, the gentlemen within the rails cried, "If they were the soldiers they would charge the mob with pikes and shoot them." Thereupon--so it was affirmed--the people replied, "You had best do it, red coats," and threw at them clots of dry dust. Then the cavalier swordsmen leaped over the rails, and, sword in hand, dashed into the midst of the mob. Other gentlemen came out of the Court gate and joined their friends; upon which the parties fell to, pell-mell. One witness says, that he saw but one sword drawn on the citizens' side, but he saw many of the citizens wounded by the gentlemen. Another affirms, that one of the gentlemen received a wound in the forehead. It is manifest that the disturbance was made the very most of by each party, so as to reflect discredit upon the opposite side: for in a letter written the next morning, the writer, after recording how apprentices were wounded, and how they lost their hats and cloaks, gravely states, "It is feared they will be at Whitehall this day to the number of _ten thousand_." The City was in an uproar on account of the outrage on the apprentices, and the Court gentry were full of indignation at the abuse which the apprentices had heaped on the Bishops. The High Church Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, who rode about all night to preserve peace, had the City gates shut, the watch set, and the trained-bands called out. By those of a different class in politics this was thought quite unnecessary; as they implicitly believed that the citizens would commit no act of violence if the courtiers would but keep their swords in their scabbards. The