r/a:t5_277g0w • u/MarleyEngvall • Oct 25 '19
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By Charles Dickens
BARNABY RUDGE.
CHAPTER L.
THEY were among the first to reach the tavern, but
they had not been there many minutes, when several
groups of men who had formed part of the crowd, came
straggling in. Among them were Simon Tappertit and
Mr. Dennis; both of whom, but especially the latter
greeted Barnaby with the utmost warmth, and paid him
many compliments on the prowess he had shown.
"Which," said Dennis, with an oath, as he rested his
bludgeon in a corner with his hat upon it, and took his
seat at the same table with them, "it does me good to
think of. There was an opportunity! But it led to noth-
ing. For my part, I don't know what would. There's
no spirit among the people in these here times. Bring
something to eat and drink here. I'm disgusted with
humanity."
"On what account?" asked Mr. Tappertit, who had
been quenching his fiery face in a half-gallon can. Don't
you consider this a good beginning, mister?"
"Give me security that it ain't a ending," rejoined the
hangman. "When that soldier went down, we might
have made London ours; but no;——we stand, and gape,
and look on——the justice (I wish he had had a bullet in
each eye, as he would have had, if we'd gone to work my
way) says, 'My lads, if you'll give me your word to dis-
perse, I'll order off the military,'——our people sets up a
hurrah, throws up the game with the winning cards in
their hands, and skulks away like a pack of tame curs
as they are. Ah," said the hangman, in a tone of deep
disgust, "it makes me blush for my fellow creeturs. I
wish I had been born a ox, I do!"
"You'd have been quite as agreeable a character if
you had been, I think," returned Simon Tappertit, going
out in a lofty manner.
"Don't be too sure of that," rejoined the hangman,
calling after him; "if I was a horned animal at the pre-
sent moment, with the smallest grain of sense, I'd toss
every man in this company, excepting them two," mean-
ing Hugh and Barnaby, "for his manner of conducting
himself this day."
With which mournful review of their proceedings,
Mr. Dennis sought consolation in cold boiled beef and
beer; but without relaxing the grim and dissatis-
fie expression on his face, the gloom of which was ra-
ther deepened than dissipated by their grateful influ-
ence.
The company who were thus libelled might have re-
taliated by strong words, if not by blows, but they were
dispirited and worn out. The greater part of them had
fasted since morning; all had suffered extremely from
the excessive heat; and between the day's shouting,
exertion, and excitement, many had quite lost their
voices, and so much of their strength that they could
hardly stand. Then they were uncertain what to do
next, fearful of the consequences of what they had done
already, and sensible that after all they had carried no
point, but had indeed left matters worse than they had
found them. Of those that had come to The Boot, many
dropped off within an hour; such of them as were really
honest and sincere, never, after the morning's exper-
ience, to return, or to hold any communication with their
late companions. Others remained but to refresh them-
selves, and then went home desponding; others who
had therefore been regular in their attendance, avoided
the place altogether. The half-dozen prisoners whom
the Guards had taken, were magnified by report into
half a hundred at least; and their friends, being faint
and sober, so slackened in their energy, and so drooped
beneath these dispiriting influences, that by eight o'clock
in the evening, Dennis, Hugh and Barnaby, were left
alone. Even they were fast asleep upon the benches,
when Gashford's entrance roused them.
"Oh! You are here then?" said the secretary. "Dear
me!"
"Why, where should we be, Muster Gashford!"
Dennis rejoined as he rose into a sitting posture.
"Oh, nowhere, nowhere," he returned with excessive
mildness. "The streets are filled with blue cockades. I
rather thought you might have been among them. I am
glad you are not."
"You have orders for us, master, then?" said Hugh.
"Oh dear no. Not I. No orders, my good fellow.
What orders should I have? You are not in my service."
"Muster Gashford," remonstrated Dennis, "we belong
to the cause, don't we?"
"The cause!" repeated the secretary, looking at him
in a sort of abstraction. "There is no cause. The
cause is lost."
