An extract from 'RIOT!' The Bristol Bridge Massacre of 1793 - Michael Manson

The precise details of what happened next, and who gave the command to fire is unclear; after the event no one was publicly willing to admit responsibility. Even to those standing nearby the order to fire was barely audible above the sound of the drums. With no further warning the soldiers fired southwards straight along St. Thomas Street.

They were doing the unthinkable. No Riot Act had been read since the morning, no other methods of crowd control had been tried. Admittedly, although there were numerous books on drill and the theory of war, not a word had, at that time, been written about crowd control and riots. But even so the next logical step should have been a bayonet charge. A volley into the crowd, and a crowd such as this, was a last resort.

Although the overall size of the crowd was large, amounting to several thousands, the number of active participants was small, perhaps no more than fifty in all at any one time. The role of the vast majority of the crowd was passive - it was only a few trouble makers, all young and male that went on the rampage. And yet, despite the current lack of work, despite the widespread vogue for "liberty", despite what the Corporation would imply later, these were not revolutionaries on the rampage. In comparison with some of the mob events that had recently occurred in France, the behaviour of the Bristol Bridge crowd looked muted. There were no obvious ringleaders and damage to property was strictly confined to possessions of the Bridge Trustees. At no time did the energy of the crowd redirect itself to other targets. In short, the mob was neither inspired by Paine's simple rhetoric, nor was it acting out Burke's nightmarish predictions.

Muskets cracked, shots sliced through the air. People tried to take cover; they desperately sought shelter in doorways or behind projecting window-bays - anywhere that offered some protection. But the crowded streets made this difficult, several fellover and were trampled upon. Gunsmoke and the sweet scorched smell of gunpowder hung in the night air over the bridge.

Despite their volleys southwards, the soldiers continued to be attacked from the north in the direction of the High Street. Perhaps their assailants still believed that blanks were being shot. The back rank of soldiers was ordered to about turn and fire directly into the crowd. In almost every direction people were shot by the musketry. Shots travelled as far as the High Street junction with Wine Street (afterwards the owner of the shop with a curved frontage tucked into the south west corner of Christchurch -it is still there today - displayed a neat shot hole in one of his window panes). One soldier reloaded his musket and cold-bloodedly took a second shot at a man who had already fallen. On the south side of the bridge the soldiers broke rank. In Redcliffe Street a soldier, sword in hand, entered a house in hot pursuit of rioters. Outside other soldiers drew up in a half moon shape in front of the building. They only refrained from shooting into the house after desperate pleading from the owner.

Shortly after the firing the military left the bridge. The night was remarkably dark. In all, over 100 rounds had been fired. At 11 pm a heavy shower of rain washed away every trace of blood.

*******************

With the street lamps broken it was an impenetrably dark night. On his way home, Matthew Bennet tripped over a large object on the ground. It was the body of a young man, flat on his back, cold and quite dead. To his utter disbelief Bennet realised that he was starring at a corpse - the corpse of his own son James.

This long horrible moment was broken by Joseph Horler, the Mayor's secretary, striding up to the bereaved father. Horler, who appeared to be in an exceptionally agitated mood, demanded:
"Who is this fellow?"
Bennet was so distraught that he could hardly speak.
"It is my son," he cried.
"Damn ye," said Horler. "Take him away directly, or I assure you that worse will ensue."