As soon as it was dark, squibs and crackers were flying in every direction, while those who ventured forth were in some danger of having their clothes set on fire by the scattered sparks. A party from the palace went forth about eight o'clock to see the illumination of the bonfire, gaining easy access to the offices of the Bishop's secretary, which were situated between the two gateways, one called Penniless Porch, the other the Palace Eye, both at the top of the market square. Those who had turned away with disgust from the bull-fight, yet felt it almost their duty to be present at the great Protestant demonstration of fire and burning. So that the windows of the office were filled by the palace party, amongst whom were members of the Bishop's family.
It was indeed a sight never to be forgotten when the huge bonfire was lighted, and the flames leaped up to the sky. The quaint old houses in the market square were illuminated with a ruddy glow, and the cathedral towers caught the fitful radiance, and stood up against the murky November sky with a flush of crimson on their hoary heads. The shouting and the tumult reached its height when Guy Fawkes' great effigy fell into the burning mass, and cries of "No Popery!" "Down with the Catholics!" were taken up, by every little screaming urchin, who, with burned fingers and scorched cheeks, thought he was doing good service to some cause, though, if he and half that seething crowd had been questioned as to why they came together, the "more part," as in times of old, could not have given an answer.
A great wrong once done, which fastens on the mind of a nation, and is handed down as a subject of everlasting indignation from generation to generation, must be expected to demand outward demonstration. Thus the fires of Smithfield, and the secret plot of the conspirators beneath the hall at Westminster, have never been forgotten.
The people still hunger for some expression of their wrath, and do not wait to ask if that expression takes a wholesome form.
Although like demonstrations have been very much moderated of late years, and nearly stopped altogether by the authorities in Wells, still there is yet a city of the West whose motto is "Ever faithful," where the same scene is acted even on a larger scale; and woe to the unhappy man who may have incurred the displeasure of the good people of Exeter during the current year. His effigy is still paraded through the streets, followed by mummers in gay attire, and, amidst general execrations, his image tumbles down into the fiery furnace, as a meet companion for that, of the never-to-be-forgotten Guy Fawkes.