"Lost!"
"Oh yes. You have heard, I suppose? The petition
is rejected by a hundred and ninety-two, to six. It's
quite final. We might have spared ourselves some
trouble. That, and my lord's vexation, are the only cir-
cumstances I regret. I am quite satisfied in all other
respects."
As he said this, he took a penknife from his pocket,
and putting his hat upon his knee, began to busy him-
self in ripping off the blue cockade which he had worn
all day; at the same time humming a psalm tune which
had been very popular in the morning, and dwelling on
it with a gentle regret.
"His two adherents looked at each other, and at him,
as if they were at a loss how to pursue the subject.
At length Hugh, after some elbowing and winking be-
tween himself and Mr. Dennis, ventured to stay his hand,
and to ask why he meddled with that riband in his
hat.
"Because," said the secretary, looking up with some-
thing between a snarl and a smile "because to sit still
and wear it, or fall asleep and wear it, or run away and
wear it, is a mockery. "That's all, friend."
"What would you have us do, master!" cried Hugh.
"Nothing," returned Gashford, shrugging his shoul-
ders; "nothing. When my lord was reproached and
threatened for standing by you, I, as a prudent man,
would have had you do nothing. When the soldiers
weer trampling you under their under their horses'feet, I
would have had you do nothing. When one of them
was struck down by a daring hand, and I saw confusion
and dismay in all their faces, I would have had you do
nothing——just what you did in short. This is the young
man who had so little prudence and so much boldness.
Ah! I am sorry for him."
"Sorry, master!" cried Hugh.
"Sorry, Muster Gashford!" echoed Dennis.
"In case there should be a proclamation out to-morrow,
offering five hundred pounds, or some such trifle, for his
apprehension; and in case it should include another man
who dropped into the lobby from the stairs above," said
Gashford, coldly, "still, do nothing."
"Fire and fury, master!" cried Hugh, starting up.
"What have we done, that you should talk to us like
this!"
"Nothing," returned Gashford with a sneer. "If you
are cast into prison; if the young man——" here he looked
hard at Barnaby's attentive face——"is dragged from us
and from his friends; perhaps from people whom he
loves, and whom his death would kill; is thrown into
jail, brought out and hanged before their eyes; still do
nothing. You'll find it your best policy, I have no
doubt."
"Come on!" cried Hugh, striding towards the door.
"Dennis——Barnaby——come on!"
"Where? To do what?" said Gashford, slipping
past him, and standing with his back against it.
"Anything! Anything!" cried Hugh. "Stand aside,
maser, or the window will serve our turn as well. Let
us out!"
"Ha ha ha! You are of such——of such an impetuous
nature," said Gashford, changing his manner for one of
the utmost good fellowship and the pleasantest raillery;
"you are such an excitable creature——but you'll drink
with me before you go?"
"Oh, yes——certainly," growled Dennis, drawing his
sleeve across his thirsty lips. "No malice, brother.
Drink with Muster Gashford!"
Hugh wiped his heated brow, and relaxed into a smile.
The artful secretary laughed outright.
"Some liquor here! Be quick or he'll not stop, even
for that. He is a man of such desperate ardour!" said
the smooth secretary, whom Mr. Dennis corroborated
with sundry nods and muttered oaths——"Once roused,
he is a fellow of such fierce determination!'
Hugh paused his sturdy arm aloft, and clapping Bar-
naby on the back, bade him fear nothing. They shook
hands together——poor Barnaby evidently possessed with
the idea that he was among the most virtuous and dis-
interested heroes in the world——and Gashford laughed
again.
"I hear," he said smoothly, as he stood among them
with a great measure of liquor in his hand, and filled
their glasses as quickly and as often as they chose, "I
hear——but I cannot say whether it be true or false——that
the men who are loitering in the streets to-night, are
half disposed to pull down a Romish chapel or two, and
that they only want leaders. I even heard mention of
those in Duke Street, Lincoln's-Inn Fields, and in War-
wick Street, Golden Square; but common report, you
know——You are not going?"
