What was to be done? Amidst consternation indescribable, some of the Peers resolved to hold a meeting in Guildhall, the walls of which had often echoed with popular cries of all sorts. At this meeting, held December the 10th, amidst the temporal Lords there appeared the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and the Bishops of Winchester, Asaph, Ely, Rochester, and Peterborough. The Archbishop of Canterbury presided, and a sub-committee of three or four drew up a Declaration, in which they promised to assist the Prince of Orange in obtaining a Parliament for the welfare of England, the security of the Church, and the freedom of Dissenters. This was signed by the two Archbishops, the Bishops of Winchester, St. Asaph, Ely, Rochester, and Peterborough, and by several Peers. A deputation of four, including the Bishop of Ely, was appointed to wait upon His Highness. Riots followed. “No Popery” became the general cry. Roman Catholic chapels were stripped of furniture, in some instances the buildings were demolished. Oranges--symbolic of the Deliverer--were stuck on the ends of spikes and staves, and waved in triumph. The Embassies of Roman Catholic countries were no longer safe, and the mansion of the Spanish Minister was sacked. One act of vengeance will surprise no one who has read the story of the previous reign: Jeffreys, disguised as a sailor, fell into the hands of the mob, and narrowly escaped with life. Speke, not satisfied with the fictitious Declaration, invented terrific stories about massacres, which he said were already begun by the Irish. All kinds of atrocities were to be perpetrated by the disbanded army. De Foe repeated that, “the Irish dragoons which had fled from Reading, rallied at Twyford, and having lost not many of their number--for there were not above twelve men killed--marched on for Maidenhead, swearing and cursing, after a most soldierly manner, that they would burn all the towns wherever they came, and cut the throats of the people.” He adds, that as he himself rode to Maidenhead, he learnt at Slough that Maidenhead had been burnt, also Uxbridge and Reading. When he came to Reading, he was assured Maidenhead and Oakingham were in flames.[71] Imagination invented all kinds of horrors. In consequence of Speke’s letters came the _Irish night_, as it is called, when the citizens of London, in the utmost terror at the thought of insurgents entering their gates and murdering them in their beds, sat up till morning,--drums beating to arms, women screaming in agony, lights blazing at windows, streets lined with soldiers, and the doors of houses barricaded against the fancied foe. The panic could not be confined to the Metropolis. It spread to the North; it reached Leeds. Stories were told of Papists at Nottingham burning and slaying all before them; whereupon, the people of Leeds mended their fire-arms and fixed scythes on poles, kept watch and ward, and sent for the military,