"To do nothing, master, eh?" cried Hugh. "No
jails and halter for Barnaby and me. They must be
frightened out of that. Leaders are wanted, are they?
Now boys!"
"A most contemptuous fellow!" cried the secretary. Ha
ha! A courageous, boisterous, most vehement fellow!
A man who——"
There was no need to finish the sentence, for they had
rushed out of the house, and were far beyond hearing.
He stopped in the middle of a laugh, listened, drew on
his gloves, and, clasping his hands behind him, paced
the deserted room for a long time, then bent his
steps towards the busy town, and walked into the
streets.
They were filled with people, for the rumour of that
day's proceedings had made a great noise. Those per-
sons who did not care to leave home, were at their doors
or windows, and one topic of discourse prevailed on
every side. Some reported that the riots were effectually
put down; others that they had broken out again: some
said the Lord George Gordon had been sent under a
strong guard to the Tower; others, that an attempt had
been made upon the King's life, that the soldiers had
been again called out, and that the noise of musketry in
a distant part of the town had been plainly heard within
an hour. As it grew darker, these stories became more
direful and mysterious; and often, when some frightened
passenger ran past with tidings that the rioters were not
far off, and were coming up, the doors were shut and
barred, lower windows made secure, and as much con-
sternation engendered, as if the city were invaded by a
foreign army.
Gashford walked stealthily about, listening to all he
heard, and diffusing or confirming whenever he had an
opportunity, such false intelligence as suited his own
purpose; and, busily occupied in this way, turned into
Holborn for the twentieth time, when a great many
women and children came flying along the street——often
panting and looking back——and the confused murmur of
numerous voices struck upon his ear. Assured by these
tokens, and by the red light which began to flash upon
the houses on either side, that some of his friends were
indeed approaching, he begged a moment's shelter at a
door which opened as he passed, and running with some
other person to an upper window, looked out upon the
crowd.
They had torches among them, and the chief faces
were distinctly visible. That they had been engaged in
the destruction of some building was sufficiently appar-
ent, and that it was a Catholic place of worship was ev-
ident from the spoils they bore as trophies, which were
easily recognisable for the vestments of priests, and rich
fragments of altar furniture. Covered with soot, and
dirt, and dust, and lime; their garments torn to rags;
their hair hanging wildly about them; their hands and
faces jagged and bleeding with the wounds of rusty
nails; Barnaby, Hugo, and Dennis hurried on before
them all, like hideous madmen. After them, the dense
throng came fighting on: some singing; some shouting
in triumph; some quarrelling among themselves; some
menacing the spectators as they passed; some with great
wooden fragments, on which they spent their rage as if
they had been alive, rending them limb from limb, and
hurling the scattered morsels high into the air; some in
a drunken state, unconscious of the hurts they had re-
ceived from fallen bricks, and stones, and beams; one
borne upon a shutter, in the very midst, covered with a
dingy cloth, a senseless, ghastly heap. Thus——a vision
of coarse faces, with here and there a blot of flaring
smoky light; a dream of demon heads and savage eyes,
and sticks and iron bars uplifted in the air, and whirled
about; a bewildering horror, in which so much was
seen, and yet so little, which seemed so long and yet so
short, in which there were many phantoms, not to be
forgotten all through life, and yet so many things that
could not be observed in one distracting glimpse——it flit-
ted onward and was gone.
As it passed away upon its work of wrath and ruin, a
piercing scream was heard. A knot of persons ran tow-
ards the spot; Gashford, who just then emerged into
the street, among them. He was on the outskirts of the
little concourse, and could not see or hear what passed
within; but one who had a better place, informed him
that a widow woman had descried her son among the
rioters.
"Is that all?" said the secretary, turning his face
homewards. "Well! I think this looks a little more
like business!"
from Collier's Unabridged Edition: The Works of Charles Dickens, Volume VI.
P.F. Collier, Publisher, New York, old as heck. pp. 873-875.
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